Words cannot even begin to describe how excited this makes me. I seriously get emotional when I think about it. I saw the Broadway production of Peter Pan when I was 7, the tour came to Houston and my 2nd grade class went on a field trip. My parents were havign a tough time swinging my tuition and so my teacher, Ms. Semaneck, paid for me to go see it with the rest of the class. I went, I saw, I was changed forever. The actors were FLYING and sailing over our heads! They’d just leap into the air and WHOOOOOOSH! it was just so fucking amazing. I became obsessed with the story and anything related to flying after that — to this day, I cannot resist laying stomach-down (insert your own gayboy/faerie/sodomy joke here) onto a swingseat and pretending to fly into the air. I seriously will not be able to die happy man until I have been in one of those special-effects harnesses that make you fly around, it’s totally in the top 5 of my Things To Do Before Dying List. I remember getting into a huge argument with my mom over how I wanted to name my son Peter Pan, she kept explaining that it would have to be Peter Pan Alwell (my last name). This would just send me into a FIT — I’m talking tears streaming down my face, my body heaving, my voice screeching and ugh, it was a mess (I was a tad overdramatic as a child, go figure). She still teases me about that.

IMPORTANT: While I shout my Pan-love from the roof tops, I must make it unmistakingly clear that I am nowhere near as deluded or obsessed as this ignorant bitch. He seriously scares me and make me RETHINK the whole Spriteboy moniker altogether. Anyway, yes. Peter Pan. Christmas 2003. Cannot. Fucking. Wait.

Oh, and by the way? that is in fact Coldplay’s “Clocks” playing in the movie trailer (just in case anyone forgot exactly who gots the body that rocks the party)

Last week I went from red to blond, then added lots of black chunks to the mix, then bleached out some stuff I didn’t like. My hair hates me now. I definately owe these ppl a whole lotta thanks for protecting me from the forever-damning danger of an untressed head.

Randyboy (who was MIA last week) popped into Hudson this evening, totally caught me offgaurd. I was sludging my way through the very hectic evening and WHAM, he was standing at the end of the desk pretending to NOT be looking at me. Damn, what a welcome burst of energy it was. There was a sickeningly giddy reunion — he even waited 20 minutes for me to go on my break. Starbucks was ingested and then I took him up to see the view from the hotel Sky Terrace Bar, the most gorgeous place to be on a beautiful NYC evening. It’s a very happening spot, actually (considering it’s one of the few and rare bars in Manhattan that allow smoking anymore), so I also showed him a few of the (thankfully) lesser-visited, off-limits parts of the hotel, which I think he liked a lot more. The rest of my night sailed on by w/o a single hitch. A smitten sprite is a happy sprite.

A heads up to all my bitches and ho’s in Las Vegas: you can currently see Spriteboy on the big screen @ local art houses around town. Check listings for a short called Thursday Night Babysitting, it’s part of the Asian Cinevision Festival National Tour. Just an FYI!

We have a new manager @ work, some guy from our new property in San Fransisco. I think he’s just a temporary fill-in for now, so the jury is still out on him. He’s a young, little guy so I’m gonna give him 5 cool points to start off with. We’ll see how this one works.

I’m not certain of this, but I think that Jax has quite possibly been abducted by aliens. The truth is out there.

That boy from Everwood is in town shooting a movie. Been @ the hotel lots this month but I only recently realized exactly who he is. I have tried to watch that show but it’s just not happening for me, there will simply never be another Dawson’s Creek for my ass. Hell, I still be working my charms for all they’re worth, though. “Hi, Welcome back, Greg! Did you need anything this evening? A drink? Extra towels? My headshot/resume to pass onto your show’s casting director? Just lemme know, ok?” (No shame. None.) Also hanging their hats @ Hudson lately are him, him, and them. Between the three? I think our penthouses will be reeking of the sweet sweet cheeba for about a week. Fo shizzles, my nizzles.

Ran into an old college friend of mine on the A tonight. Kev looked exactly the same since the last time I’d seen him. We’d both just gotten offwork from our jobs so the reunion was somewhat subdued. Still, it was hella cool to run into him. He’s definately one of those ppl who stand out to me when I think about the friends I’ve made in New York. Out of everyone I went to school with, he’s the one who has worked the most consistantly and made the most out of his opportunities since graduation. He always calls me while he’s out on the road with a new show or while he’s working on some new indie, and I always do the same. The gigs we get have gotten gradually better, albeit way too few and sporadic these days. I keep trying to talk him out of going to L.A. (where the stupid ppl live), he keeps trying to convince me to go out there. It’s a viscious cycle but it’s nice just the same. We both have vowed to pull the other out of obscurity as soon as one of us hits it big, Kev and I. We’re also going to buy that big building on Astor Place & Lafayette one day, when the ching-ching is a-flowing, and we’re gonna live in it with all of our struggling actor friends and not make them pay rent.

