My purse got stolen once and my Sony Ericsson T300 (and my favorite lipstick) were in it, and nothing will ever emotionally live up to that phone. I loved it and I probably love it more because it was taken from me before I got tired of it.
To be fair, if I saw a driver shouting out their window at a bicyclist, I’d also think they were insane (and a monumental asshole).
I did this once when I was a kid. Saw a bug, grabbed my hunter cat and hoisted him up, expecting him to swat at it. Oh he smashed it, and then brought it to his mouth and started chomping. I had no idea to expect this and was so grossed out that I dropped him (sorry kitty — he was totally fine, if a little disgruntled).
Now my cats are pampered princesses with no huntress instinct whatsoever so I’ve resorted to a fly swatter.
Yuuup, people don’t believe me when I say that my pasty white butt was in the minority growing up. I’m pretty sure my middle school in SJ was about 50% Vietnamese only, not even accounting for other POCs.
Now that I’m in my 40s with small group insurance, I, too, am more focused on the 63 year old who wants to go after big pharma than I am on some faulty idea of youth. Godspeed, my friend.