meditation on inappropriate touching

spring fever! yeah, dudes. this goes out to all the inappropriate touchers and feelers up of innocent citizens and their innocent parts.

walking home cause i was all cooped up in my cube...walking, walking, walking, minding my business...when an intruder minds his business all up on my innocent arm. felt it up like a cat scratching a post. exsqueeze you. i turn around, thinking innocently enough that only someone well acquainted with my very attractive and appealing arm would dare to touch it in such an inappropriate way. lo and behold, the perpetrator of this injustice is staring, stock still in the middle of the street, at me, through me. i do not know you, inappropriate sir. he continues his visual penetration. i thank you for sunglasses to shield my shock, horror, and general repulsion.

skip to subway. young dude arises (no pun intended as of yet) to exit station when i spy...i spy an open fly. i spy an open fly with a full fist jammed down in there abouts. jammed! down there! in and about! i spy white boxers. i spy white boxers from within open fly wherein and about is jammed said fist. hey! that seems somewhat beyond the bounds of appropriateness.

dudes, keep it together. it's in fact spring and yes, in fact, you may be sprung, but well, i read gloria vanderbilt's guide to etiquette and no where in there and about did it mention the touching of parts belonging to one's person or rather another person, wanted or unwanted. (p.s. learning to dance at a young age is a skill every young lady should acquire.)

this is my brief meditation on inappropriate touching.