I was having a bad day. In the stairwell of my apartment building, an Uber-male with a broad smile and big swaggering thighs blocked my way.
“Come on, gorgeous,” he said. “Smile for me!”
Not for you.
“How dare you?” I said. “My father just died.”
The look on his face, like his erection had suffered a stroke—this made me smile.
So I said to him, “Why the sad face? Smile for me!”
Imagine that, he couldn’t get it up.
It makes me weep
Cry on cheese, please.
Cry for the cheese you’ll never eat
-MY SELF REBECCA