Really? Really??? Was it completely necessary for me to completely face plant while trying to jump into the subway car at the last minute, lay with my legs hanging out the car for a few seconds in stunned silence, then be helped up by the subway employee while all the other yuppie commuters gaped at me? Where was my tall broad-shouldered prince charming stranger to help me up and fall in love with me, despite the horrible bruises that will likely cover the entire surface of both my legs for approximately three weeks, making people wonder if I have an abusive boyfriend when I wear my adorable minidress (yet unknown) for my birthday next weekend? And was it further necessary for that cab to splash me while I limped down the street the mile to my office, just in case I had any dignity remaining? Just wondering.
Terrified of what you might have in store for the rest of the day,
P.S. Life, I do have to say that although we're in a fight right now, I appreciate you sparing any damage to my amazing brand new pink Members Only jacket, since that would be criminal.