OMG LJ ENTRY WORTHY OMG
I got on the train this evening, put on my headphones. A guy was standing near the doors in front of me. He was muscular, big eyes, dreadlocks...all very nice features for a perverted train dweller who has an hour's journey ahead of her. At that point I think he looks kinda familiar, but I brush it off and attribute it to good looks.
He approaches me, tells me I have pretty eyes. Asks me for my number.
I have a collection of appropriate responses reserved for the strange men who approach me on the train. I could probably write a coffee table book. Unfortunately, I was too busy being caught off guard to come up with the right one.
I don't give him my number. I know better than to give out my number to crazies I meet on the train. Even if they're a fine piece of man ass. He then insists that I take his, and I do but only in the light hearted sense that I would not deprive a cute child of believing in Santa Clause.
He starts asking me questions and I'm trying to be polite. A series of simple awkward conversation starters are put into play...what's you're name, what do you do, and then all of a sudden...
Does anyone remember Max-A-Million? He had a platinum record in the mid nineties...his hit song was "Sexual Feeling"....Yeah, well
THIS WAS HIM.
He's worked with Snoop, Biggie Smalls, Mary J....
And apparently now the dude is a producer for Making the Band.
What!?
I couldn't believe it. And I didn't until I came home and raped verification of said "Max-A-Million" from the internet until I had reached a healthy level of amazement/satisfaction. Man, I haven't exchanged a word with anyone remotely famous, let alone seen a celebrity outside of the pages of my daily (ashamed) gossip blogs. I was starstruck. Motherfucking starstruck.
And I got his number. ;)
He approaches me, tells me I have pretty eyes. Asks me for my number.
I have a collection of appropriate responses reserved for the strange men who approach me on the train. I could probably write a coffee table book. Unfortunately, I was too busy being caught off guard to come up with the right one.
I don't give him my number. I know better than to give out my number to crazies I meet on the train. Even if they're a fine piece of man ass. He then insists that I take his, and I do but only in the light hearted sense that I would not deprive a cute child of believing in Santa Clause.
He starts asking me questions and I'm trying to be polite. A series of simple awkward conversation starters are put into play...what's you're name, what do you do, and then all of a sudden...
Does anyone remember Max-A-Million? He had a platinum record in the mid nineties...his hit song was "Sexual Feeling"....Yeah, well
THIS WAS HIM.
He's worked with Snoop, Biggie Smalls, Mary J....
And apparently now the dude is a producer for Making the Band.
What!?
I couldn't believe it. And I didn't until I came home and raped verification of said "Max-A-Million" from the internet until I had reached a healthy level of amazement/satisfaction. Man, I haven't exchanged a word with anyone remotely famous, let alone seen a celebrity outside of the pages of my daily (ashamed) gossip blogs. I was starstruck. Motherfucking starstruck.
And I got his number. ;)