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BlackChampagne -- no longer new; improvement also in question.: Fill 'er up?



Saturday, November 04, 2006  

Fill 'er up?


Earlier this week I stopped at a gas station in a pretty bougie part of town at around 10:30pm. Coming home from a thing, Malaya was not with me, and I had no cash so I used a credit card to pay at the pump. As I pull up and get out some random woman starts yelling at me from a bench near the gas station door. I couldn't really hear her with traffic going by, and I didn't really want to hear her, since she was sitting with some guy and I figured they were just weird homeless people. You know, the kind who hang around gas stations late at night and yell at motorists. I figured they were a couple and they were about to panhandle spare change, or say that their car was out of gas and they'd been robbed and that they needed a few bucks to get home, etc.

I was surprised when she got up and started walking over towards me, and the guy she was with detoured to the dumpster with a trash bag in his hand. He was the cashier, I could see, and she gave him a wave and said goodbye as he went back into the minimart and she closed in on me. The woman was relatively young, 20ish perhaps, very thin, white, long dark hair, wearing jeans and boots and some sort of white/gray sweater/wrap. Not unattractive, but she was smoking, which is a huge turn off for me, and she gave off a very dizzy, half-stoned vibe, which is another big turn off. Not that it matters, since I'm happy with Malaya, but just trying to give an honest appraisal of the woman. If I were single I'd have been interested in her in another situation, but never stumbling towards me at a gas station like that.

Once she was in ear range she said, "Do you know where any parties are? It's so boring here."

So you're a whore, I thought, as I replied. "I don't live around here, so I don't really know where anything is. The college that way must have something going on; there are dorms."

She had stopped a few feet away from me, blocked from further progress by my open car door, which was touching the gas pump. I was standing behind it, with my gas tank on the driver's side, so she was arm's reach from me, but my car door was between us.

"Oh yeah. I go to that college." she said, then kind of trailed off with a shrug. "It's boring though," she added after a moment, when I said nothing more and put the gas pump back once my tank was full, then tried again. "Do you know where any parties are?"

I said that I didn't and that I lived over in the East Bay, and wished her luck finding a party. As I put my gas cap back on and it became clear to her that I wasn't going to hit on her or ask her if she wanted a ride, she got a bit more animated and mumbled something along the lines of, "Well thanks. High five!"

She actually raised her right hand up over her head, Borat style. I gave her a high five as I got into my car, just on the principle that it's easier to humor crazy people than argue with them, and she met my hand with her surprisingly-warm palm, then gripped my fingers for a moment, until I pulled them away.

She tried one last time, with something along the lines of, "You're sure you don't know where any parties are?" and since my getaway seemed sure, I threw her a pity bone. "If I didn't have a girlfriend I might be able to show you." I mumbled as I slid into my seat, slammed the door, and zoomed away before she threw herself onto my hood or something. I saw her watching me go in my rear view mirror, and was glad when the first light was green and I was able to put a couple of blocks between me and the gas station, just in case.

When I got home I asked Malaya, "When a strange girl walks up to you at a gas station late at night and asks if you know where a party is, she want's to give you a blow job, right?" Malaya assured me that yes, it meant she did, and thusly reassured, I went about the remainder of my evening with a glad heart, and only a few fleeting thoughts of what sort of trucker/escaped con might currently be sodomizing that skinny girl's still-warm corpse.

On a more serious note, I wonder what was up with her. She wasn't dirty or homeless looking, and she said she went to college, and she wasn't ugly. So what was she doing roaming around the streets at that hour, trying to pick up gas station attendents, and then random guys in cars? And trying it in such a classless, yet non-slutty fashion? I got the impression she wanted someone, anyone, to keep her company and maybe buy her dinner, and that she was more than willing to pay for said company with vagina dollars. If so, why not just go all out and whip out her titties, or pantomime thumb-sucking, or straight out ask a guy if he wants to have sex? Not that "Do you want to party." is much of a euphenism.

