An Open Letter

Dear Creepy Middle-aged Guy hanging out at the bowling alley arcade at 4:00 in the afternoon,

I walked into the entrance of the closet-sized arcade in this small-town bowling alley, and I'm pretty sure you pulled the simultaneous wink, nod, with a forward-head-thrust move on me, which, last time I checked, translated loosely as, [insert Joey Tribbiani voice] "How you doin'?"

Which, fine, thanks for asking, but if I interpreted your body language correctly (and kudos on not letting go of your joystick), the answer is: I'm not interested. Here's how not interested I am:

a) I am herding not one, not two, but three children under the age of 8 through the arcade to find the non-violent, non-crime, non-hooker games. Really? Do you really think that is the best time to lay that little beauty of a look on me? At least wait till I set the kids up on Crime-Fighter Clown-Killers IV: I Loves Me Some Ho's, they're distracted, and we can hit the lounge for a drink and a smoke.

b) Thanks for the compliment, but if I wanted to hang out with Guys Who Still Live In Their Mother's Basement Past the Age of 42, I would've married one of my ex-boyfriends instead of the Prince I've got. (Who, for the record, only lived in his parent's basement briefly while in college. Maybe a few months. Did I mention he was in college? That's the only time that scenario is even remotely acceptable.)

c) You need a new belt, your pants are falling down. Also, I've got two words for you: Benzoyl Peroxide.

d) You might want to lay off the bean dip before hitting on the local MILFs.

e) Next time you're surfing the internets for some unspeakably frightening websites, check out this cool site called "monster.com." It's all about monsters...oooooo! Monsters! You'll thank me later.

Best regards,
Guwi

ps: If this place ever installs a Lady Pac-Man, forget all of the above, because IT IS ON, BROTHER.