So I put on some Body Shop Sandalwood, and was immediately very happy. It smells very clean, and yet...er, mystical? I don't really think of 'clean' and 'mystical' going together -- I like my mysticalness to be dirty, I guess -- but it works.
First thing I spotted on my Labor Day outing:
What on earth is a 'Noddle'? It sounds like a noodle, only muddled. Tasty.
I also find it interesting that "Noddle" was clearly written at a separate time from the rest of the text; note the darker blue, indicating a fresh marker application. This indicates to me that somebody questioned the spelling of 'Noodle' at some point, which may have been either an internal conflict for the original writer, or a discussion involving at least two people about the spelling of 'Noodle' who then wrestled each other desperately for the dry-eraser, with the 'Noddle' person winning. That, or somebody smeared the sign, and the writer had to fix the damage. Whatever happened, somebody clearly gave 'Noddle' some very serious consideration, like I am now. Fascinating.
So, anyway, there I was, meandering about the face of Pasadena in my big ol' sunhat and strapless sundress, at peace with the world and noddles, when I noticed a mustachioed man filming me from across the street. With a very bulky, professional-looking camera.
Being the stupidly confrontational person I am -- did I mention that, when I'm angry, I suddenly grow SEVEN FEET TALL and STEROIDALLY BUFF, entirely in my own imagination? -- I crossed the street to talk to the guy. Weenie that he was, he immediately turned off his camera, hurriedly packed it into the back of his silver Ford SUV, and climbed into the driver's seat.
Oh no you don't you miserable pigfcker son of a bastard--
"Hi," I said, into his window. "Are you a videographer?"
"Yes," he said.
"Were you just shooting footage of me?"
"Are you aware that I could sue you for using my likeness without my permission?"
His eyes lit up, clearly waiting for this.
"You can't sue me." And he gave me the widest possible smile-that-wasn't-a-smile, a smile that showed all his teeth but it didn't reach his eyes at all, a smile that said I GOT YOU, PUSSY IN A SUNDRESS, AND YOU ARE POWERLESS TO DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. I WILL NOW GO HOME AND VIOLATE MYSELF WHILE WATCHING YOU, AND ENJOY EVERY MINUTE OF IT, WHILE YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING EXCEPT WHINE IMPOTENTLY ABOUT THIS EXPERIENCE ON YOUR SILLY, SILLY BLOG, PUSSY IN A SUNDRESS. HA HA.
So I wrote down his license plate number (5LGE855) and phoned the police.
The officer on the other end was very nice, ran the number and told me it was connected to a local Pasadena film production company, but she also informed me that what the guy did was, technically, not illegal. If I ever see my likeness anywhere, of course, that'll be a whole other matter; but, for now, I really am a powerless pussy in a sundress. Fck me.
Way to harsh my sandalwood mellow, you Pasadena mustachioed wanking-to-women-who-hate-you bastard. I will now take pictures of myself looking peeved.
Well, me being me, peevishness never lasts terribly long.
And I swear I'm wearing a sundress -- it's strapless, but still very tasteful. Honest.
The worst part is, this isn't the first time a random guy has taken my picture without my permission. Fckrs all.
1. People capturing your likeness without your permission should be shot on sight.
2. Next time this happens, I'm going to flirt with the guy and ask for his business card, and then unleash my unholy wrath upon him via a lawyer. HEEHEHEEEHEHEHEEHEHEEEEE.
3. Sandalwood is very soothing, even in the worst of times.