Stunning Blue Eyes

You joke about exposing yourself and then you look at me. "I'm sorry, we're offending you."

"I'm from DC, I've heard worse" I answer. From Brad, Jack, Will, Colin, Josh. It's a life I left. But you don't know that. You don't know that you are just like them. Down to your gorgeous blue eyes and your two parent-less children and your long record of transgressions.

And when I say that I can't take a break and ignore the customer, you say "You work at McDonalds."

"Apparently you don't know me at all" I say to you. What does that even mean, other than I am getting paid by a corporate presence to take food orders from insomniacs like myself? No, Mr. Hyde, I do not work at McDonalds; you do. I stay awake at McDonalds, I wash dishes at McDonalds, I schmooze people under the name McDonalds. But I also leave McDonalds. I do homework. I paint pictures, I play the piano, I write papers, I sing songs, I hold meetings, I read. And you sleep. You don't even leave to sleep. You work at McDonalds and you sleep, and I do not presume to know anything about that life.

So, my blue eyed monster of a man, what now? It is far more offensive for you to apologize for your crudeness than it is for you to be crude at all. Because while you are foolish and rude to make such a response, you are arrogant to sum my individuality into a stereotype.