Living in the future?
I can't wait until commercial technology catches up with my needs. Remember in Doomsday where our heroine has an eye-implant that allows her to record everything that's happening? Well, right now, I wish I had that. That way, I could have inserted the expression the middleaged bitchy woman one table over gave me, instead of trying to explain it.
I mean, I'm not blind. Who looks over to someone minding their own business and makes a fishmouth expression? Downturned lips and disdainful snort. Wtf? I'm just sitting here with my computer. Either she hates Devotchka (my band t-shirt), apple products (my computer) or people wearing yoga pants in public. Either way, I would never do that.
Now, of course, I'm pretending to listen to music whilst listening to her conversation with her equally bitchy friend. I'm so glad I'm not that type of negative person. After all, they're spending their time bitching about other people and complaining about their lives. I would not bitch that much about other people if I believed home-nitted salmon-colored sweaters were acceptable to wear in public, or if my feet were that ugly. (Okay, now I did turn petty and awful. But seriously, she snorted at me even though I've done nothing to her.)
Interestingly, she has the feet of a 70-year old woman. Do you think that makes her incredibly unlucky in the feet department, or just the product of excellent plastic surgery?
I mean, I'm not blind. Who looks over to someone minding their own business and makes a fishmouth expression? Downturned lips and disdainful snort. Wtf? I'm just sitting here with my computer. Either she hates Devotchka (my band t-shirt), apple products (my computer) or people wearing yoga pants in public. Either way, I would never do that.
Now, of course, I'm pretending to listen to music whilst listening to her conversation with her equally bitchy friend. I'm so glad I'm not that type of negative person. After all, they're spending their time bitching about other people and complaining about their lives. I would not bitch that much about other people if I believed home-nitted salmon-colored sweaters were acceptable to wear in public, or if my feet were that ugly. (Okay, now I did turn petty and awful. But seriously, she snorted at me even though I've done nothing to her.)
Interestingly, she has the feet of a 70-year old woman. Do you think that makes her incredibly unlucky in the feet department, or just the product of excellent plastic surgery?