Some things NEVER change

So, I have to admit that when I left Detroit and moved to LV, part of me was hoping that my new city would be peppered with debonair, dashing Prince Charmings who would sweep me off of my feet and into blissful oblivion instead of the toads I was used to dealing with in Detroit. I just knew that in this city of bling, there would be men for the pickin', ripe and ready for a cultured, sophisticated (yes, me) woman to charm.

So I went out. On Saturday night, I looked GREAT. My hair had managed to hold out until Monday until it went kaput, I had a nice new dress, good vacation jewerly, freshly pink pale pink paninted toes, my pearls (some of you will laugh at that) and even my SPANX. I was bad. Bangin. Hot. Sizzle. A dime, not a nickel.

And what happened? Nadda. Nil. Zero. Zilch. I chalked it up to beginner's bad luck.

Well tonight I was feeling like I needed to waste a few hours, so after I cooked and ate dinner I tossed on my workout clothes, fully intending to hit the treadmill. On my way there, I got a better idea. I decided to stop by Borders to see if there were any good books on clearance that I could use in my classroom. I looked a complete HOT mess. My hair was very puffy, and though curled, not the easy-breezy-covergirl I am used to. My eyemakeup was smudged and my mascara had left dark marks under my eyes. In short, I was not divadout.

So within five minutes of being in Borders, here comes a goober.

I mean damn.

And he was the prototype for goobers everywhere. Country, with a gold molar. He came in with 2 kids (which I noticed he let wander off while he tried to get his mack daddy on) and one of his goober boys. As I was trying to indulge in a little cultural intellectual stimulation, this fool wants to strike up a conversation. He even asked if he could conversate with me. Goober.

I tried to give him the cold shoulder. But, my Anti-Goober potion must not have been working because this fool KEPT talking. And talking. And talking.

Finally, he went away, leaving me to ponder the evening's events.

Let's follow simple logic: If A, then B.

If I look good,then nothing happens.
If I look hit,then goobers happen.

Can someone please solve the equation so that the end result is that "fine, dashing and charming" happen?

*M*