So I'm walking from my car to the store yesterday to buy my NY Post to read during lunch. I always read the NY Post at lunch, but that's not the point of the story. Ahead of me, maybe twenty feet away is a twenty-something female-type. She is on her cell phone. She is fighting with her boyfriend, loudly. I love when people are clueless about themselves and their surroundings. I did not slow down, but I could not help but listen because she was so loud.
Here, as best as I can remember, is her end of the conversation: "I don't [expletive deleted] care you [expletive deleted][expletive deleted]. No, I'm not the same person I was three months ago. I'm in a different [expletive deleted] place you [expletive deleted][expletive deleted] and I told you I am [expletive deleted] not going to [expletive deleted] put up with your [expletive deleted][expletive deleted][expletive deleted], you [expletive deleted]."
"Wow," I thought. I bought my paper and walked back outside. Now this lively young thing was talking to her girlfriend, recapping the whole sordid affair. Basically, from what I could gather from what she was telling Nichole was that Paul called back to apologize and that was when "[she] just [expletive deleted] felt the [expletive deleted] like letting the [expletive deleted] [expletive deleted] have it."
I report this out of a sense of duty. It was obvious that Paul's (I guess) ex-girlfriend who is currently BFF's with Nichole felt her personal business needed to be heard by the world, and since I fancy myself a writer, well, I guess it's my cosmic responsibility...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment