If you remember where we left off, Rachel and I had left the Chappelle stand up experience to go find Roger, who, having gotten kicked out of the club for being too loud and drunk, was, naturally at a nearby bar. Rachel had sniffed him out from a block away ~ that’s love, kids. Their reunion complete, I hopped into a cab and got back to my place in one piece.
As I was on my way into my apartment, a dude with a boxed slice of pizza came up to me and said “Where are you going??” (I’m channelling GodSpell right now, but that’s an ill non sequitur, so I’ll stop)
“Do you live here??” I retorted. “Naw I don’t,” He responded.
At this point we were having a subtle fight over the gate that led into the tiny two unit annex of my apartment building. I pulled it casually, because using my might while maintaining a stoic face is something I’ve mastered (see: “but you seemed fine last night!” and “Dave Chappelle is looking RIGHT AT YOU @ the Cobb). Normally, I don’t think I would have won this type of battle- I haven’t benched anything heavier than a Five Dollar Foot Long in ages– but adrenaline and fear had me as strong as I was when I was lifting 3x a week. As the gate finally clicked shut, and I spun toward the hallway and my door, only to hear pizza dude shout “You real pretty tho!”
“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I walked down the hallway. As mean as I can be to friends (it’s a compliment! It means I think you can take it! Jokes guys, really! … Guys? ………Guys?!), I save my best polite faces for strangers- even when they’re crazy.
Conclusion: Perhaps leggings and heels isn’t always the smartest idea. They attract the riffraff.