01 March, 2006

What Can I Do Fer Ya Little Lady?

“Excuse Me!” I cried over the parking lot.

My “EX-CUSE Me!!!” even had a high lilt to it. That high pitched girly lilt that I only whip out when I either want something from the other species or when I am drunk and bump into someone I haven’t seen in years. Either way, I can make it do the cute thing rather well and work it to death.

Lollie was laughing her butt off like a hyena in heat. SHE was the one who said he was cute and SHE was the one that made the comment on “how do you meet men like that?”. Me? I’m not interested. I’ve already dated enough cops in my life and I don’t EVER need to go there again. But turning on the flirt for a friend? That’s just for a good cause and pure enjoyment to boot. And of course I had a foul proof plan. If only Lollie would stop having a fit into her armpit.

After the scurry-kinda-run-kinda-dash-in-heels across the parking lot Bette Midler style, I ended up panting a bit at the Police Officers patrol car. He was cute damn it. Blonder than a Von Tramp with glassy blue eyes to boot. Mr. Blue Eyed Officer Kiwi Cop rolled down the window and kindly ask “Are you alright?”. To which I responded;

“I have this piece of paper that I have to fill out."
<insert hair twirl here>

"For the car that I just bought."
<big smile>

"And there is a box here asking for a VIN number."
<insert batty eye stupid look here, plus a head cock>

"So um, where do I find the VIN number thingy?”

He smiled.

Well of course he did.

A) I am an American and therefore everyone around me assumes that I have a pig’s clue about geography and B) I am an American WOMEN so naturally everyone here assumes that I know crap about anything mechanical or car related.

Heh! Little do they know who raised me.

Commence flirt.

Blue Eyed Officer Kiwi Cop kindly asked me where my car was and I kindly pointed to “over there” where Lollie was standing practically bent over in convulsions from laughing so hard. And her laughter got worse. BEOK Cop actually got out of the car like big-ol'-John Wayne and I swear - Hand To GOD - I kid you not - HE HIKED UP HIS BELT.

A gander over yonder later and a “Pop the bonnet Love” BEOK Cop was kindly reading off the VIN number of my brand spanking new 1997 Ford Green Piece of Shit to me. And then actually did a lean into the hood and whipped out his radio so he could “call it in.”

Lollie of course stood there the whole time snickering and coughing. I worked my best flirt for her and the girl could barely move an inch to make an audible noise that could pass for a voice word one. Not even a lean with boobs hanging out over the radiator and asking “What’s that?” in a dumb-ass voice.

Nothing. Sheesh. You teach your friends your best tricks and they leave you SO hanging!

And then BEOK Cop drove away with his plainly NOT MARRIED wedding band-less hands on the steering wheel.

What a waste.