Jiffy Lube

Typically roll to work looking not so cute. This is a fact of life. In the middle of the night who really cares, right? The other night was looking maybe a bit worse than usual. Took a nap. Rolled outta bed. Went to work. No makeup. Hair a disaster. Quite possibly pillow marks still on the side of my face. Come to work. Two other women 'bout my age there behind the desk. Some loser guy standing at the counter obviously trying to work his moves. Convo goes like this:
Male specimen (To #1): "I like your eye makeup. You have great eyes."
#1: "Ummm...thanks."
Male specimen (To #2): "Your hair looks nice like that. And those earrings are pretty."
#2: "Ummm...thanks."
Male specimen looks to yours truly. Eyes up. Eyes down. Rest squarely on chest. Let's loose this little gem: "I really like your body." (Translation: You look a mess, but nice tits.)
Insert moment of silence here as #1 and #2 hold their breath waiting for male specimen to lose some teeth. (Quite possibly he didn't have a lot of those to spare in the first place.)
Yours truly: "Wow. Nice." I-will-not-hesitate-to-physically-hurt-you-if you-don't-get-away-from-me death stare.
Seeming to value his pathetic life male specimen slinks off.

This is when I realize perhaps would be time to do a bit of upkeep. In the last days have been facial-ed (think day spa, not porno), cut, colored, waxed.

Basically the point of this whole verbal vomit: I require more maintenance than most vehicles. And I'm ok with that.