Rainahblue
Well-Known Member
Well, are ya?
This article:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14124484/
made me think of all the times Ive asked myself, Ugh! Why me?
No matter what city I've lived in, I often get the crazy street corner guy who approaches me personally, while simply yelling at other passerby.
I also seem to suffer from the "Bartender Effect" where random people from work, stores, and other locations feel the need to tell me intimate things about their lives: finances, sex lives, job woes, a graphic description of some terrible sore somewhere... I remember one woman who was browsing beside me in a thrift store suddenly leaned over and asked, "If I try on one of these bras, will you tell me how it looks? I don't wanna show anyone else my tits."
It happens to my hubby too. Yesterday, while he was at work, a woman approached him and started talking about her father's alcoholism and fondness for prostitutes, her mother's time in and out of mental hospitals, and her own stint in foster care. This was despite the fact that my husband had A) never seen this woman before in his life and B) was busy repairing a giant machine.
Don't even get me started on relationships. :doh:
This article:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14124484/
made me think of all the times Ive asked myself, Ugh! Why me?
No matter what city I've lived in, I often get the crazy street corner guy who approaches me personally, while simply yelling at other passerby.
I also seem to suffer from the "Bartender Effect" where random people from work, stores, and other locations feel the need to tell me intimate things about their lives: finances, sex lives, job woes, a graphic description of some terrible sore somewhere... I remember one woman who was browsing beside me in a thrift store suddenly leaned over and asked, "If I try on one of these bras, will you tell me how it looks? I don't wanna show anyone else my tits."
It happens to my hubby too. Yesterday, while he was at work, a woman approached him and started talking about her father's alcoholism and fondness for prostitutes, her mother's time in and out of mental hospitals, and her own stint in foster care. This was despite the fact that my husband had A) never seen this woman before in his life and B) was busy repairing a giant machine.
Don't even get me started on relationships. :doh:
