Every now and then, there is a disturbance in the force and I end up with no really good plans for the weekend. This disturbance if perpetuated all weekend, usually leads to a Monday morning case of the crazies, but hopefully it wont come to that this weekend.
In recognition of this disturbance, I typically get some takeout Chinese and a bottle of wine: a little trick I learned from Miranda on Sex and the City. Generally, I try to do this early in the evening like at 6 pm. If it’s later, I get all paranoid, like the liquor store people are going to assume I have no life. I do the same thing when I go pick up a movie, or my Chinese food. I act out a lie to make it look I have more going on than a solo evening of takeout, booze, and a movie. Sometimes I even go as far as to ask for a 2nd pair of chopsticks at the Chinese restaurant. Why do I care about what strangers think about me? I don’t know. ..
Tonight, I got stuck at work late and ended up at the liquor store at 8:30 p.m. I was on a mission: a $5 bottle of Paul Mason Chardonnay. I had a $10 bill in my wallet. The transaction should be simple.
I am not sure if I ever mentioned hot liquor store guy before (henceforth referred to as HLSG) but when I moved to this neighborhood 6 months ago, I found the store open the latest had this hot black man working there. He only works late, and possibly only on the weekends, since the last time I saw him was a few months ago on a Sunday night. So the minute I walk in and see him, I know that I won’t be buying the $5 bottle of wine. I instantly create a scenario in my head where I am buying wine for a party that I am going to, hence I will need to browse the chilled wine section for something classier because no one brings a $5 screw cap bottle of wine to a Friday night party. After loitering in the chilled wine section, which is adjacent to the 40s (that I am tempted to buy for no good reason) I finally select an $8.99 Riesling, deciding that it’s classy looking enough for the imaginary affair I am attending.
I saunter up to the counter, lotion my hands, toss my hair, and prepare to flash my ID for my purchase. When I’m finally greeted by HLSG, I smile, giggle coyly when he calls me “sweetie” and thank him politely when he wishes me a good night. Typically, I can manage more of a conversation than this, but this guy is hot and black; and living in Boston, he might as well be David Beckham. I was all kinds of nervous and giggly like a school girl.
I return to my car, only to realize that this man’s hotness just swindled me out of four extra dollars. I was supposed to get $5 back from my Hamilton. Instead, I got a Washington and a Lincoln coin. Is getting people to spend money that easy? Just have a super attractive person peddling their wares?
Call me shallow or call me a typical woman, but yes, yes it is that easy. I started to think about how much more money I’ve spent because of hot men. Hot men make me choose MAC eyeshadow instead of Cover Girl. Hot men make me want to spend $10 on eyebrow waxes instead of doing it myself. Hot men make me choose shoes that are cute and pricey, over shoes that are frumpy and cheap. Hot men are the original economic stimulus plan. Put them anywhere, and I will buy what they are selling.
What’s great about the hot men theory, is they don’t even have to be straight. Ask any fashionista, a hot gay man telling you that you look fabulous in those jeans, is worth 10 times the compliment from any girl. My vote for our economic situation is to proclaim martial law. Round up all the hot men and hot women and put them to work. Take them out of their doctor, lawyer, and athlete jobs (or wherever they work) and put them in places where the average American will see them and shop accordingly. I want the hot people selling me my coffee at Starbucks; instead of a tall, I might splurge on a grande. I want hot people selling me my newspaper. If a hot man was on the corner of Main and School streets yelling, “Extra! Extra!” in a little newsie hat, I might buy his whole pile of Boston Heralds.
By most reports, the economy should start to recover by fall 2010, but if we really want to get this economy stimulated, I say we put the hot people in uniform, because nothing says hot better than a hot man in uniform. Make the hot people the cops on detail. Put the hot people in military uniforms doing everyday jobs. If you think I’ll buy a pile of newspapers from a hot man in a newsie hat, I might buy the whole damn printing press from a hot man in a sailor uniform.
Let’s get to work America, and start making this country a more financially stable and beautiful place. Because after all, what good is a stimulus package if your package isn’t getting stimulated?
The Dirty Martini
ASIDE
For the record, I think everyone should take a drink whenever you hear the word, “stimulus.” Seriously, I don’t think any form of the word stimulate has been used this much in our lexicon, since Viagra came out. I’m betting Merriam Webster declares ‘stimulus’ the word of the year for 2009.
ASIDE ENDED
Figure 1. The way a hug should be. Less the table and the breakfast food, of course.
Figure 1. Sexier than a mug for sure…
Figure 2. All eyes on sexy!
