As my insides melt and turn to mush while my glass plugs burn my earlobes the second I step outside, I can't help but hate this state. And everyone in it.
As good as life is finally going for me, I get the displeasure of dealing with people from all walks of life in my second, less lucrative retail job. From the hair neophytes to leather skinned, melon chested women studying the zen of the middle age crisis. The heat makes me cranky.
Hearing comments like, "You're so pretty, why would you do that to yourself", in regards to my multiple accoutrements...to which I usually reply, "I think I'm still pretty". Or my favorite, "I'll pray for you." Why is it that only the ignorami seem to be the ones to talk to me?
Another undesirable side effect of the heat: I don't make much sense. Good luck trying to decipher this weeks ramblings.
No comments:
Post a Comment