…
…
…done?
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…now? Yes? Sweet.
How I like to think I look when I’m walking:
How I actually look:
Fun fact: I tend to sweat more from the right armpit. Refer to drawing.
Today as I was making my way down a busy city street I found myself becoming more and more frustrated that every time someone was walking towards me in the opposite direction, I was always the person who moved out of the way. Not once did I do the awkward dance of politeness where you go to move out of their way just as they go to move out of yours, but you keep moving in the same direction and it’s amusing and uncomfortable and you try to break the tension by making out with and/or groping them but then they just call for help and it becomes even more awkward.
My frustration boiled over, however, when I found myself about to collide with this individual:
Please note: Tail and devil horns may or MAY NOT have been present at the time. You weren’t there. Don’t tell me what I saw.
What I thought, now having been forced off the footpath and on to the road:
What I actually did: Kept walking while looking mildly annoyed.
All I’m saying is, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? WHO SAYS THAT TO A STRANGER ON THE STREET? WHO THINKS THEY’RE SO IMPORTANT THEY CAN DIRECT FOOT TRAFFIC? I know you think you’re sOOper busy, Miss (I’ll go ahead and assume you’re single) Business-Lady with your fancy clothes and your big hair, but other people have places to be, too. Maybe that girl you gave attitude to on the street today had been up since 4am and was very unfit and not coping with the heat and had a river of sweat running between her boobs and just wanted to get to the train station so she could go home and have a chicken sammich.
Then I got home and had a chicken sammich.
