803-555-THEM: What's the penalty for murder in this state?
803-555-JIMJ: I don't know this number. Who are you?
803-555-THEM: Really? This is Tara. I guess I am that forgettable.
803-555-JIMJ: Next question: Who am I?
At that point, we established that no, we each did not know who the heck the other was, the established penalty for murder under SC law is boiling in grits, chocolate is NOT an acceptable substitute for grits, and I had an alibi for March 15th.
After another mildly frustrating day at work, I stopped off at Publix on the way home from work to get a few things. Ooh, parking spot next to really gorgeous girl loading groceries - snag. Turn off the engine, get out of the car, realize parking spot is, in fact, next to heartbrokenly sobbing into cellphone gorgeous girl loading groceries. There is really nothing useful you can do with an instinctive reflex to comfort/succor/defend/protect a heartbrokenly sobbing girl when you don't know her, she's on the phone, and returning her shopping cart to the corral. All you can really do is avert your eyes politely, walk by, and ruminate on how retarded it is to feel somehow guilty about overtly ignoring her. Awkward.
Then inside the store, at the steak display, I had to look around and make sure I didn't walk through some kind of fucked up stargate into Disneyworld, because goddamn if the stereotypical loudly chattering asshole eastern-europeans-of-indeterminate-origi
Fuck you world I am jumping in a hole and pulling it in after me a la Bugs Bunny. :: ASCII birdfinger ::