Must learn to not talk to strangers

Last week I had to go to the mall. I hate the mall. But I bravely entered the fourth circle of hell and tried to go about my errand.

Sadly I got stopped at one of the makeup counters. A very perky girl with shiny hair asked me if she could put some makeup on me. She looked so earnest and eager that I just didn’t have the heart to say no.

Twenty minutes and five pounds of glitter later I emerge looking like I got hit in the face by two bedazzled baseballs. She had a penchant for black and purple eye shadow that was used heavily to circle both of my eyes.

I dutifully told her it looked lovely and that this would be my look for forever more.

Now I have to walk around the mall looking like a rabid raccoon.

The day continued in this lovely way, when as I was walking home (right past city hall) this rusty green, Chevy Astro Van jumps the curb next to me and comes to a stop. The driver rolls down his window.

“Look what you made me do … cause you’re so purty.”

“Gee thanks.” Vehicular manslaughter is such a turn on.

Now I’m quickly backing away because I’m pretty sure that at any minute the side door is going to roll open and ninjas are going to jump out and attack me and then pull me into the van. Because I know that ninjas drive around San Jose in old beat up vans looking for random people to accost, that’s just what they do.

This doesn’t happen.

Instead he yells after me, “Where you going?”

I run across the street and into my building, locking the door behind me.