She wasn't giving off a whore vibe, though. Maybe she was too stoned, or maybe she was a real woman who had recently decided on a career change and didn't quite now how to go about acting the part, or maybe she was just really unhappy and lonely and didn't know what else to do with herself, but her approach was a mess. At a bar she could have just thrown some smoldering looks and had plenty of guys working to pick her up, and at a truck stop she'd have been fine with her current approach. But at a gas station in a good part of town she was a fish out of water; so forward that non-sleazy guys would be suspicious. I certainly was, and even if I were single I wouldn't have tarried with her. I would have expected AIDS exposure at best and a bitten off penis or carjacking attempt at worst.

I am curious about how her evening ended, though. I almost wish I'd had time and money and interest enough to take her to a Denny's or something and put some pancakes in her emaciated frame while I asked her what the hell a cute, moneyed, white university student was doing all-but-turning tricks at a Arco at 10:30 on a Thursday night.

Labels: ,

Comments:

What a wasted opportunity . . . every red-blooded male needs a little strange every now and then, some fresh meat, so to speak.

To hell with the GF and her routine tricks, you shoulda gone for the gusto. Insteady, you are now wondering right now whether the party-lover finally got laid or not. Bleh.


 

Even if I accepted your argument, which I do not, I certainly wouldn't have cashed in my chips on this particular piece of bony, cigarette-stinking gas station trash. I'd need like, Angelina Jolie quality poontang, and if she brought her Benneton orphanage by the crib Malaya would demand I take a swing just on general principles.


 

LOL You will NEVER get Angelina Jolie quality poontang, you self-deluded fool. And I doubt Malaya would be happy if you took "a swig" of such on general principles, even if Angelina saw any promise in your skinny loser ass !!!!

PS: I'm afraid to say that Angelina promises to be a lot more savy than poor Malaya when it comes to partner choices.


 

Ahh, the helpful advice of an anonymous blog commenter who previously established his bonafides by advertising his eagerness to pick up gas station whores. I don't mind commenters trying to insult me; I just wish they'd do a better job of it.

Although I was obviously joking since the only Angelina quality poontang is... Angelina Jolie, I am compelled to point out that she was married to Billy Bob Thorton, one of the five dirtiest men in Hollywood. I don't think we can rule out anyone as below her standards, given that past history.


 

You are one DUMB muthafucka if you think for a second that anyone believes you referenced Angelina Jolie as "obviously a joke". What a transparent bastid you be. Sure, Billy Thorton might be a dirty slut, but to put yourself anywhere near him is a cruel and stupid misnomer seeing as you are a nightcrawling leech who probably cannot say "hi" to a real live attractive woman other than the sad and sorry Malaya who got suckered before meeting you by your formerly witty blog that has now deteriorated to once-a-week and weak postings). At least you give me a good laugh with your delusions!


 

You're right, I was clearly serious when I referenced possibly the most famous beautiful woman on earth dropping by my home, for sex, with her small multicultural army of adoptees. I'd picked up the living room so Brad and Malaya and the kids could all sit and enjoy tea while Angie and me got busy in the bedroom and everything. Fortunately you came along to convince me of the folly of my ways. This sort of benefit is exactly the reason I switched to blogger so readers could post comments!


 

Ah, but what if you stopped at a gas station, and none other than the spitting image of Angelina Jolie walked up to you and asked you if you knew of any good parties? (Sans adoptees, of course, or current/past husbands).

Would you then be ready to RUN to the nearest motel with your gas station conquest, and check in?

Change it around - what if it was not Angelina but a very attractive thin young woman who was obviously lonely?

Are you a man, a maggot, or a mouse?


 

Damn, i never took the time to read the comments.. too bad. It seems there are some real jewels here. I just don't get it why people with such aggressive views on your blogging are doing reading it. Am i missing something?
As to your current situation, good luck with dating. Hardest part of life ever.


 

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