People are strange

Some paisley-clad, patchouli/sweat/wet-penny-scented, birkenstock-shod wanna-be neo-retro-hippie-chick shot me a contemptuous look of disapproval today. She looked as though she was trying her hardest to radiate an army of poisoned red-hot daggers of flaming scorn from the innermost depths of her glazed eyeballs. Presumably because she saw me light a cigarette outside in front of Whole Foods market.

I told her "It's OK, it's Organic Tobacco. Grown and sold by Native Americans. More of us should support their endeavors, especially after having stolen their land. It's a small gesture, but it's important".

She did not appear to be amused. For a moment, I almost thought she was going to have an apoplectic seizure, or her entire being would deflagrate explosively. Sadly, neither of those things happened and I was denied the entertainment value of witnessing such an event. But my cigarette still smelled better than she.

And before anyone asks "What the hell were YOU doing at Whole Foods???", the answer should be obvious.

I was picking up hippie-chicks.

I'm just not very good at it.