Sometimes I feel like my life is The Truman Show. Are people watching me and sympathizing with my existence? Cheering me on, trying to warn me against bad friends and screaming "Kiss the Boy!" at the TV screen (like I do with my roommates) when I act like an idiot and back off from the quintessential "too much too soon"? I was wondering that this morning as I walked down the street, on my way to the subway, when I caught the eye of a REALLY cute guy in a suit - surprising since I never even LOOK at guys in suits - and as I walked toward him, I made eye contact and started to smile when...I SLIDE on my already precarious shoe and my freakin' heel totally breaks off! At the expense of sounding like Nancy Kerrigan,whiny and vapid, I'm going to throw caution to the wind here people - WWHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???? WHY DO STUPID THINGS LIKE THIS HAPPEN TO ME? Why, can't I be a normal, functioning person like everyone else? Is it my FATE to be the circus freak that I am?

So the hottie is still looking at me and luckily I realize the issue at hand and do not take another step toward him because, I've been here b4 and I know the next step I take is going to sweep me off my feet and onto my ass and I REALLY don't want to be THAT Girl. Trust me - I've been That Girl. Plenty. So, I stop and lean on a meter and pretend that I am fixing my slingback. This tactic is called stalling, and if this guy had any manners he would walk across the street and forget about me, but noooooooo, the light turns and for some reason he stands there and keeps staring like he's waiting for me to pass. So I stall, and I stall and finally I can't stall any longer because I know he must think I am like some shoe freak so I look up at the sky and smile to myself because I know what I have to do and I think to myself, keep your chin up and square your shoulders and maybe he won't look down...and I pull off the broken shoe and walk toward the hottie, one foot bare, the other in the little tart shoe I had been wearing. And I walk toward him, which was conveniently toward my apt., and I just look straight ahead. But out of the corner of my eye, I spy him looking quizzically (is that a word, oh hell, who cares???) at me and then turning his head to look straight ahead and just as I reach his corner, he crosses the street.

Run up to my apt., change shoes. Back down on the street about 5 minutes later. Throw the subway plan out the window; I'm late now so F it. I'm going comfortably. Can you say TAXI? I can. And I did. But I got to work on time.

So I'm in the taxi and I pull my money out. New Twenties. Have you ever noticed that money smells like coke? I have. I mentioned that to a friend once and she said that's probably because money is covered with it. She claims to have seen this investigative program once where they tested the chemicals/bacteria on money and there were traces of coke all over the bills they tested. Take that with a grain of salt, it sounds like an urban legend to me. But these were NEW bills. Why do they smell like coke? I think the government does it to fuck with people. How else can this phenomenon be explained? And no wonder people can't get off the stuff. Hell, all you have to do is watch Access Hollywood interview Andy Dick and you'll be jonesing, but that you can avoid. How in hell do avoid the smell of money???

So I did this Junior Achievement Job Shadow thingy today. I was a little stressed about it because I wasn't sure what I could teach someone something, but as it turns out, I know a lot. It also turns out that I work better with teenagers than adults. No surprise there, as I have the maturity of an 8-year-old.

So this group of inner-city high school seniors comes in and I'm starting to get a Michelle Pfeiffer-Dangerous Minds-Vibe, without James Edward Olmos to help me out. So I checked the group and I tried to call fives on the Maxwell-looking guy because this guy had a look and some style and I was digging that whole vibe. But they ask each person who wants to spend time with you based on their interest in your job and this quiet girl with glasses raises her hand for me. I think I may have scared her. I talk too fast and of course, I'm cursing up a storm as I try to explain what I do. But I took her to a meeting with me and got her involved and she had some great suggestions and I think it really built her confidence and I was proud of her. You could tell that she wasn't part of the clique and she was the girl that kind of trails behind on the group outings because no one wants to hang with her. That BUGS. So of course I had to deal with that.

Lunch time comes and the cliquey girls are all shouting at me, "yo, yo, yo - whatchoo trying not to curse for..." because my boss was apologizing for my potty mouth and I was like "watch your ass, I'm trying to keep the color in my language on the downlow, if you know what I'm sayin'." And they were laughing. White girl speakin' like a homie - love that. So after I got in there, and I got in with the Maxwell dude, I was like "Listen - word on the street here is that my girl got the best person to shadow and I want you to know that I broke it down for Lydia here and she's got my digits. We're going to be keeping in touch. So if the rest of you clowns want to learn something - talk to my girl and she can fill you all in. Maybe she can help you step it up." Which of course, started a round of trash talk coming at me from all sides...but I gave them the hand and said talk to my girl, she's in the know...and I turned to Lydia and gave her the "peace, out, sista" sign...and said goodbye. I'm not sure if I made things better of worse for the quiet girl who wanted to learn everything she could about my job and what I studied to get here and how I know how to do everything, but I did peek in as I left and I saw one of the really tuff girls talking to her and she was smiling, so I'm hoping maybe she'll get herself in there.

And just one other topic. Last night I was walking home and saw 1C from a far. That would be the burn out jazz musician I dated over a year ago. If you could call it dating. Some might call it hooking up, perhaps a booty call, I prefer hanging out, although when I think of him toward the end of the "together" time period I think he should classify his actions as stalking. Yep, he got a little freaky. They all get a little freaky. Let them in a little, they want to get in more, you wall goes up, you back way, they try to get in, they want to get in, they'll promise the world to find out what you are thinking. Honestly, if they knew how boring your thoughts were they'd drop you like a bad habit, but they HAVE to find out why you are shutting them out. God forbid you shut them out. What are you hiding that you won't share? What's the deep dark secret? NEWSFLASH: There is no deep dark secret. There was nothing in that stupid ass briefcase in Pulp Fiction and girls that don't fill a your mind landfill with every every inconsequential schoolyard story starting with kindergarten and ending with yesterday aren't damaged goods with big secrets. Hate to break the mystique, but I have to put it out there. And God forbid you don't want to see them everyday because you like your alone time. God forbid you don't call 5 times a day. I think these actions intrigue boys. Kind of like how girls always like the bad boys. Same deal. Anyway, I spotted the freakshow just after he spotted me and I caught him looking at me and turning his head to look to his right, at storefronts, as we walked toward each other. But get this - Mr. Jazz Musician - cut all his hair off and was wearing a gray suit and a carrying a BRIEFCASE. WHAT THE... I mean, I almost didn't recognize him! So unless he's fronting The Bosstones, it's looks like our friend the burnout sold out. And he can't even look at me! I mean honestly, how old are we? I realize that I totally dicked him, but that was like forever ago and I tried to be nice after the cut off period ended. Is it really necessary to sulk like this? Acting like we are complete strangers? I mean REALLY. That's so gay. But I didn't feel like getting into it on the street, so I kinda put my head down and kept walking. And when I got to the next corner, I turned around to check him out one more time. Just couldn't resist...

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