The Pick Up Car

I know that being the hot sexy gal that I am that I will be hit on (YEAH RIGHT), but there is something strange in the air in Los Angeles. When I was back in the old country (back on planet earth, a little place called Denver) men did things right. They would approach only the attractive petite girls who wear TIGHT jeans which enable you to determine the color of her thong. The men get drunk, buy the girls fruity little drinks with umbrellas in them, and for the most part I am left alone. I have gotten used to this. I have never been picked up or even hit on in a bar, or restaurant, or anywhere....

Anyhow- I digress; the point is that there are times and places when you expect to be hit on, right? Yet out here, the car pick up seems to be gaining in momentum. I am in my little sanctuary, driving west on Pico this morning rockin' out to a little Journey and the 40-ish year old mexican guy with a little mustache that made him look kinda like a child molester pulls up next to me. I'm a little startled because he was staring right at me. And I'm thinking that it's just because I am rockin out to Journey-- you know I had the head bob going, the belting out of the most excellent 80's lyrics EVER (and believe me, this is all very cool in my Chevy Cavalier!). So when I got that strange feeling that someone was watching me--you know that feeling right? Sometimes you just feel like you are being watched? So I laughed because I knew that I was just geekin out and looked like a giant spaz. And then, the best thing ever happened. He smiles back at me. It was either the gold tooth OR the 20 oz Beer in the cup holder of his paint splattered 1988 Nissan Pick up truck with a bobble head Jesus on the dash that killed the moment. Oh yeah, and the Jerry Curl he must have dipped his head in....EWWWEE. Anyhow- so I wonder why can I get picked up by that douchebag but not by a nice respectable person with all his teeth matching eachother in one shade of off white or another.

Does this happen to anyone else??