Something utterly shocking, horrible and completely unbelievable happened to me yesterday while I was out walking. The whole ordeal happened so fast, 45 seconds tops. I felt something hit my shoulder. I thought a seagull had shat on me. There was that much heavy feeling gunk. But unlike bird crap, this gunk wasn't opaque and it smelt like bleach. Bewildered I looked up at the row of lofts I was passing by. In the window of a lower story was an older man, completely naked, ejaculating out the window.
I know, I know. Remember I said it was completely unbelievable. I was out walking? But this is true. And that jackass came on me!
I was livid. I remembered that spiting on a person is considered assault so naturally I figured this guy cumming on me meant rape. I yelled every expletive I know at the guy who seemed to just get aroused by fevered rant. What happened to the refractory period? He probably considered what I was saying "dirty-talk" because he wasn't going limp and he was still shooting out buckets. Damn Viagra! I fumbled for my phone because I was going to call the cops-- but I want to get his joy juice off of me so I ran back to work (ok, walked really fast) which was right around the corner.
Before I went off the deep-end I sent off two emails to trusted gay friends to see what they thought I should do. Geof advised me I should call the police unless I didn't want to explain the situation to a cop, who "will no doubt look at you in horror, like I am at my screen right now." Jim, who also believes in my life motto of "find the comedic lining to every tragedy cloud" said I should count my blessing because I wasn't walking a few inches to the right while yawning.
Well I didn't call the police, which would have fleshed this anecdote out into a story. Instead I just laughed it off as another unbelievable account of what can happen in SF on any given day. Had a bird crapped on me, it might have been seen as a sign of luck, like many cultures believe it to be. A stranger cumming on me, well maybe that's lucky too. The last time someone came on me was in August of 2006. Maybe this is officially the end of the dry spell (though I'm sure that's actually considered a drought).
In other news: Have you heard that David Beckahm is getting his own brand of bottle water? I don't get why they need to re-brand Massengill, though putting his picture on the box does make sense.