I'm a lucky girl. I have sooooo many male admirers. Don't hate. I bet you have them, too. You just don't acknowledge them and treat them right the way I do. And now, without further ado, my favorite pickup lines from homeless men/security guards/bike messengers/janitors/CVS cashiers...
"Where's the marching band?"
"'Scuse me?"
"How you gonna have a pretty girl parade without a marching band?"
"You going to a club dressed like that? It's cold out. Your momma would be ashamed. Either go upstairs and put more clothes on, or come home with me and take them all off."
"You are soooo beautiful." (This one wouldn't be bad, except I saw this guy in several different places all over Northwest. I swear he remembers me, because he always follows me for about five minutes, repeating it over and over).
"lkajflakfdjafdiudjlkvavkjoiauwgraygvnboefdudfiufj3u4297u98tnv!!!!" (This one is the crazy guy with the trumpet at the corner of 18th and H st NW. He always yells something at me when I get off the 32 bus, but I turn up my iPod so I can't hear him.)
And my personal favorite never said a word. While walking through McPherson Square, just two blocks shy of the White House, a bike messenger passed by, honked my left breast as if it were a dog toy, turned around and smiled at me before slamming headfirst into a light pole. There is justice in the world.
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