Hey, I got referenced in a recent weblog article on Metrosexuality! Woo-hoo, yay! We like attention from ppl! Only in cyberia can an opinionated little freakmaster like me get any respect… ain’t it the truth? You can read more on the article and all its related topics here. Very interesting read.

Also, WORD to this entire thing.

So, last night I metup with M & J for dinner in the east village. Ever since the death of our beloved Chili’s in Times Sq., we’ve taken solace in the bright and shinyness that is Johnny Rockets. Did you guys know that @ some random point during the night, all the lights in the diner go into disco effect and the entire waitstaff stop everything and break it down to “Stayin’ Alive”?! No, I’m serious! Full-out choreography. It’s INCREDIBLE! I’m thinking of going EVERY Friday night when I’m bored, you know, cuz I have the time to do shit like that.

Guess who I saw @ the grocery store yesterday? GayJay. I’ve seen him only once (@ his housewarming party) since he got the axe from Hudson, but I’d heard that he was working @ another hotel now. One down in Soho or something. I didn’t say hi or anything, I’m sure the last thing he’d want is somebody all up in his space when he’s just trying to buy some cottage cheese.

Struck by a nostalgic, folksy feeling after watching some infomercial for a 1970’s #1 Chart Toppers compilation, I downloaded “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac. It is currently playing on a loop in my Media Player. It’s annoying me, yet I am transfixed by the melody and cannot summon the will to click the STOP button. It’s like I’m possessed. Damn that Stevie Nicks and her witchy, mountain-woman ways!

The Mexican was on HBO tonight and I’ve decided that I really like this movie. I didn’t like it much when I first saw it. But I do now. Is it just me, or does anyone else ever feel really good about themselves after they’ve given some shit-movie a 2nd chance and end up liking it afterall? Like this Charlie’s Angels thing, with Demi Moore. Suddenly she’s getting all this praise and attention again, it’s like America has forgiven her for shaving her head and that ugly ordeal with Bruce Willis. I love that we’ve embraced Demi again — sorry, D’mee (or however the fuck you say it). I love that we live in a world that would give her a 2nd chance. It’s fucking beautiful.

1. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?
Short (like me!) and straightish (like me, sometimes!).

2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime?
As an urban mexicanboy growing up poor and friendless in Texas, I either had a flat-top buzzcut or a thick moptop ala Mowgli from The Jungle Book. Dyed it dark red when I was 15, and bleach blond when I was 17, and it has literally been every color combo variation since then. I will probably be bald in 5 years.

3. How do your normally wear your hair?
Short, choppy, and messy.

4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?
Golden blond highlights with red and black chunks. I actually overslept for an appt with my Hair Sensai Eagle today, dammit, so i’m getting my hair did tomorrow.

5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?
I fell asleep with the dye on once and woke up with pinkish-gray hair that would NOT allow itself to be corrected. I told everyone at school that it was for an acting job.

I’ve lost my mp3 player. Last week hell froze over and I actually took a cab home… I actually took a cab home TWICE last week. One night I think I’d been waiting for the A train shuttle @ 168th Street and it was taking way too long (they’re doing weird things up in there), and the other night I totally zoned out and missed my stop. See, I was all caught up in the Goo Goo Dolls “Iris” playing on my mp3 player @ the time and totally wound up in the Bronx before I realized what was going on. During one of those $7 rides home I think I left my mp3 player in the fucking backseat of the cab. You cannot even begin to understand how empty my life has been. I had yesterday off so I went to Circuit City last night and sprung for a new one, which I totally cannot be affording right now but screw it. I’ll just eat NEXT week. Music is more important. E-toys are fun. I got a good one, too! I plan to break it in this weekend.

Happy Friday, people! Enjoy your night.

