S U N D A Y . O C T O B E R . 4 T H . 1 9 9 8

As an innocent shopper in the local drug store a girl had approached me. A girl who thought it necessary to altercate me and invade my personal space with her big crunchy hair, bubble yum breath and flying spit.

I was minding my own business trying to select a new concealer (Revlon colorstay in tan 04 was my final pick btw - excellent) for myself. Alas, said girl appears and says, "you think you're all that don't you?" She can't be talking to me I thought. "Well?" she snips at me.

Now it's Saturday and I've just spent an hour at the market, a half hour in traffic to get to the bank before it closes and I just want to pick a few items to make myself feel good and this is what I have to deal with…shocking? Nah.

I turned around and looked at my newfound roadblock to an afternoon of peace and quiet and replied, "no, I do believe I am just me, thanks for asking. Who do you think you are?"

As the word, "cunt" passed her lips I looked up at the body approaching us and taking a good look it came clear to me. This beast in front of me must be my ex's new gal as his nearing face turned a horrid pasty white when he saw us together. (You know I must have some sort of whacked karma or something.)

These are the times I am thankful to be a girl and lady at that. It is my belief that if I had been born a man I would not have been able to suppress the urge. The urge beat this little witch into the nearest beauty display. But yes I was prim proper and all that crap.

So rather I took my newest beauty supply in hand and whispered in passing to my ex lover boy with a hint of sarcasm, "lovely, can she fuck as well as she speaks?"

A . D A Y . O N . T H E . E A S T . E N D