Monday, March 3, 2008

Hey You! Get Off Of My Cloud

Am I the only person out there with issues regarding “personal space”? I’ve just been noticing a lot lately that some people in lines just can’t seem to stand close enough to me. Maybe I'm exceptionally fragrant and lovely, I don't know. One guy the other day was practically inside my pants - in a non-vulgar sense. I know I’m fabulous but could you tone it down a little fella? My Thetons are overheating.


Then today I am in our quarter-empty cafeteria having a late-lunchtime sandwich and soda and looking out the window, when this rotund fellow comes over with his food, ignoring the twenty or so empty tables all around me, and says, “Can I sit with you since you’re on your own?” like he’s doing some enormous favor to the poor girl with no friends who is sitting in isolation because she obviously hasn't heard of deodorant or has The Cooties.

Um…listen fella, I am here on my own because I want to be. I could sit at my desk and chat to everyone while I eat, but I really kind of like spending one hour of the day by myself with my thoughts, my sandwich and the view, which doesn’t include you. Plus I have a messy sandwich full of tomato and condiments, I don’t need to be dripping it all over the table and my chin while you’re sitting there staring at me, freak-boy. I mean I’m a friendly, tolerant (yes really!), polite person but really.

There was this other time when I was on a crowded bus home and this fifty something, portly, mustache-sporting gentleman asked if he could have the seat next to me. “Sure, it’s free.” I said, because the bus was busy and the seat was empty, I mean I’m no seat hogger and it’s public domain and all.

I’d like to ask that gentleman, which part of “Sure, it’s free” translated as, “Hey fella, why don’t you take over three quarters of our double bench with your vast spread-open leggitude while you spend 45 minutes telling me the history of every, single building on Fifth Avenue that we pass on the way downtown, being sure to point out particular locations where various ex-girlfriends have lived or died, while making amazingly cheesy and unfunny jokes and nudging me at every punchline!”?

Which part of me looking out of the window in an effort to hint that, “I’m a little tired and would like to be left alone if you don’t mind” made you think I would possibly be interested in going for “pizza and some drinks” with you and your friend Kevin who still lives with his mom at 57?

I don't know. I'm just desirable I guess.