So the other night a man tried to molest me on the bus. Like full on trying to get his hand between my thighs.
I stabbed him with a crochet hook.
No blood but I hope it hurts for a while.
Two things occured to me after he got off of the bus at the next stop.
First I am SUPER glad I don’t actually carry a knife anymore because I wanted to stab him in the fucking neck.
Second, as shitty as my mood was by the time I started walking home, I’m glad I don’t carry a baton anymore because when a man honked at me on the street and yelled something about my fine ass (incidentally, it’s fucking winter and I’m wearing an almost knee length coat whenever I am outside so what the fuck) I wanted to break every window in his car, then his head.
A more sensible woman might be thinking of her own safety, of talking to the authorities or something.
I was thinking about murder.
I kept thinking that if I’d had better aim I could have jabbed my crochet hook in his hazel eye.
I was thinking man, what if someone had the foresight to give me a hammer?
I calmed down by imagining myself getting in the bus gropers lap all sexy like and then bashing his skull in with a hammer. I thought about how his skull would look after from a forensic point of view. Would I use a claw to pluck out an eye?
I would bash him until he was burger or until someone pulled me away.
And then I’d probably go to jail.
Now this is what I thought about during a non fictional encounter.
Next time someone asks me what is wrong with me (after reading something I’ve written) I may just tell them about that night.
In other news as a self congratulatory thing (because of the pushcart nomination) I’ve changed my appearance again. I’m wearing long wavy red and black hair, I feel like I have more potential to look like a cartoon character and that makes me happy.
Recently I found a cache of work I thought was lost with the hard drive of my desk top. I think I mentioned that. Today I am going to shiny up two of those pieces and thrust them (hurr thrust) out into the world. One of them is my version of an erotic creation myth and the other is just a little weird flash piece.
I also think that my run ins with the Groper and the Cat Caller and my reaction are good fodder to finish an essay on aggression that I started and abandoned for some reason.
I think that’s all.
AH no wait, shit self get that reprint up at etsy. Shit come on dude get your shit together.
So here we have a little glimpse into what goes on in my head. Welcome to the Circus.