the guy who hands me my free subway morning paper at the subway station every morning thinks i’m naught but a child.
oh what will that kim jong il do next?
courtesy of Edumetrics.
i bring forth evidence, your honors.
exhibit A: he did peek-a-boo with me the first morning i saw him after we had established we have a mutual platform of rapport and banter between us. he hid his face behind the morning paper and crowed “guess who?” like only a new father could. i don’t know his name so i said, “it’s you!” and he chuckled mightily and said “yes! it’s me!” his smile indicated his pockets were probably full of sun-sweetened lollipops and yo-yos and other scampy delights.
exhibit B: this morning he asked me point-blank where i work. i told him i do editorial work. and he said, “but you look like a little kid!” then i shrugged and did a little jig for him.
to illuminate the picture further, he looks like an african-american einstein, a wild shock of salt and pepper hair and a bigger smile. no one else should be allowed to hand out the news.
in other news, blob status is out of control. i strive to find the most attractive man in a room and make horrifyingly grotesque faces at him as if to say “sticks and stones may break my bones, but your beautiful face doesn’t intimidate me onnnnnne bit.”