Sometimes I make myself giggle

As you know, if you've read this blog before, I really have a hard time putting up with idiot men who think they can say things (making noises, grunting, hissing, and barking all fall into this category) to women that are patently offensive and actually think they're going to garner a positive result. Since I have this inability to gladly suffer fools, the walk home from the train station is often plagued with an inner struggle to control myself and not do/say anything that may result in becoming the victim of a shooting/beating/mugging/crime of any sort. I keep my mouth shut, don't make eye contact when people are being foolish, walk with purpose and my head held high (so as not to appear an easy target), and remain silent until I walk into my front door and usually let out some sort of scream or sigh or groan that startles the dog. Then, of course, it becomes blog fodder.

Yesterday as I walked home I was talking to Kristie on my cell phone because she went home sick from work and I wanted to see how she was feeling (answer: she feels shitty, still does, poor boo). As I rounded the corner of the train station to get to the main road I noticed a man sitting on a bus stop bench about 20 yds. away. He didn't set off my threat-level sensors, so I kept walking and talking. As I passed him he hissed at me repeatedly and said with a very thick Cuban accent, "Hey, baybeeeee."

Now, that remark isn't enough to warrant paying him any attention. But, the hissing... the hissing takes it to a whole other level of loathing. I hate the hissing. What is it with the damn hissing??? I don't get it. I never will. It's so gross. And I was on the phone! Does he expect me to stop talking and respond to him? No, no he doesn't. He expects me to keep walking and ignore his sorry ass just like every other woman he hisses at. Surely that technique hasn't worked on some woman, right? I mean, it couldn't have worked. Right?

In the split second that followed the hissing I was wondering about this man and whether or not he's actually scored using that fine, smooth move. So I turned back to him and said, "Has that ever worked?" Blank stare. "No, really - has that ever worked for you?" Blank stare, stare turns to confusion, confusion turns to nearly fright. He eeks out, "What? Uh, I, I, I was talking to my phone." Um, dude, you didn't even have your phone anywhere near your head. So I guess the answer is no, that hasn't proven to be a particularly effective stragey on his part. Curiosity satisfied.

My mom said to me when she & my dad were leaving our house last week to head back to DC, "Please, Melissa, don't do anything to get yourself shot before you guys move." Sometimes I just can't help myself.