Thursday, December 24, 2009

Shoe Shine King v. My Coworker's Vagina

The past couple months since last post have been momentous and numbing. As tomorrow is Christmas it would only fair for me to share the two finest moments of my November and December.

Sometime in November I was walking back from an appointment with a client that most likely could care less what we sell. As I walked the streets of Chicago I learned one key things. I have the face of gullible compassion that street peddlers thrive to see. Is it so evident that my mother raised me with manners and that I like a good story? Man, I can't help it if I know the pitch is better than the actual copy of "Streetwise."

Enter the man who will never be forgotten. "The shoe shine king" of Chicago entered my life throwing all sorts of compliments. "Wow! What a suit! You must be a ladies man with that suit. You know what a ladies man needs to go with that suit? A shoe shine. The first thing a lady looks at are a man's shoes. ( I still challenge that claim) As I pause to chat he is already taking his office out of his Eastpack backpack and squirts a polish that looks like some fancy bird just deuced on my shoes. I see the polish, a cloth, and a brush and realize at this moment I have been assaulted with the tricks of the street.

Please envision a 6'5" guy putting his foot on the leg of a man kneeling to polish his shoes while everyone else in Chicago walks buy. Then comes the close. He mentions so quickly that this shine will last three weeks and for that $8 per shoe! Ah son, I never said I wanted a shoe shine. Since the shine looks very nice you may have the $4 I have in my wallet. Sounds like a better deal than the $0 I owe you. He took the $4. My shoes still look great.


Last week before my coworker went on vacation she mentioned she had some errands to run before the cruise. I remember when I was a teenage boy and jonesed on the idea of hearing what women say to each other. I no longer want to hear it since I work in the locker room of ladies with no shame. They have discussed popping each other's zits, their cycles (in detail), women's condoms, and perhaps the point of this; their lady land.

The eve of the trip came and well we were all given the count down for that and her waxing trip. Again, this is a collection of areas I don't ever want to hear or think about. I can say there is some censorship about that request but the worse point was the detail of the waxing person being too hands on for the waxing (again sure wished I'd want to hear that). She then mentioned that there was an ointment applied to more or less be afterwax. (It gets more gross- caution)

My coworkers were being nice at times with the censorship of their; areas, That being said I now have to make a request to never be able to smell their business. I advised her that indeed from ten feet away I could still smell her new aroma which mixed lavender with aging V. Somehow with just the air vents in the building standing down wind made me dry heave. Just imagine the client she visited right after this was done.

I can only hope this is a freak group of way to open V-talk. Someday they'll make some guy sooo lucky and be all his.

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