Home-wrecker

Perhaps it was the several layers of pink clothing I was wearing. Perhaps it was the air of what I was about to do...karaoke. Perhaps it was that he was certifiably insane. I'm not sure what it was, but the semi-crazy man who I ran into Saturday night knew something about me...something I didn't even know. Apparently, I'm a home wrecker. I'm a home wrecker and that guy is scary.

As I walked to the Mint, the man who had just yelled at another complete stranger for never being on time (from the look on that guy's face, he thought he was on time) turned to me. He felt the need to stop me from my evil ways by repeatedly informing me that I was a homewrecker. Interestingly, he gave me no advice on how to change, so it seems that I am still, by his standard, a homewrecker.

Note - as the frightening man accused me of breaking up families, I sought refuge in the only place one can go in these situations...Safeway. It's not just a grocery store.