Walking to lunch, a man said to me as I passed by him:
"You look mad."
If only he knew how much that trims my wick.
A popular one is:
"Hey, smile it's not so bad." or the more base: "Smile for me, baby."
The street talkers here are oppressive. They are figures of villainy, anatagonists in the video game.
When they try to control my facial expressions, it drives me to cold falling out with them,and I take away their more divine rights, because they did it to me first.
"What do I owe you? I owe you your right to continue living and owning your posessions, and really that is it. That's how fiercely I wield my right to do whatever I want with my face. Seriously, think about what you're asking me to do."
This weekend a man pulled beside me in his car to ask me "Baby, how tall are you?" in this really slutty way. It became a joke among the crowd whom I relayed it to, but really- it pissed me off so terribly bad. I am getting bull pissed right now, thinking about it. Sometimes, so much, I hate the sense of entitlement these strangers have. Their eyes look like "What can I get from you?" and then there is indignance and anger when they find themselves drawing from the acid well. If it wasn't so predictable and constant, I wouldn't be heaving this way. But it's like they do it for a living or something, the way they work at it.
I will cut the next stranger who tries to boss me around. Mark my words.