that last post i thought was posted already. blogger is a blip, and for something so simple is just a bit too wiry for my tastes.
today was one of those days where i had the giggles in all the places between my office and the train, but nowhere else. i hate answering phones because i hate talking to people when they want me for something, and i always have jobs answering phones and being fake. but then again, i am an actress.
as i was leaving my office today because i was sick of it, i pulled one of my favorite stunts.
i am leaving an hour later than usual. surely no one leaves work at 5 minutes after six. only people. so as the elevator departs from the 22nd floor and is zooming down, and feel and enjoy its emptiness and rip a nice ripe fart in the corner. i love farting in empty elevators, and then leaving, thinking, bye bye fart. you go run off and make friends.
of course 2 seconds and dancing and pants loosening enjoyment come to a screeching halt and the elevator car begins screeching to a halt on the 10th floor. so now i go to the other corner of the elevator and pray.
this little leprechaun walks in. actually it's an irish guy, about 5'8. he's irish because he's white and freckled and that works for me. he's also got a darling accent that's british but cuter, and one of those chins that irish people have, where you can perch and go fishing off of it. and of course, following that unspoken elevator ettiquite, he just walks straight to the corner opposite me: the fart corner.
God bless his heart, he didn't flinch. He didn't do the "who farted over there, yikes?" he just stood there. letting me be a lady and wishing me a good weekend when i wished him his. jesus christ superstar, i had to try to skip to the subway station trying not to look like a psycho giggling to myself.
maybe he likes farts.
maybe he thought he had done it.
maybe he giggled in the other direction.
fuck skechers. so pissed at them. i love their shoes and rave about them, but this "outlet" on steinway street is a bit of a "letdown" to be honest. the selection leaves a bit to be desired, but more importantly, the sale they CONSTANTLY have (buy one get next pair half off) was OFF when i went to buy shoes last week. i went in thursday, and they had finished the sale tuesday. "but that sale was going on forever."
"yeah, no one believed it when we said it was ending. i told all my friends," one of the four, interchangeable crinkle-haired shoe girls told me. "don't worry, it will come back."
it's okay lady. i'm not going to put up posters or anything.
and what the fuck do you know when i am walking home, BIG FUCKING SALE AT FUCKING SKECHERS: BUY ONE, GET ONE HALF OFF!!!
so the sale was off for what, a week? less? enough time for this poor ass bitch to buy a pair of shoes without a hole in them and not get another, much needed pair, for 20 bucks.
Fuck the fuck out of everyone. Cause thanks to Alanis Morrissette, I know this shit isn't even ironic.
at least my brain is working.
it seems like i can't be angry enough in this city. i can never be angry enough to keep up with how much i am being slighted in every imaginable way.