I always suspected it but never knew it. Diaryland is filled with creative genius. You bizatches have the best costume ideas. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check my guestbook.

Unfortunately, because I am such a freakshow, it was taking to long (e.g. - more than 5 minutes) for me to get responses - other than the person who wrote me and suggested I dress all in white and carry a rolled 20 dollar bill and tell people I'm a line and ask them if they want to do me (that was fucking brilliant, whoever you are) - and I ran out in search of ideas.

I got it. It's not that original but the way I am going to present it, will be. I'm going to be a fallen angel and I will have taken quite a fall from grace. It's going to be performance art.

Tell you later.

Let's discuss what the heck happened when I got into the taxi with my bags. So I get in the car and I'm like, "It smells like chocolate in here!"

The driver, who is somehow a white guy who kind of looks like Clapton and is in his late-30's/early 40's, tells me it was his coffee. Then he asks me what's in the bag?

My halloween costume, I told him. What are you going to be, he asked? A Fallen Angel, I reply.

Before I even knew what was happening, this guy says, "Really, then I should spank you. I'm old enough to spank you."

Huh? So I just laugh and say, "I should have seen that coming, guess I'll have to prepare for that kind of reaction..."

Nervous laughter. Because you know I'm just thinking Bone Collector at this point.

So then, he's asking where I'm going for Halloween. "All around," I say vaguely. He pushes it but I just say that I'm going to a party.

Then he says he has to work, but that he'd like to see me, so I say, "maybe you will. Maybe you'll pick me up - it could happen!"

THEN, he throws out, or we could go on a date. What the...how did this happen? I was so off-guard, I was just silent. This is a complete stranger and frankly, I can barely see his face. All I know is he drinks chocolate coffee. He asks for my number. I say, I don't give my number out, thinking I'm off the hook. But I don't even get that out, before he asks for my e-mail address.

"Come on, just your e-mail. Give me your e-mail."

I drew a blank. I literally couldn't think of any excuse in the book. So I give out my phantom account. The safe one with no information.

How does this happen to me? How? Why?? I had to get dropped off a block from my place and duck into a deli to make sure he didn't see where I lived.

Frogs once said that complete strangers just feel the need to talk to me, to connect with me. But this is like the sixth taxi driver to ask me out. Not counting the three limo drivers.

It's beyond strange. This is what I get for being 'Lil Cab Bitch. Thanks, Riot.

I need to start reconsidering forms of transport.

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