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Holy.

lol. I was at Barnes & Noble yesterday and -- being a complete geek for paranormal and horror novels -- had an armful of books (okay, it was more like two or three). Anyway, I had finished checking the fiction section, and was just getting on the escalator to head back to the first floor.

Right.

I got on. Started my descent. Glanced through the back covers to read more about the books I'd nabbed.

And, as I had picked up my sister's OCD-ish tendencies, I usually prefer not to hold onto the guardrail. Rail? Armrest? Anyway, perhaps there's a reason for that safety precaution.

The power went out.

The escalator came to a sudden halt.

Due to momentum, my body did not. I pitched forward. From the top of the escalator.

Can we say, faaaak?

People say their lives flash before their eyes.

Hah. That's a load of bull. The only things flashing before my eyes were lots of metal stairs and the titles "Needful Things" and "Blood Noir" tumbling down the escalator.

Anyway, I was lucky because a middle-aged man was a few steps in front of me, and I suppose I shrieked or something because he held onto both sides and barricaded the front for me.

I collided with his back before grabbing onto the rails.

Assuming he wasn't there and I'd cracked my neck on the tiles of B&N and became a paraplegic, think I could sue B&N? Haha. I kid. >_> Yay for not being physically injured. My pride, however, is a different story.

Wow. Just... wow.

So, according to this article, a Singaporean woman's getting whipped for drinking beer in public, in Malaysia. Six lashes of the "rotan" including a fine.

I wonder if men fall under the same "Section 136".

The law is cool. Whatev. I can respect another country's law, even if I don't agree with it. And, if I'm visiting the country, I believe you should follow that country's laws.

However. LOL. At one of the replies:

"I agree with this law.

It is time we ban women behaving promiscuously in night spots.

What you want girls??? want to be screwed right? just say it lah.

Dont have to buy so expensive sexy dress and buy so expensive drink and spend so much time into the wee hours.... just to be screwed right???"

This was posted by Sinkapoorean. It's his opinion -- and hey, I can respect that.

So, just because a woman wants to feel confident and sexy, and wears a sexy dress, and buys an expensive drink ('cos, you know, it has nothing at all to do with perhaps the fact that she may like the drink), she's a promiscuous thang who wants to get banged.

It has nothing to do with maybe just meeting some guys and catching their interest. Or feeling good about being attractive.

Right.

Mmm, baby, oh baby. Hand me that "so expensive sexy" black dress and "so expensive" vodka, now. :D

I like how putting on a sexy dress and drinking an expensive drink is promiscuous.

And, you know, hey, if a guy's wearing an expensive suit and tossing back that expensive drink, he's probably considered well-off and privileged. Promiscuous? A man? Never!

Second, he wants to ban women behaving promiscuously in night spots. Well, where do you draw the line at promiscuous? Putting on a sexy dress and buying an expensive drink? Well, define sexy and expensive? What becomes too sexy, too expensive? I'm sorry, did you want your women garbed from head to toe? -_-

It sounds like Sinkapoorean needs to get laid, and begrudges well-dressed women with cock(not his)tails in hand.

So, fine. Maybe I don't see things from this kid's perspective because I wasn't raised in whatever society (gee, think he could be from Singapore?), but I guess this is my feminist side coming out (look! Feminist!Mae's out of the closet now :D).

If you can't play with the big girls, don't hate.

*headdesks*

Okay. So, guess where guys like to masturbate? :D :D :D GUESS!

In Target changing stalls.

I'm so serious.

I was at Target a few days ago trying on some workout tops (moisture-wicking for the win!), and while I'm changing, I sneezed a couple times.

To my immediate left (aka stall next door), I hear a masculine, "Bless you. God bless you."

So, I say over my shoulder, "Thanks."

A couple minutes of me oohing and aahing at the nifty tops, I hear grunts and shuffling and some very shallow breathing. For a good minute or more. (A minute is hecka fecking long when you're standing still and trying to discern what the hell kind of noise you're hearing.)

My response: ...No. That can't be right. I must be hearing this wrong.

I plaster my ear against the stall, my eyes gradually de-chinky-fying themselves into: O.O

Because, yes. Yes, I am hearing some fast-paced shallow breaths. And, sweetheart, I do not think it requires that much physical effort to change clothes. Unless you're morbidly obese and attempting to change through ten outfits in like 2 minutes.

If you want to masturbate, be my guest. It's healthy. But, holy crap, I did not need the auditory evidence of some random guy's masturbation time.

Totally squicked out. I finished changing, grabbed my shit, and was out of there. I took my time browsing because... I so didn't want to put a face to the heavy breathing. Ew.

I went back once I picked out some other stuff (like 20 minutes later; that's enough time, right? Right? Surely, a guy only needs a few minutes to do his business, then head out?). To my intense relief, the guy was gone. No one on the right side of the stalls.

My following dilemma was: But wait. What stall did I have previously?

Since I'm not a fan of smelling or seeing jizz on zee floor of public fitting rooms, or on the walls, I slid into a stall on the left side.

And that ended my adventure with the Target exhibitionist.

Careful, kiddies. That shallow breathing can haunt you at night when you least expect it.