There's a few....Blogmas Day 14

....people I don't want to see, like, ever again. It's not that I hate them; I'd say I barely hate anyone, it's just that I have absolutely no desire to find myself in a face to face situation with them, because it would either be awkward or embarrassing, and definitely uncomfortable, and I like comfortable.
Thankfully, I can't think of too many yet, but here's the ones I'm filing under "avoid by hiding behind next available object":

That army guy who didn't get my humor. I've developed a serious aversion against his, well, personality. Come on, would you set me up with somebody who seems to lack the ability to understand sarcasm? Do you think I could hold a conversation with someone who apologizes every time I make fun of his opinion? The truth is, I couldn't, which is why we don't talk anymore (though I hope he didn't change his number just because of me, 'cause I wasn't that mean) and I would certainly have no idea at all how to react if I ever saw him again. Apart from the fact that I probably wouldn't recognize his face, I mean.

The man who made me fail my driving test. Twice. I'm not even that bad of a driver, and the second fail was totally not my fault, but that's not the matter here; He lectured me about half an hour after every test, which is a very insensitive thing to do to a 17-year old who is exorbitantly ambitious, not willing to deal with disappointment and who's looking at you with a kinda mad stare because she's trying to shoot little daggers into your ice-blue eyes which, in her opinion, show the coldness of your heart. So there's only one scenario I would appreciate him to see me in, and that's me shooting a music video in which I'm casually driving a fast, hot car alongside some cliff to the sound of an up-beat number one hit, giving him an ironic shout-out in a behind-the-scenes clip. I might have rolled over that sidewalk a bit, but at least I know a thing or two about timing.

The ticket inspector who gave me that fine today. I simply cannot handle two different bags - on Thursday, I changed 'em, being clever enough to actually take my train ticket with me. Of course, no one bothered to control me that day. Unfortunately, I didn't go as far as changing the ticket back into the original bag along with my other stuff, so today I realized I was spoken for, the very moment the inspector came around. Because it goes without saying that they're always coming at the most inconvenient time, just like death and babies or however that saying goes.
Lovelies, it was one of the most embarrassing things ever. I felt like some sort of criminal as he took my ID and printed out a little fine ticket and asked where I was going and everything. On the inside, I wanted to scream "I have a freaking ticket I pay way too much for each month, considering the stupid train is always late and I have to be standing up all the time, so don't come at me with a fine for processing my case, as if you're overworked". In reality, I didn't say so much, I was too mortified with my own mistake, the cruelity of coincidence, et cetera.
I also felt as if that inspector was full of disdain for this apparently impossibly wretched attempt of dishonesty (I'm not a criminal! Don't you dare make me feel like one!), so right now, I would definitely stop in my tracks and run if I saw him again.

Thinking about it, I probably should act all proud and sure of myself and me being a respectable citizien who pays their fees and is free of all faults except for not being able to manage rotating bags. I'll insist for the next inspector I see to check my ticket. Let them know I'm an example of correctness. And as soon as I can, I'll take a cab wherever I go. Cab drivers only wanna see cash. They're my kind of people.

Love,

Rosy Smith