A damn riot nearly broke out on the subway ride home last night. We were all sitting there in silence, like drones, when this trio of schoolkids shuffled into the car @ 125th street. They were those kids selling Snickers and M&M’s for $1, we’ve all seen them — the kids claiming to be raising money for their school basketball team (meanwhile if you ask them what school they go to, or what position they play on the team, they never have an answer for you). Whatever, man. Well, this old woman (who was actually sitting next to me) calls over to the kids that she’ll buy some candy and some random guy in a suit barks, “Don’t buy anything! It’s a scam!” I don’t know what it was, maybe it was how suddenly and out of NOWHERE he came with all this, but everyone sitting around just sort of looked up from their books and paid attention. “It’s a fucking scam!” he repeated, glaring at the kids. “These little punks buy that candy for cheap and they are trying to rip us off! Ask him what school he goes to!” He turned to the smallest, youngest of the boys. “What school do you go to?” Sure enough, the little guy just had this blank look on his face and didn’t answer. “You see?” said the man, who was seriously annoying everyone with this shit. “Ask him for his school ID! Where’s your ID, huh? Show me your ID!” That’s when some random guy in a Kangol hat stood up and looked at the businessman. “Shut the fuck up!” he hollered. “Where’s YOUR ID?!” Everybody started clapping. The businessman shut up, indeed, and sat in silence for the rest of the trip.

I still don’t buy shit from those little kids. I don’t feel like enabling their young hoodlum ways. But you gotta give them props for their efforts. I don’t even remember what the hell I did all day long when I was 7 years old, and here they are probably making good money and having boxes and boxes of candy at their disposal. One of those kids had a fucking Motorola cell phone strapped to his belt. It was way nicer than mine. NYC kids are such a trip, man. All that attitude and bravado. They’re like little(r) Joe Pesci’s.

My newest addiction is that vh1 I Love The 80’s show. Just puts me in such a good mood. While the early-mid 90’s were more my primetime, I totally owned a home BETA video recorder, had a huge crush on Vicki the Robot from Small Wonder, and highly regarded Look Who’s Talking as a turning point in John Travolta’s career — I am totally a child of the 80’s, man. I think my favorite part of the show are the commentators. Dustin Diamond, Kathy Griffin, Mo Rocca, and tag teams Talk Soup babies Hal Sparks & Aisha Tyler, and Debra Wilson & Mo Collins from MAD TV are some of the funniest people in the world. They’re all just like, “Yeah man, I remember. The 80’s stylistically sucked and so did we.”

I need to take a Target trip. Buy a blender. And more off-brand Pop-Tarts (12pack for $1.79, man!).

So this haggard woman came up to me last night @ the desk, really pissed off. I’d had a pretty good night so far, despite the fact that we were sold out and understaffed and had THE MEETING FROM HELL earlier (more on that later…), so I handled her stank attitude with a quick smile and a, “How can I help you this evening?” She’s talking some junk about “some fucking oriental housekeeper” who came in and locked her minibar and took away her shampoos and blahblahblah… I sort of stopped listening once I heard her mutter the words “oriental”.

Ok, FYI? The word oriental refers to OBJECTS like rugs, food, and furniture; people are Asian. This is a major pet peeve of mine. Having been oft-confused with the hip and trendy Asian kids all my life? I have learned a few things along the way. Also, don’t ever use the words “some fucking oriental”, or “some fucking…” ANYTHING (insert your own racial slur here). It makes you sound stupid and makes everybody around you stop and just pity your ignorance and lack of vocabulary.

I looked up her account number and sure enough, there’s a big fat greek flag attatched. She was a recording artist with a major label (they’re ALWAYS a headache) and she’d been an IMPOSSIBLE check-in, refused to leave any form of security deposit. I explained to her that I could have the minibar and bathroom amenities restored immediately, that all I needed was a security deposit to put towards the reservation. “I’m not leaving you guys any fucking money!” she hollered. “I am a singer! My record company is paying for my room!” “Exactly,” I confirmed, smiling. “They’re covering your room and tax, and you are to provide the deposit for incidental charges. Did you want to leave that in cash?” “I just want to get some water!” she hissed. “Can i get some fucking water? Do you let your hotel guests drink water in this place, or do we have to drink from the toilet like DOGS?!” “Ma’am, there are vending machines on each and every floor. We also serve water in the hotel resturant and in all five of the bars.” “Do I need to speak Spanish with you?” she said, glaring. I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Why would you need to speak Spanish? We’re talking in English right now.” She snorted. “Well, you don’t seem to understand a fucking WORD I say, so maybe Spanish would be better. Maybe then you’d understand.” ( OH HELL NO.) “Listen,” I said, staring her squarely in the face. “if you’d like to speak with my manager about the issue, I’ll go get him right now. But just for your own benefit? he’s pretty fluent in English and Spanish, and probably a few other languages too. So if maybe YOU are having some sort of problem being CLEAR or putting things together, I’m sure he’ll be able to help.” Bitch huffed away and I didn’t see her for the rest of the night. I hope she found some water. I hope her racist little ass drowned in a big old tub of it.

