On my way into the studio this morning while stopped at a red light, the man in the van next to me was staring at me. I glance again. More hard, direct, unflinching stare. And I notice. A little extra saucy action. I think the crack was mid-whack. I was not whack worthy this morning, in boxing clothes with my layered rain gear (one prepared Los Angelino here). What is slightly sicker than the whack job starer ... as I looked straight ahead in a faux-ignore, I started to smile, then laugh and sorta enjoy the diabolical discomfort of it. So who is sicker in this example? :*)
Have a damn happy Friday thoughtsicles!
Stay tuned for Mondays detox-sicle.
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