it was a lovely morning - woke up early, dressed in a cute outfit, actually
combed my hair, felt all perky and happy (can't you tell something is
about to change this?) when i read an email from online museum guy who said he thought i was great, but wasn't expecting me to be so ... curvy.
he felt duped. (despite my ad and photos describing me as 'zaftig' . who the hell doesn't know what this means??)
you punk-rock posing-foucault reading-sawdust smelling-breadstick-bike riding arsehole.
mood is now murderous and dangerous.
reading of his weird offended feelings was like reading the sex & the city equivalent to the iraq WMD scandal: why was the intel so bad during the run up to their date with destiny??
because who knew that one's porportions would have to be disclosed like the warning label on a side view mirror: "Beware: Ass may be bigger than previously thought."
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