(no subject)

[owlectomy]

Woe betide the dude who tries to catcall me the day after I'm home from WisCon,

And melting from heat,

And viciously PMSing.

Not sorry, dude!

(The surreal part, actually, was after I'd cussed him out and a car pulled up to ask me if I was all right and I said, very calmly, "Oh, I'm fine, it's just that I don't like to be catcalled. I find it disrespectful.")

Comments

[trouble]

I wish I could think of a way of responding. Mostly I'm just so shocked.

[owlectomy]

Life in Brooklyn means that I can't be shocked anymore, though oftentimes I've already walked past by the time it registers in my brain.

I have a template of "I'm not" ("I'm not your sweetheart," etc.) but apparently "I'm not gorgeous!" doesn't work because it turns into a fight about your self-esteem.

One mustn't underestimate the value of a nice old-fashioned expletive.