From Nov. 06, ’09: Beware, or Be Aware, Werepizza

So today was a crap day. And by today I really mean yesterday, since it’s past midnight now. But anyway. Got up early so I could go into studio to work on my emulsion stencil… to find out that we didn’t have to have it finished today. Which was really odd. Had to leave studio around three to go to the car shop and have the Geico agent there look at my bumper. Turns out the damage on it is not from the accident. So, since I have not been in any accidents since I got my car back a few weeks ago, there is a very high chance that some prick with a trailer hitch backed into my car and just ran off without leaving me a note. So, whoever you are out there, fuck you. You think I have the money to pay for that damage? No. What’s wrong with people?

After that, a really strange money mooch approached me at the Shell gas station. I guess I just have this kind-and- gentle-philanthropic-please-ask-me-for-money face or something, because this happens to me all the time. At first I didn’t know what to do, I was still really lightheaded from the stress the car shit dealt me, so I was really out of it. I asked him, “Do I really have to give you money? Why are you asking me?” And went inside to pre-pay for my gas because the credit card screen was messed up on the pump outside. He haggled me some more, insisted that I could trust him (he claimed that his wife and daughter were waiting for him at the BK with their car and flat tire, the reason why he was asking for money) and proceeded to ask, very loudly, for a piece of paper and pen from the lady behind the counter glass. She must have seen how pathetic looking I seemed and when the man exited the building, asked me if he was bothering me. I told her what he told me, and that I was really sick feeling and didn’t know what was happening really, and she insisted that I let her accompany me out to my car to tell the guy off.
So we go back outside, and the guy is pumping my gas. What. The. Fuck. The woman said, “You bothering this lady? You need to leave her alone.” He said he didn’t mean any harm, he just needed some cash. She said, “How can you be so rude? What makes you think she has spare money to give you?” He apologized to her rather than to me and looked at me for help, I guess. I just said, “I really don’t want to give you any money, man.” Then he walked away all huffy and I got in my car, thanked the lady and left. Cried on the short way home because of all the weird, shitty turn of events the day consisted of.

In conclusion, people need to leave me the hell alone when I’m in public. If I don’t walk up and talk to you or just arbitrarily throw wads of cash wherever I go, you’d better not talk to me. Don’t hit on me, don’t follow me around the grocery store and through the parking lot and tell me how attractive you think I am, don’t introduce yourself to me in the hopes of getting my number on the extremely off chance that I would even be remotely interested in you, don’t ask me for money, and don’t hit my car like a jackass and not leave me a fucking note.


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