Watching some old school Fresh Prince right now. Will Smith used to look hella funny, but those mutli-colored shirts/jams outfits he used to rock were the SHIT! Also, teenage Ashley Banks circa 1995? Mmmm.

I want to see Legally Blonde 2. I admit it. You may now begin throwing your stones and assorted fruits.

I just saw the promo for next week’s episode of Driven: Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen. There are lots of interview clips with the surviving members of Full House saying things like, “Mary-Kate was always just a little bit… edgy.” Seriously. Somebody kill the TV.

Yes yes, winners.  Here it is, my new fucking website.  Welcome to SBW 2.0!  Woo-hoo!  Everything from the old site is still here, and the actual domain www.spriteboyworld.com will transfer over in just a day or so.  I got rid of that lameass tagboard and the only other thing that isn’t quite set yet is the guestbook.  I’ll let you all know as soon as it’s ready and then you can all post your little bitter hearts out.  In the meantime? I have comments enabled with each and every journal/rant/rave entry so go nuts!  I hope everybody likes what they see cuz I sure as hell do and, when you really think about it, it’s all really just about me anyway.  Right?

I must take a damn minute and give sole props and praise for this slick little design to Shan.  The boy is a fucking whiz and he is solely responsible for the kickassness of my new layout and configuration.  He’s been more than generous with his webskills, and ever-so tolerant of my own web non-skills.  The following is just an idea of what our recent late-nite IM chats have been like:

Sprite: So Shan, how do I do that thing where the pic goes WHOOSH and clicks onto that other thing?
Shan: Stop asking questions and let me work.
Sprite: K…
[1 minute later]
Sprite: Does it work yet? 
Shan: You’re really getting on my nerves, man.
Sprite: Sorry…
[1 minute later}
Sprite: So will I be able to move things around and shit?
Shan: *sigh*
Sprite: How do I write stuff again?
Shan: I’m scared to let you run this without me.

Take a look around, peeps.  I’ll be tweaking things here and there over the next few weeks, just cuz I don’t like leaving things alone.  (Enjoy the mp3’s!) I’m sure I’ll fuck it all up and end up having to completely redo everything at some point, so just enjoy it while it’s still shiny and new, k?

Yay!  Makeovers are FUN! 

Behold, I apologize for the lack of postage on this here site lately.  I have mostly been obsessed with OTHER ppl’s blogs and their lives.  Also, it’s been pretty nice weather the past few days and I had to go out and get my street festival on.  But it’s late now,a long week lies ahead of me, and here I am again, so let the sharing begin.

One of my managers, Johnson (b/c he’s sort of a dick), gave me a peice of paper (and some major kudos) the other night.  It was an email printout that had been sent to the corporate office from a guest who’d stayed with us over Memorial weekend… and she freaking TALKED ME UP like nobody’s business!  Woo-hoo!  We like praise!  Totally made my night… it also came at the most opportune time.  What with all these suspension/termination sprees that Adolph has been on lately? it’s good to have a little bit of leverage.  Status games are fun when you have a little bit of weight to throw around.*

He checked into the hotel tonight.  She was not with him.  They both are gonna be on all our TV’s real soon.  Reality TV is scaring me.

So I went out with Randyboy and his dawgs the other night and damn, what a fun time.  It’d been so long since I WENT OUT with ppl and just chilled, so I was semi-anxious about coming off really cool and being funny and making everybody be all, “What a cool guy!”  Ended up being about 2hrs fashionably late.  Everybody was hella cool, I’d actually somehow met one of his friends already.  Apparently, he’d come into Hudson weeks ago for an interview and I’d been really nice to him.  Anyways, we all hung out in the gay and punky Alphabet City, went to Wonderbar for awhile but spent most of the night @ the 1984 party (Pyramid).  Dude I danced like freak on a leash, it was fabulous.  I made out with three people, too, which was even more fabulous — not all at once, mind you, I am not THAT giving.  And I only went home with ONE of them.  Heh.  Sometimes there is nothing better for your soul than just getting out of your head and shaking your ass (but watching yourself) to 80’s pop tunes. 

