Every once in a while I (like most of us, I'm sure) find a flier underneath the windshield wiper of my car. I never, ever notice it until I'm in my car and about to drive away. Thus begins the awkward process of rolling down the window, turning the windshield wipers on, and hoping that they will push the flyer close enough to my outstretched hand that I can grab it. If I have to get out of the car to get the flier my day - and sometimes my entire week - is officially ruined.
How these fliers get onto my car I have never been able to ascertain. Someone - or something - is responsible, but remains elusive.
- Or, anyway, remained elusive.
On Thursday (the same day I returned to the record store to sort out the Kanye Debacle) I was walking to my car and I saw her.
The Flier Girl.
I saw her; and she was hot.
Case closed.
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