Senor Lengua.

So the other day Brian and I went to a little Mexican place called El Caporal on Reseda in Northridge.
As usual we were both pretty excited about eating our favorite: Mexican food.
We grabbed a table and awaited our soon to be glorious meal, everything seemed perfect.

Mid-meal I spotted a Hispanic man in his mid-fifties sitting across the room from me, but in plain sight. He looked sloppy with his faded blue t-shirt, oversized aviators, and his raggedy baseball cap. He looked like a rapist. He looked as if he had over eaten all his life.
I thought I must have been hallucinating because I swear I saw this old man making kissy faces and wiggling his filthy tongue at me.
I blatantly stared for a good two minutes unsure whether he was making those faces at me, until his tongue wiggling became disgustingly vulgar.
I had enough. Something came over me. And I snapped.

The next few minutes went like this:
I stared him down with fire in my eyes and from the depths of my soul, I hollered in the restaurant full of people, "WHAT?? What the fuck are you staring at? Don't wiggle your tongue at me, douche bag."
He looked around the restaurant, acting as if he was the victim and acting as if he had no idea what was going on.
Meanwhile, the table next to us, a bunch of college students drinking beers, cheered me on.
Brian turned around stared at the guy, but knew I had everything under control.
So we quietly left the restaurant. I could not stop talking about the incident for hours.

I just couldn't believe that people actually lived up to those sterotypes.
I was so shocked that people lacked that that much dignity.

I felt violated, but like Brian said, "It's not worth it."


God bless you, filthy pervert. You need all the blessings you can get.