Neat-o

after work i take a shortcut by walking up 1st and cutting behind the bank of america building on the corner of market, having to pass by a few benches and a parking garage, but ultimately cutting an entirely useless intersection out of my journey.

as i was doing just that last night, a mitsubishi eclipse came flying out of the garage tunnel as if it were on a mission to destroy my leg bones and ruin my only pair of jeans.

luckily, being half-japanese, i ninja-ed my way out of the line of fire and the vehicle screeched to a halt about four feet past where i was previously walking. i was always very good at dodge ball, but i never had any idea my swift hips and spider-senses was ever preparing me for much.

it's a shame kids are banned from playing dodge ball these days.

"watch where you're going!" the driver shouted.

"i was watching where i was going," i said amazed by their unusual form of apology, "that's why i wasn't hit by your car. you should watch where you're going."

"we're trying to get home. who walks around in the soma at 11pm?" they demanded.

"...uh," i began, "people who are also trying to get home but don't have a car?"

"fuck off!"

and they were gone.

i always love when someone ends a conversation with "fuck off" or any variant of the f-word, because it usually only happens when they're with a partner who will can reassure them they won the fight. and i suppose that's the problem: that means it's not a conversation to them, it's a fight. so logic is put aside to make room for winning.

i'm used to that. a lot of people are that way-- probably even me, here and there.

but that one surprised me.