« Dissertation advice? | Main | Staying out of the kitchen »

The Summer of Inappropriate Touching

It's funny how the mind really only needs a couple of small details to turn it into a pattern.

So I'm in the RiteAid 'round the corner from my apartment, looking to caffeinate myself. I walk over to the cooler, and all of a sudden, someone grabs my ass. I spin around, and it's some skanky looking guy, hasn't shaved in a while, shirt completely unbuttoned, cheap sunglasses, gold chain--never seen him before. As is apparently becoming a habit with me, I really have nothing to say. He mumbles some sort of half-apology about how I look just like his son, and I just stare.

Finally, he starts to back away, and I spring into action. In this case, action means grabbing a coke, and speedwalking to the cashier. On the one hand, I felt like I should have had something clever to say. On the other, though, I suppose I can just be thankful that I didn't do or say anything stupid. For future reference, though, if I feel someone's hand on my ass, the only way that's appropriate is if I know who it is before I turn around. In fact, that may qualify as one of my fundamental rules of the universe, somewhere in the neighborhood of Kant's categorical imperative.


Bad touch! BAD TOUCH!

Why can't there be GOOD touches in Kwick-E-Marts? There just never are. . .

"You look like my son"? What did he think, that you'd say, "Oh! In that case, no problem. Honest mistake -- it could happen to anybody!"

And, uh, what kind of dad grabs his son's ass?

What goes on up there in Syracuse? Those northern folk is weird.

Yeah, my first thought was to wonder exactly who his son is that he appreciates having his dad sneak up behind him and grab his ass in public...

Okay, that was more like the 3rd or 4th thought...


Hey! Stop thinking my thoughts as I type em!