ive been sold for goat

I've Been Sold For A Goat

I've had one of the oddest days today in recent memory.

This morning I went to David's Bridal to see if they had the style

bridesmaid dress that I will be wearing this summer in my friend's

wedding. They had one that was too big in the red color, but I found

one I thought would be a better fit in black. Turns out that was too

big too! They had just about every other size except for the one I

needed. And given that it was a Saturday (swamped) and I was not a

bride, no one wanted to help me. So I found another empire waist dress

in the new size to try on. And it fit great! I love it when you need a

smaller size than you anticipated - that NEVER happens to me. This was

especially ego boosting since the weight loss plan is bombing hard.

I'm told I'm gaining muscle, I believe I'm turning into Anna Nicole

Smith - The Fat Years. Either way, I left David's bridal a little

frazzled from the hustle and bustle of the brides and their entourages

but happy with the sizing discovery.

Then I went to my beloved mechanic's shop for an oil change. I don't

even know how to set the scene for this story so forgive me for not

paying attention in high school english classes. My mechanic, Mike,

has his own garage, where he is the sole mechanic (unless one of his

buddies comes in to work on their own vehicles). Whenever you go to

his shop, there are always a few of his buddies hanging out or waiting

in line to get their car worked on. I can just show up unannounced on

a Saturday morning and get my oil changed. I sit and chat with Mike

and whoever is around while I wait my turn. Today was no different. I

showed up, but found that he had a sign on his door saying "Due to

customers lack of payment, this shop is CLOSED." Oh shit. This is the

only guy I trust with my car!!! Turns out the shop is not closed.

Well, at least not for us trusted customers. Mike is such a nice guy

that he ends up getting screwed over constantly when it comes to

payment. His rates are low and he'll help out anyone. With another

recent strings of getting screwed over, he put up the sign. Not

knowing what to expect, I still went in and it was life as usual

behind the door.

One of the regular guys, Frank, was there for Mike to repair his truck

as well as another guy with a Hummer. The four of us chatted for

awhile until the Hummer guy had to leave. Not long after, another

regular guy walked in. He confuses me to no end. He has an MBA, drives

a BMW, is Indian, and is hanging out with us rednecks at the

mechanic's garage. Today he brought wine for us all to enjoy. Ok. I'm

game! Of course we had wine glasses in this dirty automotive garage

but no corkscrew so we used an actual screw and a pair of pliers to

open the bottle. Klassy.

Mike took Frank's car for a test drive leaving Frank, Crazy Indian Guy

(I can't remember his name now of course), and I at the shop. We are

talking and enjoying the wine when Crazy Indian Guy asks if we ever go

into chatrooms. Uh what? I haven't been active in the "chat room

scene" since like freshman year of college. So CIG goes to Mike's

computer and pulls up an Indian Erotic chat room. Now things are

getting interesting. While hanging out with the guys at the shop, it's

not the first time I've been subjected to seeing scantily clad ladies

on the computer or calendar or whatever. Apparently 66 year old CIG is

one of the main chatters in this room. And there are a handful of

women on there that are "madly in love with him." They want to come to

the U.S. - not too hard to figure that one out. But he is all serious

about this room. He won't give out personal information and gets upset

when others want sex talk. Ummm, then WHY ARE YOU IN AN EROTIC CHAT

ROOM? He claims there aren't any "general" rooms for Indians so this

erotic chat room has become a sort of general chat. After a few

minutes of him chatting, he decided that I must talk to the room since

I am a girl. I could tell by his insistent tone that this was going to

happen no matter what. I made Frank think of things to write while I

typed. No one was really interacting with each other and the language

was less intelligible than most chat rooms. It was at that time that I

stepped out of my body and looked down at the room, wondering how on

earth I ended up chilling in my mechanic's garage, drinking wine, and

chatting in an Indian Erotic chat room.

I'm pretty sure CIG is selling me into an arranged marriage. Frank

called me on the way home to tell me to hold out for a good selling