Scrambled or fried?
I've been egged.
Literally. Shell, yolk, albumen. The real deal.
I went for my run this morning, as usual. Sometimes if there are vultures hanging around, I give them a wave and then go on my merry way. Well, this morning, there was an angel-faced girl with long blonde hair standing on the sidewalk, and when she waved me over, I didn't think anything of it. I thought maybe she needed directions or something. She looked like she was about seventeen and had the sweetest smile but still managed to look a little lost.
"Are you Will Porter?" she asked when I got a little closer. That should have given me pause, but I said I was and asked if I could help her with something.
Have you ever wondered if you're too trusting? I never did. Until today.
Anyway, as soon as I asked if I could help her with something (and actually paid attention to the fact that her hands were behind her back), she threw an egg at my chest. I was so shocked, I just stood there, looking down and wondering what the hell just happened, and then she nailed me in the head, screaming something about me being a homewrecker and turning Orli gay. (There were a few choice words in there condemning my sexuality, commenting on my oral sex skills and casting dispersions on my mother's character.) Before she could throw another one, a photographer actually came over and grabbed her (while another one clicked away). He asked if I wanted him to call 9-1-1 and have her arrested for battery, and then I started laughing. I mean, add some flour and I really would be pretty damn battered.
I declined his offer and just told him to let her go once I was back inside. I did tell her I'd call the cops if she damaged my mom's property, though. She kept yelling at me as I walked back to the house and I still have no clue if she was a mental case or just an average seventeen year-old girl. Fine line.
I hate to be one of those people who claim to not understand kids today, but I will never understand teenaged girls. I don't know if I ever want to, frankly. Most of them, in my opinion, should come with a muzzle and a tether so their parents - if they even have parents and weren't spawned by some evil mall monster somewhere - can keep them secured (and silent) in the basement. I swear I'm not as pissed off as I was, and I'm actually laughing as I type this, but, seriously, from the age of 12 to about 20, girls should be sent away somewhere. Not all. Just most.
Now, it could have been worse. It was just eggs and no blood was shed. I'm squeaky clean, the clothes are in the laundry, and I think the egg might have made my hair a little softer. But, honestly, what a waste of perfectly good food.
Literally. Shell, yolk, albumen. The real deal.
I went for my run this morning, as usual. Sometimes if there are vultures hanging around, I give them a wave and then go on my merry way. Well, this morning, there was an angel-faced girl with long blonde hair standing on the sidewalk, and when she waved me over, I didn't think anything of it. I thought maybe she needed directions or something. She looked like she was about seventeen and had the sweetest smile but still managed to look a little lost.
"Are you Will Porter?" she asked when I got a little closer. That should have given me pause, but I said I was and asked if I could help her with something.
Have you ever wondered if you're too trusting? I never did. Until today.
Anyway, as soon as I asked if I could help her with something (and actually paid attention to the fact that her hands were behind her back), she threw an egg at my chest. I was so shocked, I just stood there, looking down and wondering what the hell just happened, and then she nailed me in the head, screaming something about me being a homewrecker and turning Orli gay. (There were a few choice words in there condemning my sexuality, commenting on my oral sex skills and casting dispersions on my mother's character.) Before she could throw another one, a photographer actually came over and grabbed her (while another one clicked away). He asked if I wanted him to call 9-1-1 and have her arrested for battery, and then I started laughing. I mean, add some flour and I really would be pretty damn battered.
I declined his offer and just told him to let her go once I was back inside. I did tell her I'd call the cops if she damaged my mom's property, though. She kept yelling at me as I walked back to the house and I still have no clue if she was a mental case or just an average seventeen year-old girl. Fine line.
I hate to be one of those people who claim to not understand kids today, but I will never understand teenaged girls. I don't know if I ever want to, frankly. Most of them, in my opinion, should come with a muzzle and a tether so their parents - if they even have parents and weren't spawned by some evil mall monster somewhere - can keep them secured (and silent) in the basement. I swear I'm not as pissed off as I was, and I'm actually laughing as I type this, but, seriously, from the age of 12 to about 20, girls should be sent away somewhere. Not all. Just most.
Now, it could have been worse. It was just eggs and no blood was shed. I'm squeaky clean, the clothes are in the laundry, and I think the egg might have made my hair a little softer. But, honestly, what a waste of perfectly good food.