Revenge of the crazypantses

Okay, for real, what’s with all the crazy people who are infesting my life lately? It’s like I’m a magnet and they’re iron filings.

A moment ago, I was in the bathroom here at work and some woman tried to open my stall. No big deal, I have short legs. She probably couldn’t see that someone was in there, right? Okay, fine, but then she kept tugging on the door, and when that didn’t work, she put her eye to the crack between the door and the frame and looked at me. I would have said something, but I was too flabbergasted. She was unruffled however; she just said, “Oh, sorry about that” and looked in for another minute before wandering down the row to an open stall.

I know I’m attractive and all, but I don’t think sitting on the toilet is my best look. Then again, it takes all kinds.


With apologies to Dorothy Parker

Me: “‘I like to have a martini; Two, at the very most. Three, I’m under the table; Four, I…'”

Meg: “Fall down and crack open my goddamn head on the floor of Lucky’s Lounge and wind up with four stitches in my eyebrow?”

Me: “Um, yes.”

Meg: “Hey, one for each martini!”

Me: “Um, yes.”