Monday, June 8, 2009

Sometimes a mourning soul only needs a splash of light to brighten its dark corners…

My splash of light came in the form of a college boy with a gigantic zit on his ass.

The ass zit. Come on admit it. We’ve all had one. And if you are going to tell me that you’ve never had one then I am immediately going to take you off of my “invite over for a fantastic alcohol saturated Partay!” list. However, I probably won’t take you off of my “do dirty naughty things to” list. Because if you have never actually had an ass zit then you are either very very clean or have no pours. And let’s face it; someone who has no pours is probably into some really kinky shit.

I was standing on a corner waiting for traffic to clear when I saw him. The albino boy running down the street was the nerdiest of nerdy you can imagine. His hair was so white it was almost clear. He was skinny to the point of awkward ganglyness. As he passed me I had to notice that his shorts just were not keeping up their end of the cover-my-ass bargain. Of course, working on campus, ass crack just isn’t something to get worked up over. There are nubile 20somethings crawling all over the place letting their southern smile shine upon the world. It’s just a fact. Hell, walking past one of the many lawns there are almost always a dozen girls sunning themselves, lying on their stomachs with their bikini tops undone. When you get a regular dose of side boob, ass crack just doesn’t even register on the holy crap meter. I mean, how can it? Side Boob. It’s a lovely thing after along day of work. But, butt! This particular butt was sporting a zit the size of my big toe and in the midst of my sadness, this was the funniest thing I had ever seen.

While laughing (quietly – I do have a tiny shred of tact that keeps me in check on occasion) I was joined by another young man who was just as amused as I was. Waiting for traffic and bonded by our chuckles we started up a conversation that eventually led us to get ice cream by the lake. It was nice but it was also other worldly uncomfortable and embarrassing. When in the hell did 17 year olds get so damn confident and cocky? And when in the name of buddha did they get so freaking hot? Yes, the thoughts of jail time and someone’s mom beating me with a wooden spoon interrupted my thoughts of eating him up with a spoon. Lordy lordy. That boy had the perfect V shaped body that only exists before the age of 22.
He had low slung jeans that perfectly fit his ass-ets. And I swear to Moses he knew all the dirty (illegal, holy fucking crap, jail bait) thoughts that were skipping across my mind. He liked it too. The child was flirting with me and took every chance he could to touch my arm or put his hand on my back. He was giving me the look of “I know you like what you see.” Since when did 17 year olds get that kind of knowldege? It was completely unnerving. If he had been sweet or obnoxiously cocky it would have been much easier to stay focused on him being a one way ticket to striped jumpsuits. No one looks good in full body stripes. No One. But he was calm and sure and scarily easy to talk to. He was funny and flirty and hitting on me. It was not my old lady sex-deprived imagination either. When we were finishing up our creamy dessert, heh, he mentioned that he would be on campus for the weekend and asked if he could have my number so we could hang out. So we could get to know each other better. Now, it’s been a long as time since I’ve been on the hook-up scene but I’m pretty fucking sure he didn’t mean over a game of checkers and a bedtime story. Not unless that bedtime story included a real bed and no pajamas. I declined and then I took my dirty old lady ass back to the office. But still, there’s nothing like ass zits and the attention of a living breathing Abercrombie and Fitch picture to brighten your day.
No Ass Zits There!

1 comment:

Stacie's Madness said...

I never ever get hit on, it's true. If I do, it's the ass zit guy hitting on me.