...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

And in the "Further proof that you barely have to leave the house to have it brought home to you that people are scum" catagory, we have today's joyous experiance.

I'm a person of few needs. Comfy bed, big TV, lots of chocolate, large stack of DVDs, and I'm fairly content. However, I do have one or two minor addictions (slash is a major addiction, and one I have no intention of changing), one of which is a fixation on Lush's "Honey I Washed The Kids" soap, which is as close to being hobbit-scented as anything can be without actually kidnapping Dominic Monoghan and harvesting his bodily fluids. Which I have thought about doing, but decided it was too much effort.

The Lush shop in Leeds is about twenty minutes walk from where I live, and since I needed to tell my bank that I'd moved anyway, I decided this afternoon would be a good time to leave the sanctity of my (oh so cool) new apartment and buy myself a slice of creamy hobbit goodness.

After all, what could possibly happen in a short hour-long trip into town?

Oh, foolish, foolish Froodle. Will you never learn?

I've gotten about two hundred yards from my front door, and am waiting at the traffic lights to cross the road, when some asshole walks up behind me, puts his hand on my ass and whispers, in what I can only assume that his mother told him - during intercourse involving them and the family dog - was a sexy, lascivious whisper, rather than the out-of-breath slobbering of an inbred fuckwit: "Nice, nice. Hello Sexy."

Excuse me? What possible response could these mouth-breathers be expecting other than "Here is my knee, excuse me while I aquaint it with your crotch"?!

Fucking hell, I hate people.