The ongoing saga of my nose

Have I mentioned how cool my life is these days? I am blogging again from a little café at 41st and Dunbar, sipping on another cappuccino. It’s good to be me. I woke up a bit later than I wanted to today unfortunately. I had errands to run! Important, necessary errands. Like getting my shoes re-soled, getting produce, going to Rogers to get some movies, chatting with L on the way down there, plus a 2pm appointment to get my nose piercing adjusted. I have been waiting for this appointment for a month because, if you have seen my piercing, you will note that the “coil” dangles down in my nostril and it looks… well, it looks kind of like there is something hanging out of my nose. So I hop in my car for my appointment, hoping that I get the same guy (we’ll call him B) for my follow up visit. I showed up and score! B was there. He kind of gave me the once over and a sly smile (okay, this was likely all in my head) and asked me how it was going. I said, “it’ll be going a lot better once we’re behind closed doors” and then I winked. Right, what I really said was “uh, good. Yeah. How are you?” as I surreptitiously checked for a wedding ring. So we go back to the little office and I’m checking him out rather unabashedly as he turns to put on his surgical gloves. And then does a little poking and prodding (in my nose, readers, in my nose) and says I have to wait another month to get it adjusted! What? I was so looking forward to getting the coil adjusted so it was no longer visible. As well as lying flat on my back while he gently ministered to my nostril… sigh. I have to wait another month. But on the plus side I guess I get to see him one final time. One last time to stare longingly at him and give offer monosyllabic answers to his questions and blush furiously for no apparent reason. I am suave. Of course I’m not his type, I think I have mentioned those strange ear stretching rings he has, and the fact that he probably only weighs an additional 20 pounds than me. And the tattoos (which are hot). I should have re-evaluated my outfit too; he doesn’t appear to be the type that would go for girls wearing GAP chords, Jacob tops with Mexx jackets, trundling along with their fashionably oversized purses (with their laptops stowed in the trunk of their Honda Civics, no less). But what I lacked in the “cool” department I made up with my lack of conversational abilities and my furtive, anxious eye-darting. Sweet. All I am missing is sweaty palms and a stutter. Ah well, I have a month to somehow develop some form of self assuredness.