Tis the Season to be an Asshole

I was wandering home from my company holiday party last night in search of a cab. Well, let's be honest, I was in search of munchies, and then a cab, but I certainly did not want to embark on the long ride home without some sort of sustenance. I mean I live in Brooklyn for God's sake. It's like traveling to a foreign, faraway land.

I was sort of hoping Tisserie on 17th Street was still open, but no such luck..as I just about gave up on both the food AND the cab, I found myself eyeing Maoz.

I've seen this place a bunch of times, but never gone in. From what I could tell, its a Felafel joint that is sort of like Quiznos, with a fixin's bar that rivals the salad bar at Outback Steakhouse..not that I have ever been in an Outback Steakhouse, but I imagine that is has a kickass salad bar. You know what I mean.

I waited on line, completely oblivious to who or what was around me. I had a gym bag and my usual giant work bag slung over my shoulder. I hummed to myself, drunk as can be, I might have even been swaying a little, who the hell knows. I felt my gym bag jiggle. Then again. And yet again.

It finally dawned on me that my gym bag was being punched. I followed the movement and found myself staring into the eyes of a very unattractive, probably lonely, angry woman, who looked about 5O due to her pinched up constipation face, but was probably closer to my age.

I asked her why she was punching my bag, and she told me it was because I kept banging her with it.

Now, mind you, I probably was being a little unaware of my surroundings, and I don't doubt that my bag hit her, but A} all she had to do was step back a foot and saved herself a lot of aggravation or B} tap me on the shoulder politely and ask me to please chill out.

So I told her that. Very nicely, probably slurring my words, maybe I swayed a little, maybe I didn't. Again, who the hell knows. She looked at me as if I were insane, and kept repeating over and over, that I was banging into her with my bag, and I needed to stop. I finally couldn't listen to her anymore, and I started yelling "shut the fuck up! shut the fuck up!" {I am the QUEEN of snappy comebacks, let me tell you}. She replied, "You NEED to control your BODY" and to that, I shrieked "YOU NEED TO CONTROL YOUR EMOTIONS. ASSHOLE!"

At this point, there was a line behind us, and people were starting to snicker. I turned to the front of the store and waited patiently for my felafel. I could hear the asshole muttering to herself. She just wouldn't let it go.

Seconds later, I got my food, twirled around on my heel, and managed to whack the bitch with my bag. Hard.

I ran like hell and didn't look back. This girl ain't stupid!

Apparently, the Summers Eve Isn't Working

After a huge binge purchase of bulk Easter candy at Eckards in Union Square--Robins Eggs, peppermint patties, and Cadbury Creme Eggs, if you MUST know--I bolted for the 4 train so I could get to my swim class in park slope. As always, Union Square was bustling with activity and people yelling, which I always seem to avoid without incident.

Not tonight, apparently.

A guy standing outside the subway stop was yelling out "Do you like rap? Do you like reggae?"

My answer to that would be no, and no. But I don't talk to strangers. And I was in a hurry.

Instead of targeting the next innocent bystander, he decided to go all apeshit on my ass.

"Racism will come back and get you" he pointed a finger at me {he was a black man}

{I guess ignoring strange men on the street who are yelling in my face means that I hate people of color?}

"Your life must be hell," he continued.

{Yes, I'm a miserable bitch. Thanks for noticing.}

"Your pussy must smell like..."

Whoa whoa whoa now. Why you gotta bring up the pussy? I mean, seriously dude, what did my pussy ever do to you?

I'm not really sure what he was going to say it smelled like, as I was halfway down the stairs at that point. And honestly, he was probably right. It had been a long day. I'd been to the gym. I needed a fucking shower. My vaginal area wasn't at its finest, I imagine.

Kudos to the misogynist for being so observant.

I guess I'll take my racist, rancid cunt to bed now.