If I May...

say so myself, this is the last of May for 2012 and, if some prognosticators are correct, the last May we may have. Maybe I should cut it out with all the may use. After all, there's no use for mayday on this May Day, though it does happen to be a grey day. About this I don't think there's much more I should say, but I don't know, I just may. Okay.

As is often the case, those really hard-hitting issues that course through my brain have eluded me. And if you think of me discussing hard-hitting issues as anything but sarcasm, then I have deluded you.

Walking etiquette made its way into my last entry, and its back in this exciting follow-up. Today, as I headed through a revolving door (there are a lot of these in Chicago. I think this is for both energy saving and because it's often effing windy, and it is a real struggle to open and close doors if you're in the wrong windstream) on my way to the train, there was a woman toting (no ™) her umbrella in one hand, and a wheeled bag in the other. This left zero hands free, along with perhaps zero brain cells. The result was that she attempted to push on the door with about zero force. Now I'm no physics whiz, but it can take force to get a revolving door moving. And though there was the residual force exerted by the man before her, there is also the drag coefficient of design. So when I stepped in, it was as if the door was not moving and this woman would have been essentially trapped. So I pushed forward, and keep in mind I am not a being of massive strength and so the door began movement again, but not at any great rate. Still, the woman was sluggish, and somehow unaware of the door movement not being magic and so, I am sure, expecting that it would stop to allow for her sluggish exit.

Instead I clipped her Louis Vuitton Bag in the door and she gave me a dirty look. Given that she otherwise would have been essentially trapped within the door, I was hoping to explain this fact to her, but instead I just kicked her in the face, which surprised even me, because though she was not exceedingly tall, I am not very flexible, especially in the groinular region.

The ultimate outcome is that I lied about that last bit, apologized though I'd really done nothing wrong (translation: I'm a bit of a bitch), and hurried onto the train.

And then I ordered a burrito that was like made-to-order Taco Bell. It might sound like a knock, but it's an observation. Now knowing that it would be such a good TB facsimile, my selection of Mountain Dew was an unwitting genius culinary pairing. I do kind of wish it had been Diet Mountain Dew though, because DMD has a nice ring to it. And if you like it, then it should've had a ring to it.