sunburned.

nobody’s smiling.

I spent my Saturday basking in the sun while enjoying the pompano beach seafood festival. I spent all Sunday regretting ever having left my house.

right now i literally look like a weather beaten leather saddle on a horse. This shit is fucking terrible. instead of applying spf whateverthefuck on to my fair, house-Rican stright-from-the-plantation skin… I rubbed on that hawaiian tropic crap that actually absorbs ultraviolet rays. Its like I bought myself a DIY skin cancer kit. for lack of a better description,. The whole process is sort of like basting your own skin with olive oil before placing yourself in the oven known as the south florida sun for 7 consecutive hours. i look like a piece of well-tenderized meat that has been left baking in the oven too long.

the worst part of this incident was coming into work today. everyone passing me by has either made a snide comment or given me that “oooh, that looks like it hurts” face. fuck you all, and your condescending faces. Even the lady who can’t close her eyes all the way clicked her tongue at my misfortune.

yes, i have sunburn. yes, it clearly hurts. no, i didn’t use sunscreen… if i had, would i look like this? no, i don’t want to slather on my grill any of the fruity smelling lotion you keep in your purse (that last offer was made primarily by the black women in my office. it occurs to me that they have little to no frame of reference as to sunburn on this level).

one dumb bitch asked me if somebody had been slapping/punching me in the face. no. nobody has been slapping me in the face, you stupid hussy. please die in a fire.

the current count of people who have asked me about my torched grill currently stands at 73. i predict that that number will top 400 by the end of the work week. The remainder of my week will be spent cursing my ribosomal dna for shorting me in the melanin department. why couldn’t i have been born trigueño? sure, i wouldn’t be able to get a home loan or shop in the rich people mall without being considered a suspect… but at this moment my life would be jolly and relatively pain free.

I invite you to put me out of my misery post haste and shoot me – execution style – in the back of my head. A gnarly brain-splattered death can’t be any worse than this.