Sometimes–by which I mean always–people say strange things. “I swallowed a bug!” … “Everyone zip up your fly. Now.” … “Where did these pita chips come from?”
If you’ve ever met me, you’ll know I’m not very attractive. It’s not that I’m actively ugly, or have a hump back or anything–It’s just that I don’t do anything to make myself potentially attractive to the opposite sex. I’ll brush my teeth and put on deodorant, yeah, but who doesn’t? That’s common courtesy. However, I can’t remember the last time I’ve even seen a hairbrush, my concept of personal hygiene is incredibly primitive, and as far as charmingness is concerned I can’t even spell it right (according to Chrome).
This is the part that’s weird. Today–not once, but twice–I was told that I should be a model. And it was weird.
First time, it was all about eyebrows and how my are apparently the epitome of masculinity. They’re so…nice, she mused as I fled from the scene of the crime. I partially lied that I had to go to Lit class. I did need to get to Lit class eventually, but not at that moment. I ended up sitting in an upstairs corridor and reading Dubliners.
Speaking of which, you guys: Did you know that if you read a lot of Joyce, instead of becoming easier to read it actually becomes harder? Now I’m meta-analysing everything. I watched someone drink coffee today and started analysing their individual finger movements. Later, I tried to replicate these movements, and I decided I was going to dance as I did so and I decided to do this in an art gallery.
Apparently, people assume that if you’re the type of person who randomly dances in an art gallery that means you’re also the type of person they should talk to.
So this random lady started talking to me in the art gallery, and she asks if I painted and how old am I and I said no, I don’t paint and I mentioned that I write and also work at the art gallery because the art gallery is part of the infamous arts centre I never leave. She noted that while she’s pretty much fucked, I have my life ahead of me and oh, You’re so handsome, do you model? And I said no and she told me I should. I thanked her kindly, not sure how to respond to that and I walked off.
So, yeah. Does it turn out that I’ve been handsome this whole time and just no one told me, or maybe that today was take loads of drugs and boost Shelby’s self-confidence day? Either way, I’ve decided to start handing out autographs…At least until my head explodes.