I hate that new Jewel song with the burning passion of a thousand STD’s

BJ made a brief, suprise Hudson appearance this evening to say hi.  I wasn’t there b/c I was on break but they called me and were like, “There’s a hot blond guy @ the desk asking for you.”  I raced desperately back to work thinking it was Danny, my babydaddy  “He’s finally snapped out of his denial!” I exclaimed to myself as I ran towards the lobby. “He’s opened his eyes and seen the glory that is Spriteboy!  He’s come to claim his love!”  Imagine my dissapointment when I saw it was only my roommate, back in town for about 4 minutes before he headed back to the set of his Dawson’s Creek-ish movie for a few more days.  What a fucking let down.  It was fun to show him around though, he had never seen the hotel.  Somebody complimented his luggage and he just fucking grinned like a bitch.  “Oh this?  This is genuine Italian leather, I bought it in Budapest last winter when I was on the quest for the Holy Grail…”  Fucking schmo. 

Best Offensive Joke I’ve Heard All Week:
q: Why can’t Helen Keller drive a car?
a: Cuz she’s a woman!

I fell asleep waiting for the A train tonight.  I woke up and it was after 2am.  Insanity.  My eyes were all red, my face was tired, my clothes were wrinkled… I might as well have just parked my ass next to that naked homeless woman at the edge of the platform and called it a night.  I ended up just swallowing my pride and cabbing it home.  Heard Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It” on the radio as we drove up the West Side Highway, and damn, it took me back to Spriteboy World: The High School Years.  Flashback: Homecoming dance — me, in the middle of the dancefloor in the west ballroom @ the Sweetwater Country Club, refusing to dance to this song b/c it was all popular and I? was not gonna be part of the mainstream bullshit.  I was way too busy being the anti-everything.  Daria, much?

Random fact: Chicago is a very very lucky city right now. 

* Thanks, Christine!  Your words lifted me up where I belong!

Those Annie Lennox posters that are plastered all over the city scare me a little bit, she looks like she’s been slathered in wet clay or something.  I’m afraid she’s going to harden and suffocate.  Somebody get her into the shower!  Hose her down!  Hurry!  Hurry!  We must save Annie!

Had the entire day off and oh, what a welcome joy it was.  Last night was AWFUL @ work, we ended up sending 4 people away to other hotels b/c we were overbooked.  It never goes well when you have to do that.  Couldn’t wait to get home when 7am rolled around.  Luckilly, my new Netflix arrivals came this morning.  I watched Real Women Have Curves this morning and just got way too emotionally involved.  Never before have I had such a strong desire to be a fat mexican woman.  What a rich life, man.

I metup with my pal Miss K tonight for a movie.  I hadn’t seen her sweet candyass in a long time, she’s such a hard person to get hold of, so when I caught her on Instant Messenger this morning and she said she was free tonight, I was floored.  We went to see L’Auberge Espagnole and fucking loved it.  A culturally diverse mix of gorgeous, funny, interesting young twentysomethings living in this big, beautiful apartment in Barcelona — it was like a really long episode of The Real World, only less shitty and with better casting, editing, and storylines.  Also, the absolutely perfect Audrey Tautou was in it and you can’t really do any wrong when she’s involved.  Plus, they made good use of Radiohead on the soundtrack and that was a good thing.  The movie was just fucking exciting to watch and made me all nostalgic of the way things were when I first moved to New York, I’d totally done that whole thing.  But see, when I was crashing in a stuffy, 4-bedroom apartment with 9 people? it didn’t really seem nearly as fucking artsy or picturesque.  All the imagery made me wanna buy some sandals and go to Barcelona.  My buddy Edd* lives there, and I have never been more fucking jealous of anybody!

After the movie I took Miss K to Hudson afterwards for a quick show-n-tell.  She’s been following all of my hotel misadventures and was dying to see where it all goes down.  I introduced her to the usual suspects at the front desk and took her on a quick stroll through all the trendiness, and I must admit that I got a little bit happy when we breezed past the bigass crowd of poseurs @ the velevet rope into Hudson Bar.  Were comped drinks included in this little forray?  I think so! cuz you know how I do.    Imagine my suprise and semi-”whathefuck?” when my my none other than Daniel Bedingfield (my repeat offender/celebrity stalker) strolls up to me all cheery and smiley and hardup for more sprite-love.  “Hey Chris!” he chirped, shaking my hand and pulling in closer for a semi-hug, “what’s doing, yeah?!”  I kinda glanced over @ Miss K and just exchanged a quick Can you believe this shit?! glance.  “Yeah, hi,” I smiled cautiously. “uhh.. you’re back?”  “Yeah!  Crazy, innit?!”  *sigh*  It was a strange, funny, and random exchange.  Miss K and I said our goodbyes and left Hudson soon after.  It was rainy outside and we got soaked in it, but I really really liked it.  You never know when somebody might be moving along to bigger and better places, or how long it’ll be before you see them again, so I just really had a great night with my friend. 

