Good morning! I'm not so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I'm quite annoyed with myself for hanging out last night and for not sleeping and for going to work like this AGAIN. I'm irritable and highly-succeptible to smacking someone square in the mouth, if pushed. Its just one of those days, ya know. No Patience Saturday is in effect. Yet, in the midst of my super duper funk, I thought I caught a glimpse of RastaMan on the train this morning. That's why I chose to sit in the car I sat in.
There he was, beautiful chocolate brown skin, long neat dreadlocks, moustache, enviable cheekbones, slim, tall, but not RastaMan. In my head I wasscreaming IMPOSTER! IMPOSTER! But I was also contemplating getting hisnumber, asking him out....because suddenly, in my super duper funk I have grown a nice set of cajones. But, upon a second and a third/fourth/fifth glance, I realized I was trying to sell myself an illusion. He's not RastaMan. He could never be (especially with the way he swung his head around when the girl behind him fell asleep and laid her head on his back...hmmmm kind of effeminate) and in the end....I want the real thing. At this stage in our relationship, I'd have a better chance at winning the hope diamond in the mail through a raffle.
But, a girl can dream can't she?
Where's my raffle ticket?