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Ghetto Onion

I have two stories for you today about my ass.

Howdy, Neighbor!
This morning, I agreed to let Ryan drive my car to work because there is a chance he�ll have to drive other people around today, and the Probinator just ain�t cutting it. He was taking his time getting ready, and I had to get to work, so I had to do a bit of rearranging in order to meet his request. We have a single file driveway, and my car was in back, so I had to back it out of the driveway, park it on the street and then give him back the keys and finally get in the Probinator and drive to work. All was going well, my car was parked safely on the street, I�d collected my belongings, and I was headed back up the stairs to the house when a car came barreling down the street, music blaring.

I was on the sidewalk and up a couple of stairs when I heard, �DAMN!!!!� The driver of the piece of shit car actually stopped his car, breaks squealing. �DAMN!� he yelled again and then proceeded to watch me ascend the stairs. My back was to him the whole time. I can only assume that it was my ass that caught his eye. When I went back in the house, I told Ryan the story and he laughed saying, �I guess that�s how you say �Howdy, Neighbor!� in our neighborhood.�

Girls From the Train
It was Spring Break 1999. The Snow Princess, Kiki and I were traveling to LA to visit a friend from college. We were traveling stand-by because we were poor, so we had become trapped in St. Louis with no flights to take us to LA. After sleeping in the airport for one night, then hanging out in the terminals all day, we were told we could get a flight the next morning at 2:00 pm. Rejoice! We left the airport and crashed at a hotel for the night. The next morning, we decided to explore the city a bit, and hopped on the train to Downtown. While on the train, we were ogled by two men. One was a keenly dressed young man, his hair in long thin braids, stylish and hip, he bobbed his head to the music from his Walkman while he checked us out. The other man wore a pair of Fat Elvis�s sunglasses. He sported a gold tooth and a thin mustache. His hair was greased back into a set of waves that cascaded back towards the crown of his head. He was not shy with his appreciative stare.

As luck would have it, both men exited the train at St. Louis�s Union Station along with me and my friends. The young hip man left first and walked swiftly into the building. The greasy older man walked slowly behind us either limping or swaggering, I really can never tell the difference. As we hit the stairs to enter Union Station, he cried out slowly with increasing volume, �Damn. Damn! DAMN!!!�

We turned to look back at him.

�You girls look GOOD!� he said to the three of us. And then directly to my ass, he added, �Especially you!�

We giggled and rolled our eyes at each other and rushed into the building, making fun of him like bitchy girls do. Amazingly, among all of the souvenir and fudge shops in Union Station, we managed to find a bar with a pool table and spent the afternoon playing pool with the staff and drinking beer. Side note � we watched a guy hit the eight ball in on the break three times in a row. Crazy! Anyhow, it was nearing time to get back to the airport, so we said goodbye to our new friends and headed back towards the train. We were almost to the doors when we heard a man�s voice say appreciatively, �Girls from the train!�

We looked back to see the young hip guy transformed into a janitor pushing a mop with a wide grin on his perfectly stubbled face, his long thin braids peeking out of his cap. Que the giggling and eye rolling of bitchy girls.

Back at the airport, we were working our way through security. I had walked through the metal detector and was pulling my carry-on bag off of the conveyor belt. A young security guard stepped forward to assist me, his gold tooth glistening in the bright fluorescent lights. �Are you married?� he asked. �No,� I replied. �Well I could take care of that,� he grinned.

This was too much. No amount of eye rolling and giggling was going to brush this off. The girls decided that it was me who had attracted so much attention for the men of St. Louis, and that specifically, it was my ass that had them all over the three of us. From that day on, my ass has been referred to as a Ghetto Onion � so sweet it make you cry.

11:50 a.m. - August 18, 2005

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