In the Field

If you truly were psychic, you would have known, before trying to hand me your flyer, that I wouldn’t take it.
I wasn’t joking when I said that we wouldn’t have stopped to give you change if you hadn’t had a puppy lying beside you on the sidewalk where you sat (looking, I might add, a little too clean to be truly homeless).
Yes, I am gorgeous. Thanks for the acknowledgment!
Thanks for being impressed that I asked for half-and-half in my iced coffee instead of skim milk, Attractive Man Next to Me at the “Caffé” Counter — and thanks for leaving before you could witness me dumping three packets of Equal into my cup, thus diluting your initial impression.
If you’re going to shed on the toilet seat, at least have the decency to remove the damning evidence.
No, really, it’s all right, Mr. Hideous Tan Shoes, if you don’t look to see if anyone is behind you when you’re going through the door. You are, after all, the only person in the universe.
Actually, I think it’s cute when you talk loudly into your cellphone about absolute fucking bullshit.