Last night while letting Daisy out, I decided to give her a quick walk up the street. It was dark so I thought no one would see me, and started doing lunges as I walked her. (I'm trying desperately to tighten my junk in the trunk.)
Five minutes later I heard something behind me and turned to see the neighbor's hot son. Great.
It might not have been so bad if I wasn't wearing a wife beater tank top, an ex-boyfriend's ratty boxers and mismatched flip-flops. At times like this I'm amazed I ever get dates.
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3 comments:
Did he talk to you anyway?
Shouldn't every neighborhood have THAT GIRL? Mine doesn't, weren't you going to move out of catland? **Hint**
Anon: Nope.
Anon 2: I'd like to think every house should have "That Girl."
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