The Nod

Although nobody wants to, do you remember high school? Do you remember that cool senior guy who wasn't only The Bomb, but KNEW he was The Bomb? The guy who, if you'd been more mature, you wouldn't have liked because he acted like he was The Bomb. The guy who walked sauntered down the hall with girls flanked on either side of him. The guy who when he saw you, gave you The Nod while he had his hand shoved down another girl's back pocket?

I do. I hate The Nod. I hate guys who think using The Nod is an acceptable form of communication. If you can't be bothered to give me anything BUT The Nod, then just don't communicate with me in the first place. I'm interesting. I'm funny. I'm smart. I'm worth talking to, in case I come up with one of those interesting/funny/smart gems I'm so apt to discuss with whoever is in front of me (perhaps one of the reasons I created a blog?). If all you give me is The Nod, then you just missed a great opportunity.

Yesterday while taking BART home, a little girl and her father sat across from me. At one point, the girl loudly told her father "I think you need to change my underwear" while clutching her crotch. She peed in her pants (well, her skOrt really) riding the train. Fabulous. After they got off the train, at the next stop a hot guy got on. He sauntered onto the train, and despite the people behind him also trying to board, he blocked their entrance during his dramatic pause, as if he was being announced as a deb. He looked around (probably looking for some hot girls to hit on) and then started walking towards the Pee Seat. Just as I was about to tell him about the pee, he caught my eye, and gave me... wait for it... yup, The Nod.

For the first time, I smiled in response to The Nod, and said absolutely nothing.

The moral of this blog entry? Don't give anyone The Nod. You never know when they were about to save you from sitting in pee.