Wednesday, May 9, 2007

an open letter to the sleazy man behind me at the deli

dear sleazy man,

just because you are wearing a suit and have your sunglasses on inside does not mean that i want you to stand alarmingly close to me while we are in line at the sandwich place at lunch time.

just because it is a gorgeous day and i am obviously sick from my death cold and thus buying a minestrone soup and apple juice does not mean that you can leer at me and slide so close to me that you might as well just jump into the back pocket of my pants and say in this horrifyingly wet voice "a little hot for soup, isn't it?" so that i fear that your spit is in my hair.

just because i said "oh, excuse me, please" as i tried to move away from the counter but barely could because you were attempting to claim my personal space as your own does not mean that you can put your hand on my arm as though to assist me in walking - something i do every day.

but DO note that i ground my heel into your shoe because you would not MOVE THE FRICK AWAY FROM ME when i tried to get my change from the cashier. MY SPACE IS NOT YOUR SPACE.

if you think i'm pretty, thank you. i appreciate that. i don't feel pretty because i have the death cold. which you now have all over you because you were in my personal bubble. enjoy it. i hope you two live happily ever after. however, if you wish to let me know that you find me attractive, why don't you do so in an acceptable manner. smile. say 'hello'. heck, say 'i think you're pretty'. do not, i repeat, DO NOT stand so close to me! listen to the police. sting repeated that phrase about 62 times in that song. don't stand so close to me. you are skeevy. you are obviously a wanker. if i see you again, i'm going to step onto your other foot with my heels and then push you in front of a bus.

you need help.

and i need a nap.

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