Me: The tall, unshaven, athletic guy with a fresh 'do' and the Atari t-shirt. Walking down 4th street next to Sawyers news on my way to purchase and enjoy a frosty mocha coconut frappuccino (sans whip) from Starbucks on the corner.

YOU: A self-absorbed, (albeit smoking HOT), late 20 something, brunette, ditz in skin tight seven jeans and fuck me heels, on her cell phone talking at about 9 times the necessary decibel level with your Fran Drescher with a pack-a-day habit voice about how fabulous your latest fiance is because he doesn't eat carbs so he should stay "hella hot" for longer than most guys you date.

While walking in front of me, you accidently put your heel into a crack in the sidewalk and the jolt allowed a fart that was apparently about 6 months old to make a break for it and escape into the atmosphere and enter my then yawning mouth.

The homeless guy in front of La Bufa and I think you should see a doctor. That was just wrong, lady!