Time for another one of my "Oh Lord, why am I surrounded by these people" posts....
Yesterday, I got to class like 20 minutes early, so I was the only person in the room. I began sketching the Ja masks I want to get tattooed on my shoulder blades. This guy who wasn't in the class last week came strolling in, breathing heavily with his jaw hanging open, and naturally sat down next to me, instead of any of the 40 other open seats in the room. I suddenly recognized him as the genius who destroyed the vending machine last fall.
"Nice hair, Elvis!", he said with a laugh. He had one of those just too soft voices, like he had never quite gone through puberty, and he spoke at a faster than normal pace so that he always sounded like he was really excited. I pretty much ignored him as he began jabbering about motorcycles, the Super Bowl, and how he favored the Browns.
That's right, THE BROWNS. First of all, I don't even like American football, and I know the Browns aren't playing. Second of all, this is New England, motherfucking Patriots country. I have friends who would have broken his jaw for saying that.
This insanity continued for 20 minutes without me so much as acknowledging his presence, unless you count the grinding my teeth as a legitimate form of communication. He was still yammering by the time class began. The professor had stopped to admire my drawing while passing out name tags, when my special friend slapped me on the shoulder while putting his stubby finger on my drawing, pointing at the mask and smudging the ink. Then he shouted "My big buddy here is drawing my portrait!" and started laughing loudly.
Ah well.
Plans for this weekend:
Help a family friend move in Farmington.
Make a new mixed cd for my truck.
Vinyl hunting at the Flea Market in Brunswick.
Yesterday, I got to class like 20 minutes early, so I was the only person in the room. I began sketching the Ja masks I want to get tattooed on my shoulder blades. This guy who wasn't in the class last week came strolling in, breathing heavily with his jaw hanging open, and naturally sat down next to me, instead of any of the 40 other open seats in the room. I suddenly recognized him as the genius who destroyed the vending machine last fall.
"Nice hair, Elvis!", he said with a laugh. He had one of those just too soft voices, like he had never quite gone through puberty, and he spoke at a faster than normal pace so that he always sounded like he was really excited. I pretty much ignored him as he began jabbering about motorcycles, the Super Bowl, and how he favored the Browns.
That's right, THE BROWNS. First of all, I don't even like American football, and I know the Browns aren't playing. Second of all, this is New England, motherfucking Patriots country. I have friends who would have broken his jaw for saying that.
This insanity continued for 20 minutes without me so much as acknowledging his presence, unless you count the grinding my teeth as a legitimate form of communication. He was still yammering by the time class began. The professor had stopped to admire my drawing while passing out name tags, when my special friend slapped me on the shoulder while putting his stubby finger on my drawing, pointing at the mask and smudging the ink. Then he shouted "My big buddy here is drawing my portrait!" and started laughing loudly.
Ah well.
Plans for this weekend:
Help a family friend move in Farmington.
Make a new mixed cd for my truck.
Vinyl hunting at the Flea Market in Brunswick.
Granted we are trying to live in a society, but if some asswipe said anything about my pomp, ehhh. Just makes me angry.
Hmmm. My weekend you say?
Great great rockabilly show at DV8 that just reminded me I need to call the lovely miss Jolene and invite her.
Make a mix cd for my roomie.
Sex. Lots of sex.