Today, against better judgment, we walked (keyword: walked down stairs, in lieu of the caddle-vators) to the little food-function. Of course, we mingled with people in the company we never see.
And those who never see US.
I swear if staring/looking could burn holes through us, I could be the softball pitch right now.
I HATE THAT.
After walking past about 50 tables (since we decided to sit in the sun), and approaching the corporate schmoes who "served us", all of whom were staring like 18-year-old's at a cheerleading convention, I was ready to poke someone in the eye. The last guy was the worst. He was shorter than me, totally bald up top, and I wanted to slap his bald head until it turned red.
I'm just sayin' that I REALLY need to get that anger thing under control.
We can feel it when you guys stare (and yes, this includes when we go PAST you...we FEEL it). And it gets kinda gross and weird when simply walking past 50 tables makes you feel like Jodie Foster on the pinball machine.
Or maybe it's just me.
*decides not to wear these jeans ever EVER again*