Alright, I forgot to mention something very critical in the ongoing saga that is Incredipete’s life. As you all know, I have had an inexplicable crazed attraction to the girl at the vet’s office. For convenience I’ll call her “hotpants.” She is everything I’m looking for in a woman, except for the red hair, and that’s easy to change.
For instance, she has a beautiful smile, and a sparkle in her baby blue eyes. You can tell she’s got the “right stuff” if you know what I mean, even though her medical scrubs don’t really do her justice. She is super friendly and always makes an extra effort to come out and play with Abby and talk to me. I know all of her pets names, and what they like to do, eat, and their complete medical history.
Actually, I think she mainly likes Abby, but you never know. The point is, contrary to what you all think, I’m not a complete wuss when it comes to the dating ritual. In fact, I am IncrediIncredipete, doer of good things where women are concerned. (I stole that from “Sports Night” on HBO)
The point being, I casually came around to the subject of asking her out about 2 weeks ago, give or take. I had some trepidation going in, because one time I asked out a waitress I’d known for about 2 years, and she got all weird and to this day I still can’t go to that restaurant because she acts like she’s got a restraining order out on me. Come on, gal. I asked for your phone number, and called you once. ONCE. I’m not a stalker. I just liked you and thought we got along pretty well. Sorry, I guess you were just acting friendly and interested for a tip. Here’s a tip. Kiss my butt, career waitress.
ANYHOO, I didn’t want to freak hotpants out and have to find a new vet. She was very sweet about it, and informed me that she has a boyfriend. I suppose that’s an ok excuse. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been in the wings, waiting for him to screw it up, because inevitably it always happens. Girls as cute, smart, and friendly as her always date complete worthless losers that play Nintendo all day and treat them bad. So sure, I would have been willing to invest a little wait time in her.
That is, until I took Amber to the vet yesterday. There was the gal, sweet and friendly as ever. We talked for a while, she played with Liv, and then she turned around to go get some paperwork. She had her hair up, and what I saw sent a chill down my spine.
Tattooed squarely on the back of her neck… The mark of the beast. I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that a)she peeved the tattoo artist b)someone played a cruel practical joke on her c)she thought it meant something else. (Like accidentally getting a Pentagram tattoo instead of a Star of David.) This girl is the antichrist! Or at least she’d like to be. The only consolation is that it’s not a birthmark (then I’d really be frightened) but getting it tattooed on your neck is pretty extreme.
I guess nobody would follow the antichrist if he looked like Freddy, and now I know… the antichrist is an insanely cute 24 year old blonde.
I’d still date hotpants if she were single, but I’d definitely bring some holy water with me just in case.
I’m going to become a monk now. I hope I can get on Diaryland from the monestary.