My daughter has a purse. It's big and it's one of those purses that is so ugly it's cute. Not too many things can be so ugly they achieve cute status. Purses and chihuahuas maybe. With women, the uglier a purse or a chihuahua is the more the woman likes them.
That never worked for me in high school. The fact that I was ugly just meant that I was ugly. It sucked, but at the same time, it wasn't confusing. Life was simpler back then. People who were ugly remained ugly, telephones sounded like telephones, and when you saw a chihuahua you kicked it.
Everything's upside down these days.
Today the guy sitting next to me on the train just got a phone call. His ringtone sounded like the tardis. I mean, I start looking for David Tennant but it's just a phone. Right now I can hear both sides of the conversion. It's the dude's mom calling from Florida.
And look, there's a chihuahua in that girl's purse. I almost reflexively kick the darn thing but I've learned from the last time. Too bad. I like kicking chihuahuas.
A telephone used to actually ring . . . eh.
No comments:
Post a Comment