|
2001-08-14-9:15 p.m. I have to credit my archrival Ms. M for giving me the idea for this entry. I read an entry she wrote about an abysmal blind date she had and it brought this amusing anecdote to mind. My brother is a Bubba. He�s a snuff-dipping, dirt-track racecar building, former high-school rodeo team Bubba. We used to live together before he got married a few years ago. For a thankfully brief time he and my now sister-in-law entertained thoughts of acting as matchmakers on my behalf. This is the story of one of their ill-conceived attempts to hook me up. My brother and I have very little in common save similar tastes in music. He and my sister in law get it up in their heads that this guy that works on the racecar with my brother would somehow be a suitable match for me. The hunk in question is at most four inches taller than I am and I am only five feet tall. He is missing several teeth, most notably the upper two front teeth and he frankly seems to me to be more than a little daft. My would-be Romeo is also the proud owner of not one but two motor vehicles. The one I see him in most often is a bright red Ford Festiva. The Festiva is strikingly adorned with a seven-foot CB antenna and one of those tornado stickers on the back window indicating that he is a �storm chaser.� I watched �Twister� and if a tornado will pick up a Suburban like it�s a speck of dust, I hate to think what may lie in store for a Festiva. It would make a pretty little red speck set against the swirling gray of the tornado, although I doubt aesthetic concerns were a considering factor in his choice of vehicle color. The other vehicle is ancient extra-long van like the ice cream men drive except that his is a rusty navy blue. My future Lothario is also employed full-time working for the city doing important cerebral work like painting the swimming pool and raking leaves. Hard to believe I would turn away a gem like this, isn�t it? When my brother broached the subject, the least offensive thing I could think of to say was, �I�m so sure I�m going to go out with a guy who drives a Festiva!� When I repeated this story to some coworkers, they accused me of being shallow and said that the eligible bachelor in question might have a Lexus at home in the garage. I was forced to point out to them that he was in fact my brother�s friend and if he owned a Lexus or any other luxury car or a mansion in the hills, I would have heard about it. Since then if I say anything about my lack of male companionship, one of my friends is sure to quip, �What about Festiva Man? You could have had something there and you just threw it away!� **Disclaimer: All characters in this diary are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, real or imagined, is purely coincidental and unintentional.** |
