Odd = me

I was strolling along today, when I suddenly realised I don't quite know what to do with my arms. I tried swinging them all briskly like the women in those exercise videos broadcast on TLC at the oddest hours, but it felt super- weird, like telling people that you love your grandmother when you really couldn't give less of a shit weird. Stopping, I tried to let them sway naturally to the dulcet sound of  'Start a War', causing the not-so-high-powered business type behind me to snarl, "junkie" and stalk (rather unsteadily) ahead of me in her Bandra Blahniks. Bitch. Folding my arms across my chest was the next P.O.A, but it was too, "I am emo, watch me bleed." Also, I found myself unable to walk in a straight line which made me  sad in all kinds of non- shallow ways. Jamming my hands into my pockets (I love pockets. More than my grandmother even), made me look faux cool. I was cool with being faux cool, so I bought my oranges.