Why I hate people (a continuing series...)

[illusionofjoy]

I was standing at the bus stop, waiting for my ride to see joi_division this afternoon, reading this week's City Paper. It was 94 degrees outside - a sunny, dry heat - and I was dressed in my usual manner: all in black, including the trenchcoat.

The woman walking down the hill in my direction was a skinny thing with pale greyish-blue skin and a feathery blond mess of hair that had grown no further than her chin. She was wearing a pair of purple Buggles-style glasses, a very colourful Tex-Mex patterned tank top, a white skirt that ended in fringe above her knees and a pair of bright red "Wonder Woman"-style go-go boots. Despite the fact that I had barely given her a glance and was obviously engrossed in my alternative news weekly, this fashion disaster decided to speak to me regardless.

"You must be hot in that," she exclaimed as if the light had light flickered on in the attic.

"No," I replied, not even looking up from my paper.

"Oh come on...are you sure? You've gotta be hot in that!"

"No, I'm not," I said again, wanting to get back to Dan Savage's latest column. This uninvited and dim-witted eyesore was preventing me from reading about foot fetishists.

She spent about five seconds examining me as if I were a particularly interesting skin blemish before walking away exclaiming, "you're crazy!"

"You're not inhabiting my body," I called after her. Indeed if she had been, she wouldn't have even broken a sweat by this point. Furthermore, she wouldn't have been asking stupid questions to strangers about their choice of clothing. Some people really need to learn to mind their own business and that how they feel in a given circumstance is not how everyone else will feel.