Deal with this.

D and I went to Tijuana a couple of weekends ago to shop and gorge ourselves on Mexican food. Before we crossed the border, we stopped at a Taco Bell so I could use the bathroom, because as much as I respect and love the city of Tijuana, clean bathrooms there are hard to find.

(Incidentally, I really hate it when I enter a bathroom to find that the woman who was there before me did not sit down on the seat but chose instead to hover over it (I guess to avoid all of the germs she imagines will creep into her system through her butt skin) and spay her urine everywhere.

I have found that hovering over the toilet seat is a uniquely American practice. In Europe, despite the fact that there were no toilet seat covers ever, the seats were always dry, as were the floors. Every toilet was flushed, and there was always plenty of toilet paper and paper towels. In contrast, I have found U.S. women's bathrooms to be vomit-inducing. The toilets are rarely flushed, and more often than not there are used feminine products strewn about the floor. Motherfucking dirty bitches.)

So anyway, I entered the Taco Bell bathroom, did my thing and was at the sink washing my hands when a girl about my age walked in. "What?" she said.

Her tone was not an "excuse me, did you say something to me?" kind of tone. It was more of a "what the fuck did you just say, you motherfucking whore?" kind of tone.

The thing is ... I hadn't said anything.

"Um, I didn't say anything," I said.

"Psh. Whatever. You're just too ugly for me to deal with."

Well. I have to say I was quite taken aback. I mean, maybe I'm not on the fucking cover of Vogue every month, but I consider myself to be somewhat attractive. Also, I've never considered attractiveness a measure by which to determine whether I "deal with" someone. I have encountered many ugly people in my lifetime, and it has never crossed my mind that I shouldn't deal with them. No. I have always dealt with them, ugly or not.

The girl didn't say anything else to me. She did something in one of the stalls (I'm not sure what, but it didn't involve actually using the toilet, because she was only in there for a half of a second), all the while muttering to herself.

I walked out of the bathroom, and D. was waiting for me.

"There's some crazy bitch in the bathroom," I said.

Unfortunately, I timed this statement ill, because she walked out at that exact moment.

"WHAT did you say??" she said.

"I said you're a crazy bitch." (I have to admit that I only felt brave enough to say this kind of thing with D. right next to me. Hey - I never said I wasn't a coward, just not ugly.)

"I'M NOT CRAZY," she said, "and not you, him, my mom, my boyfriend or the lawsuit can make it true, because that's what I'm talking about when they take my stuff away!"

"See?" I said to D. "Crazy."

"I'M NOT CRAZY!"

"I think she's on drugs," D. said.

"WHATEVER. You two are DORKS!" she said, and walked away.

And that made me laugh really hard. Because, I mean, we are dorks. She got that right.