Pluck you and pick up
I used to see a lot of interesting things when I lived in West Hollywood. But when you mix creatives with gays, you are bound to see some great stuff. In Santa Barbara, when you mix stray hairs with a good sunrise, you get the perfect plucking storm. And then some.
My “it’s going to be a good day” barometer starts when my dog takes a massive crap. Today was no different until I turned down the beach path holding my poo bag and a noticed a guy leaning up against his truck’s side-view mirror. I starred for a while and realized he was holding a pair of tweezers and going at his eyebrows with the good morning light. He needed some serious bushwhacking otherwise, he should of just braided his eyebrows or twisted them to rasta dreads and called himself a caterpillar.
As I practiced sit-stays and stand-stays with Dixie, we continued to pass joggers and other dog walkers. Things got interesting when we got to the second parking lot. A guy was in his sedan with his seat reclined all the way down, but his head was bobbing up to look for people. Alas, since I was the only person around, I realized by his shoulder and arm motions that he was beating off and looking at me. Or maybe Dixie was getting him off, but one of us was definitely his type. I’m going to count this public display of affection as our first date in the new year.
When we rounded back around, Dixie presented me with another steaming pile which I tossed in the trash right next to the plucker’s truck. We jumped into the car and I immediately yanked on the rear view to check my eyebrows. No stray hairs, so I should have plenty of time to masturbate before work.