I've been in the worst mood as of late, so instead of spreading peace and harmony throughout the land as usual (in the form of rainbows and butterflies, of course), I've been hatred's preferred mascot. Yes, I wear little horns and dance to the marching band - all of the normal mascot jive.
For instance, Cesar and I went to a street fair yesterday and some girl had on a nude-colored shirt, through which you could see her massive belly button. It was as if there was a black hole in her stomach that was sucking the shirt in. I pointed it out to Cesar and declared, "Whoever told her it was okay to wear that, lied. She has a gaping belly button that's eating her shirt. She's only allowed to wear black from now on. Go tell her."
It was only seconds later that I admitted that I've been pretty evil lately. Everything that has come out of my mouth in the last few weeks has been pure nastiness. I give people death glares on a consistent basis for simple things such as stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look at something, thus causing me to run into them. But really, can't they step to the side rather than halting in the middle of the walkway? My usual response to this is: "Walk with purpose!" Also, yesterday I ordered a Dosa - which is some kind of Indian sandwich -and when I went to pick it up the lady gave me a scowl because I didn't leave a tip on the credit card receipt. "Tell your boss to pay you more if you need more money." (She didn't serve me, just rang me up). On top of that, she forgot my chutney after having assured me that it was included. So, I had to get back in line to get the chutney that was not actually included, while my not-worth-$12.45-sandwich-thing proceeded to get cold. Sometime after that, I headed to the grocery store where I was forced to give some lady the evil eye because she was trying to merge into my aisle with a grocery cart. This is due to my personal belief that people in New York City should not be able to use grocery carts. The aisles are too small. Carry 3 baskets if you need to, but don't use a cart. Plus, she almost ran over an old man with her hastiness...And if anyone's going to run over an old man, then, by golly, it's going to be me (after all, he shouldn't have stopped in the middle of the walkway).
Anyhow, Cesar agreed with me about my recent evil stint, but said that he loves it because he thinks it's hilarious. I asked him when he began noticing it and he said he thinks the streak began when I started getting bad drinks at bars. In other words, it's been going on for a while.
I was going to write off my recent mood as PMS, but I think I'm going to instead give a little credit to the apocalypse, which, according to my calendar and a few Christians I know, is tomorrow: 6-6-06. I told Cesar my theory about the apocalypse having taken a personal interest in my mood and then asked him, "Wouldn't it, like, be weird if the world went up in flames and Jesus was floating around in the sky tomorrow?" In typical Cesar-fashion, he responded heretically and without hesitation: "Yeah, but terrorists will probably shoot him."
He has a point.