Saturday, October 28, 2006
We sang dirges in the dark
Whitney and I frequent our local laundromat because it provides free wireless internet that is more reliable than the signal we steal from our neighbors. Sometimes we show up during the day and go inside to enjoy the Spanish soap operas and hum of the dryers, but usually we just go on our nightly trip to the Chev to get soda and sit in our car in the parking lot. There's this dude that shows up every night around eleven to mop the floors and dust of the washing machines, and he seems to get a real kick out of us. I don't know if he interprets our regularity as desperation (it's not! We like routine! It's on our way!), or what, but he grins and waves and tries to make us see what a real riot he thinks we are. Fuck that dude, I hate him. We're not friends. We don't acknowledge your existence, stop trying to chum us up.
What I hate most about him is that you know he's the kind of kid who tries to win over girls (not us, girls he really knows) by being the friendly guy. Not the cry-on-my-shoulder kind of friend, but one of those I'm-such-a-fun-lover, isn't-it-fun-to-be-happy, Pollyanna kind of assholes that is ruining my life.
What I hate most about him is that you know he's the kind of kid who tries to win over girls (not us, girls he really knows) by being the friendly guy. Not the cry-on-my-shoulder kind of friend, but one of those I'm-such-a-fun-lover, isn't-it-fun-to-be-happy, Pollyanna kind of assholes that is ruining my life.
