Friday, March 14, 2008


Tonight, I went to a St. Patrick's Day party at the house of the man with flat feet.

I went because of the gossipy rumors that surround this man and his bobble head girlfriend whom most of us dislike for her snideness at the rest of us for having the privilege of living with him and supporting him at the same time. She is in her very late 30's, close to 40 and he is just 29.

Anyway, the point is, much of these get togethers with these people are the same-drink, drink, drink.

I sat there and was served four differing green drinks, which after the sip of the first, the alchohol could have pickled me just fine if I was dead.

I was dressed very casually in a black sweat suit adorned with fake diamonds along my hips and down the front of the top along both zipper runs with a dangling silver star- and also having silver stars dangling from the zippers on ass pockets. It was, of course, in conservative silver adorned taste.

I haphazardly put on some foundation with an almost fleshy colored pink cream eyeshadow with a palish pink Dior lipstick.

My hair is slightly curled, but it was not holding the tiny curls I made with the tiny slender curling iron, despite being shellacked with hairspray.

The length of my hair is now almost past my ass, and because of the winter, it is either china girl straight to a certain extent or thick with long waves running throughout. Tonight it was thick.

I wore it much like Morticia Adams, parted in the middle, and it naturally made the waves around my forehead and face before it cascades down past my bosom to my hips.

Upon arrival at the house, drink was in full swing. I said my greetings and decided to grab a plate of corned beef that was sliced veil thick, a wedge of cabbage and split boiled red potatoes. I dolloped spicy mustard on the side. I was drinking a diet coke with ice that made the soda taste not so good.

As I was picking up a plastic white dinner plate, this man, who had on those sleek geeky glasses being worn by the NYC types, who has a head of completely white hair with some sort of weird ass spikes on top, decides he will speak with me.

How I despise a man who decides to flirt with you while you are piling food on your plate.

The un-artful requests for an introduction makes me want to gag. He looked gay to me, but his flirting was making it an odd combination. He was not very tall and slender. Not my type.

I respond to his request for an introduction in the blandest manner I can muster because my host is near, and he jumps into introducing us by getting up to make the introduction that was already accomplished.

I managed to get away because Trudy, the mother of my host, approached and we were happy to see each other, like two school girls.

Throughout the night, this wimpy guy, believing himself dashing and debonair, would saunter over to me to "toast" my drink, or say hello. I was managing quite nicely to avoid him.

When Trudy and her husband were leaving, I decided to depart as well.

The wimpy guy comes over and re-asks me my name. He had already questioned where I lived and announced we lived close to each other. I corrected him by pointing out that he was not listening to what I said, since we did not live near each other. He attempted for the third time that night to converse with me by stating that I looked so familiar to him. He switched gears and asked me what I did for a living. I told him and he believed he automatically could use my services.

By this time, Trudy and the bobble head noticed the imposition but viewed it as an opportunity for encouragement. They did their best to endear him to me, which required zero effort and when they realized this, they attempted to make me import interest to him.

I told him I had to leave and get my coat.

He was persistent. For the second time that night he complimented my hair and stated it would be hard to forget the mane I sport. I cringed. And, as usual, I laughed so I did not have to respond at all.

"And now that I have seen your smile, it is something I cannot forget" he offered as he observed me put on my coat.

I wished right then and there I had a puke pot handy.

Ignoring him, I headed out the door in relief, hoping I would not see him ever again.


Glamourpuss said...

Yuck. Some men have no idea how slimey they are.


Inarticulate Fumblings said...


I'm glad you left when you did. Nasty, nasty, nasty.

Gucci Muse said...

Puss & IF- you both made me laugh! I probably will have to see this idiot again because of the mutual friend- but ICKY and CLUELESS would also better describe him.

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STAG said...

I confess I'll never understand the rules. I think I was at that party! Lets see...don't introduce yourself, you will be considered too "chatty". Don't "do" yourself up, you will be considered too gay at best, and competing with her at worst. Unless you are gay of course, in which case thats fine. And for gosh sakes, no matter how much she has prepared for this evening, don't dare compliment her on any single thing lest she feels that you are judging her.
Most importantly, when she politely snubbs you, then back off so that she can enjoy the rest of the evening without you being the only memory worth the trouble writing about.

Right. Explains why I don't go to cocktail parties. I am "definitely" one of those guys that don't "get it". I think I got written about in too many diaries over the years.

Poor sap. Pity that there are no finishing schools for guys.

Gucci Muse said...

Hello Stag- your comment was pretty funny and right on-its basically a catch 22, unfortunately-and yes, how could I have missed you that night?

Some men do not take the hint because they are egged on by the "challenge". What they fail to realize is that the challenge is for them to understand the unspoken language of a woman.

And you should go to cocktail parties, I am sure you would provide some much needed humor, and womanly advice, for all the stiffs.

Bill From Gainesville said...

Wow, it's like getting inside the head of the opponent. The subtle laugh instead of an answer--- The school girl meet with the other woman... All good things to read about for my next challenge social cues as they were to help me grasp the big blow off...Thanks Gucci

Gucci Muse said...

Bill-I guess a woman's clues are hard to detect, because sometimes, so are a man's.

But in this case, the first clue this man missed was my cutting the conversation short when he first approached and then my subsequent excuse/exit to go sit and eat-without him.

Had I remained, holding my plate, or made eye contact with him from where I was sitting, it would have been an indication of interest on my part. Wimpy missed that clue entirely.

And sometimes, to be cordial and kind, and not mean or bitchy, I can see how some men are confused by us.