I Don't Do Geriatrics

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Porkchop, minding her own business, sits in a chair waiting for her car salesperson to return with some figures. She smiles politely at all who make eye contact, resisting the urge to scrub her entire body with instant hand sanitizer after some of the looks she recieves.

Manager: Hi! My name is Mike!

Porkchop: Hello.

I briefly made eye contact and returned to staring at the walls.

10 minutes later.

Manager: Hi! My name is Mike!

He shook my hand and I gripped his hand unusually hard to indicate I would have no qualms in crushing his middle-aged enthusiasm for young girls. I politely introduced myself. He then made small talk, but finially blurted out "So, how old are you, I'm 33." When I told him my age, he looked crestfallen and replied "No, I couldn't do you, your to young."

Excuse me? Did I look like I was asking "to be done"? Do I have a invisible sign on my forehead that says Please Do Me, No One Else Will, Including Men My Own Age? I should have informed him I wouldn't do him either, since the topic had been brought up, he was too old.

And ugly

5 Responses to “I Don't Do Geriatrics”

  1. Blogger TSG 

    Ewww. That's... just... ewww. Sorry my species is so fucked.

  2. Blogger Sask 1 

    Should of pepper sprayed his eyes.

  3. Blogger Porkchop 

    Last summer, I did a modeling job for a car dealership. One of the men who worked there happened to be completely disgusting and supremely irritating. After I threatened to gouge his eyes out with a ink pen, I found out he was the son of the owner... (they still ended up offering me a job!)

    This recently came back to haunt me when I was sitting in traffic and saw his perverted self in the car next to me.

    The only thing I could think of was maybe a quick carjacking.

  4. Blogger Memphis Steve 

    Did he seriously say that?! "I couldn't do you." Seriously?

    I'm guessing this isn't the most well-thought-out pickup line in history. It's right up there with "your legs must be tired 'cause you been runnin' through my mind all night long."

    "I couldn't do you." Geeeeeez.

  5. Blogger Robin 

    Ick Ick Ick. What a sleeze!

    P.S. 33 isn't that old!

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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