intersection

so i'm in the fairmont lobby, loitering & surfing, on my way back from a movie. guess who comes sauntering in, and positions herself in a direct line of sight, some 10 yards across the room. ladies & gentleman, we have a stalker!

while looking straight at me, she's perpetrating a conversation on her trashy-white-cingular-i-can't-afford-a-real-plan phone. it looks weird, forms a continuous visual streak with that bandage. a bit smaller footprint than the one you were sporting yesterday in court, isnt it? i was half expecting the obligatory neck brace. well done with the tearful abuse syndrome soliloquy. i got a little choked up too.

the same old uni--that fucking grotesque kookai tank (bottom line, you just can't pull them off honey--pls refer to 'Little Thai' chat. aka, "the last supper"), white pants that aren't nearly tight enough to perform the necessary lifting duties (so are they therefore too tight? epistimological dilemma here), flip-flops. really classy. tres attractif, V. you've come a long way, baby.

guess this confirms the current lack of a boyfriend (of any standards). sure V, a girl's gotta eat, but a guy's gotta respect himself in the morning. too bad you've been striking out. i feel for you.