There once was a little girl named Whit
Who was only little for a little bit
She grew & grew, oh how she grew up so fast!
She graduated into the saskwatch elite as years passed
While tiny people look up in disgust
They realize that sky high heels are a must
Miniature women of Jewish decent are not in the fan club
It could be the confusion with them and a tree stub
Although there is so much more of this girl to dislike
It deems unnecessary when you witness her on a bike
Why not try smiling, a far cry from a frown
And rest assured, the circus is not in town.
I sat on the subway, minding my business, going to work, with my purse on my lap and workout bag on the seat next to me. On walks a woman (need I even say she barely made the cut for rides at Disneyland. I was taller than her sitting down...) who was older, so of course I move my workout bag onto my lap so she may sit down. Polite, right? Apparently she drank a jar of pickle juice for breakfast because began to yell at me, "Scoot ova'! That's disgusting! I don't wanna sit where your filthy bag was. You prowbly set it in dawg poop and gum... you sit there and clean up your own pants!" Now I've never been a drug abuser, but some might same my "laid-back" attitude in life is that of a user of the canibus- it takes a lot to get me worked up. So of course all I could do is laugh, along with everyone around us. She then proceeds to yell at the man sitting across from us who was getting a kick out of the situation... "You think this is funny asshole? Well how funny is it when you have to wipe dawg shit off the back of your pants, huh?" That naturally made him laugh even harder, which encouraged her even more. I did not say a word, just scooted ova'. (Why do you think I put my bag on the seat in the first place?!)
My encounter of a second kind (literally) was in Fed Ex. When I entered the establishment, a woman at the desk was demanding to speak to a manager and for a stack of complaint forms. Apparently the address she provided (on Mars) was not legit and the woman working A. was a sista' who's bad side I would not enjoy being on and B. Hadn't eaten in hours so her demeanor was that of a grizzly coming out of hibernation. I have to give it to these little New York nuggets, they are fighters and will not back down. Just like their brainless miniature poodles. A delivery man finally came in and explained where he was going to insert his foot if she did not leave the premises. In a furious huff she stormed out, shaking papers in bystander's faces, screaming profanities all the way out the door. In the mean time, I was filling out a mailing label, chuckling to myself, when I heard a very familiar voice. It was unmistakable- it was the tenor from high school choir and long time friend who is a photographer in the city. Maybe it really is a "small" world...
No comments:
Post a Comment