After class I went to the gym. Run, run, run, sweat, sweat, sweat, you know how it goes.
On the drive home, I was feeling good. I did all the things I was supposed to do for the day and I was free to do what I had been wanting to do all day: unbutton my pants, take a nap and drink Diet Cokes. I really don't see how I don't go on more dates.
Rex Grayskull, my new iPod and love of my life (seriously, how am I not on a date right now as we speak?), must've been in a good mood too because he was pumping out the jams. Sweet Child Of Mine by Guns n' Roses came on. I was rockin'. Honestly, I think some people may have confused me for Axl Rose I was so good.
Pictured above: not me.
I was stopped at the light and was just getting ready for my air guitar solo, when I looked over and saw the guy in the car next to me giving me a look. It wasn't just a glance either, it was a glare. Nay, a smolder. I was being smoldered at.
At first I was a little taken aback. Then I thought about it. Here I am, rocking out so hard I was starting to fear for my car's safety. Of course this guy is checking me out! I thought. I must look like the coolest person on the planet right now.
Then I glanced in my rear view mirror to check out the situation this guy was seeing.
Woooooof. While in my mind I looked and felt like a rock star, I looked like I just escaped from an Elvis Presley impersonation festival. For crazies. During a hurricane.
The guy smirked at me and continued on his way. As for me, I did the only thing I could think to do to soften the embarrassment I felt: I put on Welcome to the Jungle and turned it on full blast. At the very least, I felt like I looked like the type of person who should be listening to Guns N' Roses.
Axl would be proud.
