Monday, May 11, 2009
Space Invaders (and not the rad Atari variety)
Back. The. FUCK. Up.
Well, actually, I have a bit more to add.
If you’re close enough for me to smell what you ate for dinner last night, you are cramping my style and my body. You aren’t going to get to the register any damn faster. Calm down and stop hoovering the anti-oxidant trail mix; no one is going to cut in front of you at Trader Joe’s. I know your plane is boarding in an hour; so are the flights for the 10 people in front of us. Hold your fugly topsiders and your Ziploc bag and step back before I clock you and you miss your flight altogether.
Being the optimist (and a Monty Python fan), I like to look on the bright side of life. The upshot of your vertical spooning? You’re within my reach. I don’t have to move to push back…hard. Shove off and stop sharing my oxygen. Oh, and yes, my hair does smell terrific.