2003-10-23 - 8:26 p.m.

Why, Festus?

I've been under the weather and preoccupied, dear readers,(both of you) so please forgive me for my sloth where new entries are concerned.

Today's thought is this: WHY IS IT that downright FUGLY guys, guys who are NOT trying at ALL to appear appealing in any way, shape or form, guys who are not only unshaven and badly dressed, but who are also apparently EXTREMELY unclean and most times, due to my location (deep South) dentally challenged, seem to think they have some sort of chance with me?

It must be true, what my soon-to-be-ex told me: The majority of men believe that ANY kind of acknowledgement from a woman, be it the basics such as "Hello" and "Excuse me" to the more simple accidental eye contact, means "Please! Leer at me! YES! Whistle at me through the decaying hole between your two eroded front teeth! Oh, please, make for me a warm nest in the tangle of smegma-caked dreds that ferment in your ugly-ass, oil-stained Rustlers...oh, YES, ugly, stinky man, YES!! It is YOU and only YOU I want, you big, ignorant, tobacco dribbling trailer turd!"

So I'm driving. This fellow pulls up alongside in the truck Moses used to get out of the desert. I haven't looked over, but I know he's looking at me because I can see the flesh-toned orb of his head aimed directly at me in my peripheral vision. I decide not to look, but at the last second, my brain decided it has to see...and LARD, but does it see. This guy is as old as my Dad, as grizzled as a caveman, and I swear, has just one visible tooth. He looked like he should've been jumping up and down with a pickaxe screaming about gold in them thar hills. He looked like Grizzly Adams' and Festus' lovechild, Deliverance style. And that scabby old puke LICKED HIS LIPS AND WINKED AT ME.

WHAT THE HELL?!!?

So I'm at Wal-Mart with Teets. I've come out with my bag of diapers to find Teets nearby, car running. I've stepped into the car and we've taken off, moving slowly as we politely allow the shoppers cross in front of us. As we crawl by the Coke machines, I see the scruffy, dust covered, mullet-sporting man I had seen earlier, jerking what must have been his misbehaving son through the medicine department. This time, he sees me, too...us, even...and he leans down as we drive by, low enough that he could poke his skanky head in the window were he close enough, and he displays his great approval of Teets and me by issuing a grotesque leer and some blessedly inaudible words toward the car. Teets and I are appalled, and we give him the universal signal for "You wish, greasetrap."

WHAT THE HELL?!?

So I'm at work. A big guy, name of Clarence, has been working camera for tv for 18 years. Clarence has particularly buggy eyes and they nearly dangle on their stalks as he drinks in views of all passing butts. Mine is a favorite of his; just like Eddie Murphy, I can tell when someone's looking, 'cause my butt gets hot. And Clarence is ALWAYS LOOKING. Clarence, who is not known for his intellect (he once painted his car with a can of Housepaint and a bristle brush) is treated a bit like a second class citizen at the workplace. because of that, I've always made an effort to be kind to him. NOT gushy, NOT flirty, NOT ANYTHING REMOTELY romantic-interest-related, I've just acknowledged the fact that he's a human and deserves the same respect the other not-so-Cromagnon folks get. From this treatment Clarence derives the idea that he is entitled to him a HUG.

Yes, a HUG.

From big, sweaty, smelly, icky, bug-eyed Clarence.

I don't think so.

He pesters me for a hug until I finally tell him I'll gouge out his pupil with my thumbnail if he touches me.

No hug for Clarence.

So what's the deal, guys? Should we just ignore all you visibly crusty losers like everyone else does, since you seem to mistake compassion for lap dancing?

It can't be a MAN trait, because the fresh-smelling, handsome, literate men with nice teeth don't doooooo that. Just you stinky guys.

What gives, Festus?

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