To the guy working at Dinkytown Optical when I came in to see if my glasses were breaking or if it was just a loose screw: You told me there was no hope and that I needed new glasses. Lucky me, I didn't have any money or time. And I didn't really believe you, either. The gentleman at Vision World in Calhoun Square had no trouble bending things back into shape. Yay! However, I've been itching to get some new specs. Vision World had some really funky frames for $89.95. Maybe when I get my next flex check back I can go.
On my way from the bus stop to Bruegger's for a bagel (sourdough, plain. I'll be putting my own peanut butter and banana on) this morning, some dude in an older Honda Civic or Accord hollered at me. At least I think it was at me because there was no one else on the street. He may have been particularly overjoyed about something else, but that doesn't usually elicit an "Aaahhhhoooooooooow!" It made me smile, and that's all that matters, right?
Monday, while I was waiting at the bus stop at 5th and Hennepin, I was approached by an aspiring rapper. He gave me his CD (which I have yet to listen to) and told me he was kind of attracted to me. He was taking some dude to an AA meeting. He had that weird, one long pinky fingernail thing I sometimes see with black men. What is this phenomenon? I don't see it often enough to ask anyone. I'm not sure who I'd ask anyway.
Regardless, I'm doing fairly well the past few days after the text-messaging episode with Whatshisfuckingface on Friday. Out of sight (or voicemail, text, whatever), out of mind. I can hope that he'll not contact me, but I feel it coming. I'll try to ignore him the best I can. He'll be gone soon and it'll be all over then.