YES, I’m Female!

No, this isn’t me. I don’t share pictures of myself for safety’s sake.  But I got my hair cut in a pixie cut like this on Saturday because, in revenge for the whole sexy pink panties hanging out of his coat thing (which Logan was relentlessly teased by his co-workers, fellow tube riders, and the morning Walker’s on the pavement), Logan decided that since I had dozed off on the sofa I needed a hair cut.  He used my pinking shears and randomly cut swaths out of my hair (which had grown down to my mid-back).

When I woke up, he was holding LOTS of my hair in his hands and was busy making a toupee for the bansai tree.  Once I realized that he had not, in fact, shaved the neighbour’s cat, my shrieks and loud profanities attracted someone to notify the constabulary.  That created QUITE the stir and, of course, drew an audience from the rest of the community.

The constables left after a bit (snickering and snorting about our antics) with a semi-stern warning about disturbing the peace. I left and got my pixie cut and was feeling like Audrey Hepburn.  What a wonderful feeling!  I actually took the time to look at my reflection and thought to myself, “You are quite the irresistible hottie.”

My musings were abruptly interrupted by a toddler loudly asking Mom, “Why is that man staring in the window?”. Well damn!

I put on my cap and detoured through the park. I saw a pretzel vendor so I bought a big hot pretzel and a drink and wandered through the park.  Just beyond the tunnel a homeless looking guy accosted me brandishing a screwdriver and said, “Dude, gimmee your wallet!”

“Dude”?  REALLY?  So I lit into him about his gender error, and he looked absolutely stunned and bewildered. His response was to look at me oddly and say, “Seriously? You aren’t a Dude? Sure you’re not one of them confused people?” I assured him that I am, in fact, of the female flavor and he is still not convinced. I thought about pulling my shirt up, but that would only raise more doubts for him.

Understand that during our conversation, the menacing screwdriver has been forgotten and is back in his pocket and he is more curious and befuddled than threatening.  Finally, I reached out and grabbed his danglers and said,”Do you feel what I have in my hand? Well, I don’t have one and am pretty happy about that ”

His response? He reached out and grabbed my crotch. When the patrolling constable happened by, she notices the pair of us groping each other.

Long story short, Logan will NEVER let me live down the fact that he had to come collect me from the station and vouch for me.



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