That's how I would describe my last hour. Let's discuss:
A) Decided to walk across the street to Subway on this beautiful 90-degree afternoon. Seems like a simple enough task, right? Yea, not so much. Apparently on a Friday afternoon Colorado Blvd. turns into Interstate 70 and pedestrians are not welcome. With no crosswalks, only a skinny strip of median keeping me from the Southbound and Northbound lanes and cars barreling to a stop, I'm lucky to be alive. My hour lunch was half over by the time I got there.
B) I am still trying to figure out the person who made my sandwich. Girl, boy, man, woman? Hard to tell really. I blame this one on society's (fine, my) need to label humans either male or female at first glance. I take comfort in knowing what sex is creating my vegetarian masterpiece.
- Very Muscular and Hairy Forearms (+ 1 for man)
- Strawberry Shortcake Necklace (+1 for girl)
- Long Hair in a Bun (+1 for woman)
- Deep Voice (+1 for man)
- Eyeshadow and Mascara that is halfway decent (+ 1 for woman)
- Called me Sweetie (Don't care either way - this drives me nuts)
- No Chest (+1 for boy, man or girl)
- No Adams Apple (+1 for boy, girl or woman)
- Butterfly Tattoo on Bicep (er, Butterfly = +1 for girl, Bicep = +1 for man and Tattoo = ? But over the age of 18)
Yea, still stumped on this one. My gender studies class in college has taught me better than to judge. But as for curiosity and the amount of time it took up my lunchtime thoughts - I surrender.
C) Cat Calling / Whistling / Honking directed towards yours truly on my walk back. I am fairly certain that this is a prime reason why women in particular choose to drive across the street, to the neighbors or practically all the way into a store to find the closest parking space available. All to avoid the dreaded idiots who call from their car windows.
Let me also be clear, that I am not being vain here. I am at work. I am wearing a freaking sweater not a bikini. I am in flip flops not stilettos and I am in jeans not daisy dukes. Plus I had sunglasses on - avoided eye contact at all costs. I am clearly not shouting, "Harass me gentleman!" What's worse is that all of the heckling attracts others to look your way. Now half the state is wondering why a girl with jeans, a sweater and big zit on her forehead is getting attention. Lovely.
I mean, really, what is with the, "Blondie!"? Or the "Whhoo wooo" whistles with a honk? Or my favorite, just, "Hey. Heeeeyyy!!" And ladies, you know the drill... look down. Ignore. Keep walking. Breathe a sigh of relief when they pass. Occasionally this will frustrate them even more and you get the "Aww, come on" 's. And while I continue with said routine above, there are many times that I actually consider answering back with, "Well, hey there. Where are you headed?" Or perhaps with a wink and a "Right back at you Handsome". All accompanied by the middle finger mind you.
I mean seriously, how do they expect you to respond? I assume this may throw them for a loop and I kind of think it would be an fun test. Anyone agree here?
And so there you have it - my chaotic, Friday luncheon adventures. I am now back safe and sound at my peaceful desk admiring the beautiful view from my 7th floor office window - and feeling like I will in fact be driving myself to a dining establishment next time for lunch.