I avoid eye contact with strangers because I learned, growing up back east, that it could be taken as a challenge/invitation. That many people around you, personal privacy was important. There's a difference between looking past someone while giving off "I have a purpose" vibes and walking around with your head down looking like a victim.
What Happens in Natter 35 Stays in Natter 35
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I feel like making eye contact is more of an invitation than not making eye contact, so mostly I don't. I haven't been attacked yet, though that's bound to me more a matter of luck than anything else.
They painted it like not looking was equivalent to flashing your panties.
I never make eye contact with anyone on the street. I don't want to communicate with them, I don't want them to communicate with me, end of story.
Scathing anti-war testimony: [link]
Psst, hey connie!
Pretty sword pens!
Of course, my eye was then immediately grabbed by the itty vibrators below the pens . . .
my eye was then immediately grabbed by the itty vibrators below the pens
I can take no responsibility for the "if you like this, then check out these!" connections...in fact, mildly disturbed by a sword/fukuoku link.
Sheesh! Sometimes a sword is just a cigar, err, or something.
Dammit, I looked at a hamburger blog and now I want a hamburger. On the plus side I can go over there at 11:30 and beat the rush.
Less fun than contemplating the imminent cheeseburger: Emmett's got a sore neck, so he's home with Mom. Emmett is surprisingly muscley for an 8 y.o. and he will occasionally "sleep wrong" and get a pinched nerve. These don't seem like 8 y.o. ailments to me, but he gets them.
His Mom will be bringing him to my workplace at 2:30 today. Which at least relieves me of an afternoon commute, and he should be placated with a small gelato (which I owe him anyway from baseball).
Still, I didn't come in to work yesterday because it was too fucking gorgeous to be filing paperwork on a Sunday. But now I'm going to get behind and I'm stressing. Also, the car failed it's smog check and we already dropped $700 on it to fix that problem. So it can't get registered and blah blah dominoes.
Feh.
When's my cheeseburger? Can somebody set a timer?
Poking head to congratulate Betsy on her new job - yay!