Monday, June 12, 2006

God, i really do not like hickeys.

I mean, maybe in a way they are kind of cute in that homage to the 1950s-getting-pinned-in-the-backseat-of-a-Chevy kind of way, but like pedal pushers I feel their time has come and gone.

I should also mention at this point that I get hickeys VERY easily. I mean if you look at my neck/clavicle region intently I will form a purplish spot. Never mind any kind of actual physical activity. As early as 14 years old I was putting a stop to that shit because even then I felt like a bruise on the leg is a badge of honor, but a bruise on the neck is a scarlet letter.

In any case, at my age it is ridiculous. Hello, I am 26 and have been with the same guy for 2.5 years. No one thinks a hickey is cute or interesting.

Hickeys are for the young, and the swingin'.

So imagine my dismay yesterday when I looked down at my neckline and saw a purplish bruise on my upper chest region. I was just sitting at my desk, minding my own business (read: checking my Myspace) when a faint violet something caught my eye.


And yet there it was, a hickey in plain sight at work. When I have no business hickey-ing it up in the office.

And I knew that there was no way it was what it looked like. I mean I knew.

So I ventured into the ladies room for further investigation only to come to the conclusion that the new purple eyeshadow I had tested on my lunch break must have found it's way from my finger to my neck when I fixed my necklace. So I hastily washed it off and returned to my desk, hoping no one thought I was hooching it up on my lunch break.

But you know I can't leave well enough alone.

So I ask my coworker David "Hey, did you just think I had a hicky?"

"What!?" he said, a little surprised.

"Did you see a hickey on my neck!?" I asked.

"Why would you have a hickey?" he asked.

My point exactly.

At least we are all on the same page.

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