Happy fucking Cinco de Mayo.

So it's not technically the 5th anymore but who am I to deny you of holiday well-wishes?

I have decided that I am not cutting my hair until I am published in a magazine. Hopefully, this will motivate me to get off my ass and write, for fuck's sake.

I'm well overdue for a trim right now and it will only get worse. Factoring in humidity, today was one hundred degrees and I was suffering something awful. I was standing in the bathroom w/a razor in one hand and garbage bag in the other, poised to chop all my hair off and maybe feel some relief from the heat. That is when I decided to wait until I'm published.

This will work. I hate hair. I take out all my frustrations on my hair. If it's not short, I'm miserable. The sun feels hotter, my head feels heavier and I look like a geek. This had better work, damnit.

Anyhoo, I had a kind of creepy experience tonight.

My friend and I were at the corner store buying some cigarettes when this guy comes in. He gets in line behind us and starts making all these dumbass jokes about stupid things. Nothing hateful or derogatory, just cheesy. We gave him a few tight-lipped smiles and continued w/our conversation.

Then he starts making comments about us and the things we're doing, like some kind of annoying as fuck peanut gallery. He asks about our preferred cigarette brand and if Dorals are smooth (the hell? They're 2.50 a pack. Draw your own conclusions, Skeezy).

By this time, my friend was waiting by the door and I'm hugging the counter trying to get away from his gross invasion of my personal space. I have my ID out, since if you ask your regular citizen, I'm really 16 and he starts trying to look at it. He said he wanted to check out the picture. I kept my thumb over my address and last name, but I still felt a little freaked. Thankfully, the clerk didn't care about checking my ID, so I shoved it back in my pocket, grabbed my smokes and ran out of the store.

You know how some people just make you feel really scared? That guy is their king.

We got back to the car and my friend almost took out a guy on crutches as she peeled out of the parking lot. I thanked her for not leaving me as soon as she got her cigarettes and she said she wouldn't have even considered it. She asked me if we had mentioned our plans while he was standing in line and I told her we hadn't.

Then we both shuddered.

It's funny how a seemingly friendly man at a store at night makes us act like that. Actually, no. It's not funny. It's fucking sad and maddening that we have to be on guard all the time. Like we're prey. Like every man has the potential to hurt us. I hate hate hate it, but the statistics.... And the stories....

God, I don't know.

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