Wednesday, December 27, 2006

The Sexual Revolution: In Its Infancy.

I am an empowered woman. I am an independent woman. The shoes on my feet? Yeah, I bought them. I like to look at the world through "Kate Colored Glasses" where people really are not homophobic, racist or sexist. That is absurd! How 1950's!

Today I embarked on a solo mission to the Home Depot. I was feeling empowered, confidant and ready to pick out the various hardware items I needed. A couple of gallons of paint, check. A big, two-gallon bucket of primer, check. Now I was in need of three pieces of wood, 1 1/2 inch by 1 1/2 inch. A task I found rather daunting, but hey! I am a strong, independent, professional, thirty year old woman! I not only "ROAR!", I follow it up with a "WHOOT WHOOT!" and a sassy, "HOLLA!"

I could totally do this.

As I left the safety of the paint aisle, an aisle consisting of many of my female compatriots, which was comforting and non-threatening, I followed the main aisle to the, dark and scary land, also known as the lumber aisle. The lighting became grey and ominous, as I clutched onto the note card relaying my careful instructions. I felt a lump, deep in the pit of my belly, as I made a left turn into the dreaded, " Den of the Contractors".

I chanted to myself as I chugged cautiously down the aisle...."I think I can, I think I can, I know I can, I KNOW I CAN!

The independent construction-contractor, a person most likely of the male persuasion.Not just a male, but a redneck, Alpha Male.*shudder*

I walked tentatively up the aisle, looking at all the lumber, (which may as well have been ancient, Egyptian Hieroglyphics, because I was not comprehending what I was looking at, at all), as I was approached by two, very scary, and very dirty contractors. "Hey pretty", I smiled and turned away as fast as I could. " I am Helen Keller.......... I see no one, I hear no one. I am lumber, I am an inanimate object, I have no senses."

But seriously, what the hell are men thinking? Think about guys, are you really going to "pick up a chick" in the lumber department of the Home Depot? Especially, with your super sexy, super dirty coveralls? I mean, nothing is HOTTER to me, than I man with fingernails as dark as tar and with a scent of turpentine and Camel Filters. You don't see women in the tampon aisle trying to lure that one member of the opposite sex who has made a wrong turn into the menstrual-dome, do you? Come on!

As I stood there, still as stone, I looked out of the corner of my eye to make sure they were at a safe distance, so I could high tale it the hell to the next aisle! As I turned in the next aisle, relief set in. I was sure I found what I was looking for! The heavens opened, the heavenly light poured down from the rafters, and I even heard Christmas Muzak! I had found my wood (natch). I was headed for the promised-land of the check-out aisle.

I felt relieved. I felt amazing. I felt like Gloria Steinem. I had faced the oppressor, and I had fucking, survived! I walked out of the exit of the Home Depot, trying to look graceful and confidant, as I struggled to maneuver the 500 lb cart with three, 15 ft., pieces of wood in it. In order to regain control of my cart, I had to circle around the truck lane where, *GASP*! The contractors loaded up! GOD NO!

As I fumbled with the cart, trying to put my sunglasses on, because these men were not going to see the FEAR IN MY EYES, though they could sense it... They are just like dogs, those contractors.... As I struggled to keep my confidence, I heard the most, ridiculously, absurd statement, I have heard:

"LOOK! It's a girl! She can't even push the cart!BAWAHAHAHAHAHA!

I was mortified, horrified, embarrassed and frightened. I tripped over my feet, and was thrusted into oncoming traffic. I was almost hit by a car. After regaining my composure, I then found my vehicle, loaded up, and got the hell out of there.

When I arrived home, I was proud to have accomplished my task, and relieved to have made it out of there alive and un-groped.

As I sat down to relax by way of Cafe Vienna instant international coffee, for the ex-pat in all of us, the Little Honey broke the bad news.

I picked out the wrong wood.

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