One of the regulars at my work is a tall man that always wears revealing dresses and sassy wigs. His legs are always shaved and more often than not he is pulling a floral pattern suitcase in one hand and has a purse hanging from the other arm. He has tits of some sort or another, and today he leaned over to get something, and out of simple curiousity I found myself looking down the top of his dress to see if the tits were pads of some sort or if he went all out and got implants. Of course he glanced up at just that moment and could totally tell what I was investigating. That was about as awkward as anything I care to experience for the rest of my life, and to make matters worse, the results were inconclusive. Whatever.
A ninja performance at the Saturday Market went horribly wrong when I had bad traction on the grass, careened into JW and sent us both reeling into a nearby homeless man who was taking a nap. The crowd didn't seem very satisfied and administration had a word with us about being more careful. We made fun of a lot of people and made money doing it, which we proceeded to donate to charity much to the contrary of our audience's projection, which suggested we'd spend it on beer. One vendor who we overheard saying she doubted we'd donate our profits came up and had a word with us about how we were drawing all the attention in the area so she wasn't getting any customers. She was kind of a cranky bitch and she just sold shirts with pictures of fish on them that I doubt anyone would buy anyway, so we didn't feel too bad about our ninja justice. She just needs to learn to heckle. That's her problem. We rock too hard for most people, especially her.