At work, I was walking out of a place and a guy goes, Dude—I think he said dude—love that! I blushed but may have smirked like why would you love a shirt? When I walked back in, he was still there, like maybe he was waiting, and said, Not being sarcastic, I'm a big fan. And me, the legendary wit that I am laughed like a schmuck while I realized—
He got me. That fuckin hipster bozo got me.
A fuckin hipster bozo got me.
Did he just not see me open the door for a lady and nod humbly? Still, he was there waiting.
I should have said,
"Hey, Fuckface. Don't use me for your personal triumph. What are you, gonna go use it on your blog? Loser."
I should have beat him physically. I should have put my hands on his skin and cried like an animal in an insane asylum.