Bananas go to law school, too!


Black Cloud of DOOM

Alright people, I feel like I have a Black Cloud of Bad Luck following me. It's true!

I'm walking home, minding my own buisness, listening to some jazzy tunes on my ipod. Some dude bumps into me and, because I have my ipod, I'm startled and confused. And not knowing what was going on, I just said, "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there." LIKE I'M ON GOD DAMN LEAVE IT TO BEAVER.

Anyway, he asks if I have a cigarette. Which I DO have, but I wasn't smoking at the time. I just carry them around in my satchel. So I'm rifling. And rifling. And I have to open a new pack. Which proves my previous point of NOT smoking.


So as I'm rifling, I realize that "Miss Efficient!" --- standing doesn't get me home as quickly as walking. So I'm like "Let's walk as I look."

As we're walking, he's all like "You's is beautiful, you's is pretty." Which I feign deafness and pretend not to hear.

So I finally find a cigarette and give it to him and I'm all please-just-go in my head. And, thankfully, he walks ahead of me. And I put my headphones back in.

And then I see him turn around and start to mouth crazy-man talk. I take my earphones out.

"Excuse me?
"What, baby, you didn't hear me?"
"Um, yea, I actually have no idea what you are talking about."
"I SAID, you wanna see something?"

DING DING DING. I went to college and have attended many a fraternity party. I know this line.

"Um, no, I'm fine."
"Come on baby, come on."
"It's an 8 and a half."

To which my internal "freak-o-larm" goes DING DING --- because I think he means gun. Gun = bad. Bad = death.

"You wanna see me play with it."

Freak-o-larm back to neutral. Is not talking about gun. It talking about his dirty dirty you-know-what.

Internal monologue: don'tlookdowndon'tlookdowndon'tlookdowndon'tlookdowndon'tlookdowndon'tlookdown

"No, no I don't"

"Why not, come on baby, it would make my night."

So blah blah, such nonsense continues on the ONLY DARK STREET IN MY HOMETOWN for two blocks. Sigh. I somehow get out of it by rationalizing "Listen, I was nice enough to you to give you a cigarette, do me a favor and leave me alone." Which worked, thankfully.

The whole rest of the way home I was thinking about how I would call the cops and file a police report and prosecute the case and then REALLY REALLY law review would HAVE to call me and let me on because I PROSECUTED a CASE goddammit.

Of course, I decide that microwaving leftover pasta is FAR better solution.

But seriously, people. I want GOOD luck. I want ONE good thing to happen to me. Just ONE. ONE!