And the Worst Person of the Day Prize is awarded today at 8:42am, to the guy in the flip-flops, khaki cargo shorts, untucked pink button-down shirt, and pink tie, who was walking toward me in the opposite direction, and saying loudly into his cell phone: “I mean, we’ve got money, you’ve got money, so they’ve gotta – they’ve gotta make it rain,” while holding a single hand up palm-out in front of him in order to warn the woman walking toward him on the sidewalk that he was most certainly not going to be swerving, no, he was about to plow bodily through her physical form.

And yet! Even STILL! Final awarding decisions MIGHT have been held for later in the day, just in case a dark horse were to appear and really blow the judges away.


As he passed me, and walked away, the last plaintive cry I heard ejaculated from his lips was: “No, Dad–”

But also, just to even things out, I guess, this was a post that I’d written like a week ago at just about exactly this same time of day, but for some reason did not actually post:

Today I walked in to work behind the absolute perfect ideal of the Adorable Little Girl:

A fully-formed, conscious human, but smaller than you’d expect would be possible according to biology or physics. Tiny skinny legs going into clunky tiny pink shoes. Tiny pink shorts. Tiny pink-and-white striped t-shirt. Tiny Transformers backpack.

Her hair was divided with a Mayberry-straight part and pulled smoothly up into tight points at the absolute cusp of the curve of her skull (blond, obv), from which fell twin ropes of braid of consistent diameter their entire length – which was exactly long enough for the last inch or so to boop into the tops of her shoulders with each step.

She idled and daydreamed and walked slowly, almost stumbling with her – not lack of focus, but her deep, deep focus on the leaf or whatever. Then she looked up and saw her mom half a block ahead and ran to catch up.

Not to be a breeder about it or nothin’ – I’m not saying she was cute (or who cares if she was) – but she was the absolute perfect embodiment of the thing that she was. It was glaringly obvious to the point that I kind of wondered if her parents were a little bit embarrassed about it. Like, “Christ, Kaitlynn, can you tone it down a little today? Come on.”