Take a picture, it lasts longer

You'll be at the supermarket, the subway going home, making that late-night run to 7-Eleven for Mike & Ike's, and you'll feel it...someone is staring at you. It would be real nice if the eyes boring into the back of your skull belonged to, say, Ewan McGregor or that chick that won the SI swimsuit issue competition. But see, those people don't generally stare at people, or grace 7-Eleven at 12:16 a.m. to buy candy (they have their assistants do it for them.) No, the one who's most likely watching your every move during checkout is usually homely, sometimes homeless, and most likely deranged. If you're lucky, they may gurgle "Yer hot," as you exit. Or ask you for spare change. Creepy, right?

And yet...I'm at the gym, and this gift from God saunters by. What do I do? I stare. I don't say a word, don't breathe, just will him with my eyes to look at me. Look at me, damn it, why won't you turn around!!! But, really folks, what is he going to see? A sweaty woman on the Eliptical who could be autistic or mildly retarded, because--she won't stop staring. We get annoyed, feel violated (probably why the word "leering" was invented) and still, I do it too. On the subway, at the supermarket, at the Shell Gas Station on 23rd and Oak....if you're male and possibly good looking, don't be freaked out if you catch a crazy chick in pajama bottoms, clutching a pint of Chubby Hubby, staring at your ass. It's probably me.