Standard activity for a Friday night would be having a romantic date with the love one. And coz I'm anything but standard, I spent last Friday doing everything but romantic. Woke up at 9, felt depressed over unfinished deadline and decided to take 2 hours more to sleep. So, practically woke up at 11.
Went to pick up some letters, met Mr.Franklin who looked at me with his eyes saying 'I can see your nipples behind that thin tank-top you fuckin atheist feminist!' And I smiled at him with my eyes saying back 'You can see as much as you want, Mr.Franklin. It's a charity. I know Mrs.Franklin hasn't opened her legs for you for the past 15 years.'
Continued with my out of standard activities: Ignored some phone calls, slept, played with my pets, abandoned the dishes, wrote six or seven letters on my laptop, erased them, danced randomly, watched the ceiling, sang Christina Aguilera's Reflection and made it into my own ringtone, watched some Stephen Kings, ate cereal made of frozen chips and vodka, theeen... slept again.
The only useful thing I did was when David picked me up to accompany him interviewing a graffiti artist named Tim who owns a tattoo shop. We drove downtown and passed a random lingerie store that had this sexiest pretiest est est lingerie at the shop window. Then David made an annoying comment, "Why would you wanna buy hot lingerie anyway? It's not like anybody would see it anytime soon." Oh... if only I had a gun in my hand...
Arrived at the shop and this Tim dude came out: dirty blonde, wearing green Army tee and showing his Joker smile. Best decision I guess, coming along. Coz while David is busy interviewing and questioning about Krylon and Plutonium... I got to do eye-flirting with Tim everytime he paused answering once in a while. And maaan... for a lonely girl who spends Friday night doing basically nothing, eye-flirt is just the same as sex. It was so hot I felt like putting a condom on his eyes!
Then... like the usual me who often embarass myself when it comes to 'make a move', as soon as the interview finished, I asked for Tim's number in case I need any part of my body to be tattooed (?) or my wall to be... graffitied (??). He refused to give it, said that if I ever needed him, I should just come to the shop and see him.
It was a sign, right?? A signal of attraction and direct invitation? I wasn't being a wishful thinker or anything, right? And since Abram did no effort to contact me whatsoever, I guess I'm still on the market. Now... all I have to think of is how to stop my mouth from producing idiotic words next time I go to the tattoo shop again, and what do I have to sell to get that est-lingerie. I'm hoping, wishing, praying... that I will spend next Friday looking at someone's eyes other than Mr.Franklin.