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February 20, 2007

1048: PWNED!

Walking to the office today, I found myself having to deal with the kind of crap most city-dwelling girls have to face every day; the kind of harassment from guys that makes you wish you carried a Taser. Obviously, in my long wool coat, scarf, and hat, I was totally ASKING FOR IT.*

As if working on a national holiday (Monday) weren't enough, I had to get stopped by the fool handing out freebie newspapers at my subway stop so that he could forcibly comment on said hat. You know, because it's not a compliment if it doesn't make you uncomfortable and involve some invasion of your personal space. Being a beret (shut up!) it seems to invite unwanted attention for reasons that continue to escape me. Quoth the newspaper jerk: "Ooh la la! That's it, baby. YEAH! LOOKING GOOD!" Looking good, feeling warm -- that's me, fool! In all seriousness, the hat seems to earn me that sort of strangely aggressive and strangely... strange commentary at least once a week. What a naughty hat!

Get a new one? I would but despite the obvious downsides of wearing a beret in public, I've found that it's one of the best types of hats to wear if you're the kind of person who worries about his or her hair all the time -- which I am. Also, as doofy as I feel my hat is, it's way awesomer than what I see on other people's heads. I don't understand how girls my age get themselves dressed to the nines before heading out of the apartment and then stop... to put an inverted wool bucket on their skulls. WTF?

In all fairness, I'm not a hat aficionado; I leave all matters concerning hats to Liz. In any event, I seem to be sporting the SEXIEST CHAPEAU EVER!

Lucky me!

So... Tuesday morning... I'm headed to work in the aforementioned hat. I walk quickly, even more so when I notice in the distance some fool intent on bothering me. I stare straight ahead and never make eye contact.

I pretend not to hear a word that's said to me, although doing so requires me to fight the urge to claw another human being's face off with my bare hands. In my peripheral view, I see him staring straight at me with the crazed intensity of someone who is unquestionably looking for a slap.

I keep walking and, to my horror, find that he's joined me. He stares straight at me, talking all the while, and becomes increasingly angry with each passing second as I continue to ignore him. I don't pick up speed, I don't flinch, I don't do anything that would indicate I'm even aware of his existence.

He keeps up, annoyed, and decides he should get in my way. He begins to crowd my personal space in a way that makes me a bit nervous, not that I betray that at all; I just keep walking, eyes straight ahead, as he continues to bother me. Walking backwards with all his attention on me, he struggles to keep up with my already rapid pace along the sidewalk.

And then he slams right into a massive metal parking meter.

Girls: 1
Jerks: 0

* I'll save some of that venom for another post, another time.

Posted by ashley at February 20, 2007 03:37 PM

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