So is it just me or does the girl from The White Stripes look a lot like Azura Skye?

I love it that 99 cents will buy me a dozen eggs @ the corner store.  I fucking love it.  12 capsules full of yumminess just waiting to be cracked, sizzled, scrambled with chorizo.  It’s a beautiful world.

In other happy news: I’m meeting up with that cool cool boy (and his crew) tomorrow night for a fun fun evening of barhopping, first impressions, and “How do you like me NOW, bitch?!”  I am not so much a beer-n-pretzels kind of guy, but it’ll be good to meet some new faces @ some new places so whatever.  Maybe we’ll all venture out to a club at some point.  Serious as cancer when I say that rythym is a dancer.    I haven’t done a little dance, made a little love, or gotten down tonight in quite a damn while.

*Edd’s blog is called Nessun Dorma, which is Spanish for Nobody Sleeps.  There’s a whole backstory, which he goes into in one of his posts, but basically it refers to a line from a play where a young man in search of answers declares that no one will sleep until he finds what he’s looking for.  I just really like that.

PUBLIC ENEMY #1

Bobby Trendy

Ok, so I’m @ work the other night and it’s a madhouse.  Can’t get a bellman to answer back on the radio and it’s getting hectic at the desk so I decide to foot it on my own and run a set of room keys up to a guest myself.  I fight my way through the hordes of wannabe’s and poseurs in the Lobby and traverse across the distance towards the elevators.  I dash into an empty one and breathe a sigh of relief that nobody saw me, I hate sharing elevators with the guests b/c they always choose to take the moment and make it a “complaint session.”  But nobody followed me in at all and I’m gonna be able to make this a quickie… at least I thought so.  Right before the doors close, I hear a woman call out, “Hold the door, please!”  Shit!  I reluctantly hold the door back and in sashays this atrocity of glitter, perfume, and lipgloss.  It’s not a woman at all.  It is, in fact, Bobby Trendy.  Yes, that’s right.  Bobby Trendy, the infamous flamer/designer extraordinare from The Anna Nicole Show.  I watched an entire marathon one lazy Saturday afternoon and recognized that fucking queen right away.  I cannot put into words how much this punk annoys the hell out of me.  He was wearing a pink babytee that said “I like boys!” across the chest… in glitter and rhinestones, which he probably did himself with his own Bedazzler.  He was in full out fag mode (and I mean that in the most loving way), complete with the bleached tips, diamond jewelry, and more foundation on his face than a Texas whore — his skin, btw? was realy really bad.  We’re talking Edawrd James Olmos-type pockmarks, man.  Anyway, he told me his floor number, which was one of the higher levels DAMMIT, and I punched the button as homophobically as I could, hoping to send off some “Don’t even TALK to me” vibes.  I just stared straight ahead at the buttons, watching them light up and praying that this ride would be over soon.  That’s when I felt it.  His hand.  On. My. Head.  “Oh my god, I loooooove it,” he cooed, running his ringers over my hair.  Oh hell no. 

Something in me just snapped.  It was like in that movie Gremlins, when the little sweet, furry Gizmo gets wet and he turns into a killer demon monster.  You fuck with my hair uninvited and I go off.  I bawled up my fist and punched that man in the neck.  He screamed like a woman and went flying backward into the elevator wall.  “My face!  My beautiful face!” he cried.  I tried to get off at the next floor but that’s when he struck back.  All I heard was a peircing primal shriek and then the little bitch lept onto my back and began pummelling me with his tiny woman hands.  They were like little swaps on the back of my head from a ruler.  “Augh!  Get OFF OF ME!” I hollered, throwing him off like a wet pillow. ”What is the MATTER with you?!”  He screamed something in Vietnamese and just began throwing items from his purse at me — tweezers, condoms, lipsticks, it was really ugly.  I threw the room keys I was carrying at him, which made him flinch and and cower into a corner.  Finally, the elevator doors opened and I escaped and took the stairs down.

Ok, not really but you know… I totally wanted to do that shit.  And he really did reach out and presumptiously graze my hair.  How the fuck do you just DO that to a total stranger?  We need to set a boundry, Bobby and I, cuz next time? my little imaginary smackdown might not be so imaginary.  You stay the hell away from my hair, Bobby.