07.13.06

As I was out re-stocking the condiment stand, and emptying the trash this afternoon (ahh, the glamour) a man walked up to me. He got a little close for personal comfort, so I faced him. He said,

"So, are you and she," indicating my co-worker, "a couple and you get to work together?"

"No."

"Oh. So it's not that kind of party."

"No."

"Well, you know the old joke about Portland, right?"

"No."

"Why doesn't Portland flood since it rains so much?"

"I don't know."

"Because there's a dyke on every corner. Haw, haw, haw." Then he nudged my arm and continued to laugh. I looked at him.

I must have had the you-just-did-something-horribly-wrong, Mom look, because he skittered away.

Okay.

I wasn't offended. Ignorant people do make assumptions about my sexual preferences based on my hair. They're idiots, poor things. I believe that time wounds all heels; though I'd love to see his comeuppance. I was astonished that he had the temerity to walk up to a stranger and blather out his assumptions about her personal life.

Told my co-worker about the incident. She was surprised that I hadn't punched the guy. Eh, why bother? We surmised that he'd seen us and had some hot, girl-on-girl fantasy and, being a boor, decided to share.

Oaf. Cretin. Boob.

Then I sliced my finger open on the damn bagel cutter.

Off to Krav Maga. Whee!

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