Early Morning Thoughts At A Coffee Shop

I'm sitting across from a girl who is barefoot in a coffee shop.

I want to reach out and tickle her feet. I want to show her the inherant dangers of doing such a brazen thing in such a public place. I want to make her laugh while being thoroughly disgusted and angry.

Interesting how tickling works. It makes you angry and annoyed, and you laugh the entire time. It's such a strange reflex.

She's pretty. She keeps catching my eyes as I look up and scan the room. I wonder if she's attracted to me. It doesn't matter, honestly - a zero sum game, no win and no loss either way. If she is, there's nothing she can do about it - I'm happily married. If she isn't, who cares - I'm happily married. But it's still a thought that crosses my mind when I see a woman I find pretty or attractive -- do I come off as attractive to others?

I always think not. I always see myself somewhat akin to the grey Hulk. Big flat wierd head on a gigantic body. But not grey. I guess that's where the difference lies between me and Dr. Banner. Well, that and the radioactivity, and the genius. But other than that, yeah, I'm like grey Hulk. Yet, I sometimes am told I'm cute or attractive. Usually before I open my mouth. That particular act has a way of thoroughly disrupting that notion.

I can't get over her bare feet here on the coffee table with my tennis-shoe-clad feet. I wonder which situation is more intolerable to prudes, or if the footwear even changes the equation to people who find feet on furniture abhorrent.

I want a donut.

If you're reading this and are confused, bored, or some mixture of the two... Well, that's what you get when you read someone else's journal.