So tonight I was walking home from the subway, down a small side street. There was no one else on the street except for an unexceptional-looking older fellow who resembled R. Crumb.
As he walked by me, he said, "Oh gee, you're sooooooo glamorous."
I'd say his voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it was more like soaked. More like flooding with sarcasm. Like, my-living-room-ceiling-has-caved-in-and-my-upstairs-neighbor's-bathtub-is-falling-through sarcasm.
I said, "What?"
"You're just so glamorous I can't believe it," he sneered. "I guess you think I should be asking for your autograph or something. You're soooooooo glamorous."
Thanks for bringing me back to Earth, crazy man. 'Cause you know, I was feeling pretty glamorous there for a minute, in my stained trenchcoat, Payless shoes and Goodwill handbag.
Thanks for keepin' it real.