The peppermint schnapps is really a crucial part of this equation. It's sort of like a float, because the ice-cream is now floating. I am less tactful than usual when deleting spammers. Note the following:
[info]ass_stepler) wrote in [info]kittenhate,
@ 2005-08-11 02:31:00
i'm newbie here
i just want to show u my new site with links to my favourite pay sites
what do u think about it
please if u like it leave a comment
this is not spam, i just want to know which sites do u like more
Hi, twit! Your ass is so reported for spamming! Hint: saying a fire truck is a tricycle doesn't make it so. Similarly, you're a spammer. You can't spell either.
The grocery store does not have the high-lighters that I require for work. I pout, even though I will survive a few days without yellow in that particular style. I pout mightily.
It seems that somewhere between this morning and tonight, I just got hit with "A Cup of Time" bunnies again. I'm not entirely sure what-all is going on with that universe, but Dolores (the Original Character who is in no way Prof. Umbr
My nail polish is all chipped. I should renew it before work tomorrow.
The first writing group meeting that I ran, officially, went surprisingly smoothly. (Or maybe that was the peppermint schnapps poured liberally over, onto, and into my pint of the ice cream? Because that was excellently smooth; I recommend it with all good cheer!)
There was a rather potentially creepy incident in the parking lot of the supermarket. In the supermarket, I'd seen someone wearing a Star Wars T-shirt, a man the mid-to-late 30s/early-to-mid 40s range. I nodded cheerily to him as we passed on separate shopping errands. No words exchanged. Fast-forward some minutes, and I'm out in the parking lot headed home. A truck pulls close enough to make me nervous. "Would you give me your phone number?" this same fellow inquires.
I gape. "...No," I say, because there's really no other answer that a sensible girl gives at this juncture.
I manage to utter some sort of negative, and the rather stymied fanboy and his truck go off about their business. I watch the vehicle drive away and make sure it doesn't lurk somewhere nearby before going actually home. On the one hand, I'm flattered that people find me attractive on the strength of my appearance. On the other hand ... um? On the gripping hand, the sanctity of my phone number remains intact, and I wasn't followed home.
It might have been different had he asked me for an e-mail address, and had the circumstances been better-lit and better-chaperoned. Even though I'm very, very bonded, and very, very not interested in creating new relationships.