I give up. I have absolutely no idea what attracts you anymore.
On this particular Sunday, I was suffering from both a slight hangover and a headbangover, and was certainly not at my best. Walking down Bloor, on my way to water a friend's plants while he was out of town, I felt pretty invisible. Apparently not. Who knew that the combination of metal t-shirt, floor-length skirt, x-tra large coffee in hand, and makeup-less face would be such a draw to you?
I am not sure what exactly you said to me -- it sounded a lot like "GrrrAUWwwwAHHH TITS RAWrgggg." All I could do in response was throw my hands over my head in defeat. If there was something about the dark circles under my eyes that made you think I would in any way respond favourably to your overtures, there is really nothing more I can do.
Labels: Anger Management, Open Letters to Late Capitalist Society
