I cannot stand an inside-out hood. It just sits there (or passes by on the street), jeering at me in all its twisted inside-out-ness looking so WRONG that despite the (high) possibility of being misunderstood as a creeper, I feel it most strongly upon myself to right the skewed aesthetic equilibrium of this planet to right that wrong.
I just tell random strangers that somethings up with their wardrobe. They usually thank my and fix it. Especially if its something embarrassing like their skirt is tucked into their undies. >.>
ReplyDeleteActually no that's a total lie. I lurk in the corner and giggle.
how about when people fall asleep on the subway and then lean dangerously close to falling?
ReplyDelete=P