Kfed Up.

The littlest things in life can make me feel wealthy, like walking into a CVS after paying for my own oil change (not at CVS), my head held high, bringing whichever energy drink and greeting card I feel like straight up to the counter and paying for it with my hard-earned credit card.

So, I parked my clean car (a rarity for my car to be any color but "dirt") and sauntered toward the pharmacy in my summer dress (a little fancy for West Fort Worth). I think I had just finished replying to a text message when "Kfed" came limping out of the drugstore with his walk o' attitude. I could feel his eyes scanning me as though I were his own personal malt liquor aisle. I immediately decided I should've worn a longer dress, as this particular liquor was on reserve and not necessarily on the menu. I also applauded my inner self for just saying "no" to that Twinkie at the office. It was paying off. I mean, creepy or not, I was getting attention.

We passed one another. The inner battle of "Gross, stop looking at me" and "I must look extraordinary" was over. Phew. But he tossed a grenade back over his shoulder and hit me with a subtle, but direct, "Mmmmmm." Ouch.

It's not that these types of cats are unusual. One may throw one's high heel and hit an "mmmmm" guy. But it makes me wonder: Does it ever work for him? And if it does, does it only work on particular types of women? And if so, do I need a makeover? Is there some soul searching I should be doing based on this incident?

I haven't found the answer, but I just want to say that if you're an "mmmmm" guy, please stop and consider the following:

A. It won't work.

B. If it does work, you're making yourself a victim of a pretty trashy next few moments/years/babymama dramas.

C. If it doesn't work, you're making the victim of your disgusting display of auditory debauchery a bit bewildered and perhaps even disgusted, because, after all, she probably had dignity before she walked into the CVS, and now she's wondering if maybe her bra strap was showing or if she somehow gave off the impression that she liked the wife beater/boxer short scheme.

Moral of the story is, next time I need a greeting card, I'm wearing a Laura Ingles Wilder dress and heading to the Hallmark store. That's my grenade. Quite the warrior, huh?