boob lettuce.

I had a sandwhich for lunch today,
and at one point a large piece of lettuce fell down not only my sweater, but my bra.

Like, it slid from the point of initial contact down into my bra.

Try to fight the boner and read on.

So there were people around, but what’re you gonna do, ya know? It needed to get outta there. So I reached into my shirt to fish out the greenery.

I can’t really explain what happened next because I don’t entirely understand it. It’s one of those things that happened in half an instant: I made eye contact with a dude as I was fishing for the lettuce and for some reason it really threw me off-kilter.

Why was this guy looking at me? Oh right, because I was fondling my tits in public.

But why didn’t he break the eye contact when I noticed him? Was he offended? Was he staring at me, this young woman so inept that she couldn’t eat a BLT without turning the sidewalk into the set of a softcore mayonnaise fetish porn, in disdain? Was he Mormon?

By the time I’d gotten the lettuce in-hand, I was so distracted by this string of questions that I took the first reflexive action available — I put the lettuce in my mouth.

I ate my boob lettuce.

Anyways, after that the guy looked away, sufficiently horrified, and I took a napkin and got the mayonnaise situation taken care of, but that’s one of those things that you just have to look at and laugh.

Fucking being a human, man.

What the hell.