I've lost it. My mojo, that is. I used to have it. I used to carry it with me wherever I went. Now-a-days, it's like searching for the Lost City of Atlantis. I see trace evidence of it, but can't seem to pinpoint the actual location.
And I really need my mojo. Last night it would have came in real handy. I was at a Fourth of July celebration. I am standing in line, waiting for a greasy sand which that promised long hours of heartburn, when a rather handsome gentlemen spoke to me. I looked over my shoulder to see who he was addressing. He spoke again, and I gave him my best smile. Unfortunately, I ended up looking constipated. If I'd had my mojo, that would never had happened.
This past week, I could have really went far with my mojo firmly in hand. I ran into a guy that I've had a crush on for years now. He's one of those men you admire from afar. You know the type: tall, handsome man with the type of grin that makes the panties melt off. He has big brown eyes. The kind that look at you and make you contemplate how gifted your children will be. Whenever I've seen him date, it's usually with the leggy, gorgeous types. I don't think he'd go for me. I still haven't mastered the whole walking without tripping over dead air thing.
But, if I'd had my mojo, I wouldn't care about any of that. With my mojo, I would have walked up to him, cocked my head to one side, and grinned a fabulous grin that said, "Hey there! Yeah, I know, you want me." Instead, I mumbled something and gave him my famous I-ate-something-that-now-is-making-my-stomach-bubble look. Not very impressive.
I was thinking about calling the police and have them search for my mojo. Perhaps they could issue a psuedo-Amber alert for it. Maybe even telecast a public service announcement. I could have George Clooney star in it.
"Hello. I'm George Clooney. You may know me as the super sexy doctor from ER. Right now, I want to talk to you about a serious matter. You see, this young lady has lost her mojo. Mojo is important to all of us. Without it, we are unable to date. Which means, we are unable to have sex. Please, help this single mother of two find her mojo. No one wants her to become an old hag that collects cats. Think of her children. Thank you for your time."
I think I'll give George a call....