it seems as though with summer comes the inconsideration of space.
while the bustling streets of new york consistently antagonize my personal space issues, my encounters, as of late, have been absolutely infuriating.
first of all, i don't enjoy strangers touching me. if i know you AND thoroughly enjoy you, then yes, i am a touchy-feely person. if you do not meet these requirements, get the fuck away from me. yes, this means you patrons of corner bistro, subway commuters, and oblivious tourists. every where i go people are getting closer and closer with greater frequency which is encouraging an inclination to become a hermit with a hankering for booze.
if it were merely my personal space being attacked, i might be able to let it slide... after a few glasses, that is. however, when you are a dangerously inconsiderate motorist, i want to rip your fucking face off. let me set the scene: crossing the west side highway, trying to return home after a lovely stint of hudson river observation with my precious pooch. congested traffic, pedestrians are given the green light. i begin to walk, carrying the aforementioned pooch, and a van full of loud mouthed construction workers begins to drive towards me. i gesture (without the use of an individual finger), as if to say, "dude! what are you doing?!". they then begin to yell at me for giving them "attitude" and call me "fat ass". yes, i am aware of the size of my ass, but nevertheless, FUCK YOU. you were endangering MY life and you have the audacity to yell at me? no, sirs. ex-fucking-cuse you.
i close this rant with a brief letter of hope:
dear summer,
please tell your people to cease and desist. i don't want to be road-kill or an alcoholic.
love,
me
while the bustling streets of new york consistently antagonize my personal space issues, my encounters, as of late, have been absolutely infuriating.
first of all, i don't enjoy strangers touching me. if i know you AND thoroughly enjoy you, then yes, i am a touchy-feely person. if you do not meet these requirements, get the fuck away from me. yes, this means you patrons of corner bistro, subway commuters, and oblivious tourists. every where i go people are getting closer and closer with greater frequency which is encouraging an inclination to become a hermit with a hankering for booze.
if it were merely my personal space being attacked, i might be able to let it slide... after a few glasses, that is. however, when you are a dangerously inconsiderate motorist, i want to rip your fucking face off. let me set the scene: crossing the west side highway, trying to return home after a lovely stint of hudson river observation with my precious pooch. congested traffic, pedestrians are given the green light. i begin to walk, carrying the aforementioned pooch, and a van full of loud mouthed construction workers begins to drive towards me. i gesture (without the use of an individual finger), as if to say, "dude! what are you doing?!". they then begin to yell at me for giving them "attitude" and call me "fat ass". yes, i am aware of the size of my ass, but nevertheless, FUCK YOU. you were endangering MY life and you have the audacity to yell at me? no, sirs. ex-fucking-cuse you.
i close this rant with a brief letter of hope:
dear summer,
please tell your people to cease and desist. i don't want to be road-kill or an alcoholic.
love,
me
kellenthirteen:
that was just brilliant!!! : )