Apparently I should stop going to the restaurant grouping near my work. First, there was Crazy Bra Girl. Yesterday was a much shorter, but much much weirder event. I was sitting outside at a different place, finished with my lunch and talking to my dad on the phone. I had one of those Sparkling Cranberry Juices from Trader Joe's (those things are the best thing ever, seriously) that I was sipping on. I needed to write down Dad's address, so I fumbled around in my purse for something to write on. I ended up having to use a pair of chopsticks that I'd squirreled away from the day before (they were clean! Still in the wrapper!). People wonder why I do things like put chopsticks in my purse, but I was prepared people. Anyway. So there I was. On the phone with my dad, writing his address on a pair of chopsticks, confirming the address, when I looked up. In front of me was a late-forties, early-fifties man holding out a small Styrofoam cup and gesturing that I should take it. I gave him my best "What the fuck? Sir, I've never seen you in my life, what makes you think I will take this cup from you? And I am clearly on the phone and writing on a pair of chopsticks. I don't have any free hands do I now?" look. He somehow misinterpreted this look as "Why thank you kind stranger. Could you just put it there?" and he smiled and placed the cup in front of me. It was a cup full of ice.