I'm Studying You

Yo, this one is about girls too.

K-Doc stopped by after the Bills' game last night to play cards with me and the boys and confront me about wearing her sweatpants last weekend. We're cool, as long as I don't do it again. I told her truthfully I didn't see what the problem was, since I had boxers on too so my junk wouldn't be all rubbin' around up in there and I knew it'd be the only way I'd probably ever get into her pants. Not sure what to make of the look she shot me after the last half of what I just said, but I know the looks y'all are reflecting off your computer moniters so save it. She's legal.

So instead of going to sleep at 4am like I needed to, I caught the highlights of Barack Obama's speech at the Dem's Convention. Dude is mad diesel. He could be the closest person to a rock star this country has ever had as president. I like his charisma. I can buy into him.

The downfall of staying up so late? Having to answer the door in my boxers at 11am to an unanounced visit by the man I share some DNA and a first, middle and last name with. But he brought cigarettes, which makes life slightly more bearable on my sleep-deprived soul. I just wish sometimes he'd bring some converation with him too. Wonder if I'll ever be satisfied.

Gave dad some prints of the pics from sunday's dinner at his crib, which meant a trip to Walgreens to make more for me. Besides yours somewhat truly, here are the characters in the WTF-fest that became known as my afternoon:

Jessica; the blonde CWC I would french kiss a curb for.

Vanessa; a young blonde CWC who looks and sounds like a bitch but is probably nice even though "stuck up" might be too nice a way of putting things.

Sondra; a somewhat older cashier at Walgreens that I can't tell if she's totally high or has suffered one too many strokes.

Vinessa; longtime readers of this clusterfuck may remember her as the 18 year old (now 19) I dated for twenty minutes last summer.

So I went in to The Wall to make my reprints and caught CWC out the corner of my eye doing manual labor, so I just figured I'd leave her alone.

Waited in line, and no matter how fast those cashiers move, the wait is worse than sitting through almost an hour of Jay Leno just to watch your favorite indie-rock band that nobody else has ever heard of.

As I'm waiting, an Italian, curly-headed brunette catches my eye. She opens her mouth and her voice, from afar, smacks my eardrums. Vinessa. Things ended mad awkwardly last year, but I'm over it. As soon as Walgreens' Vanessa cashed me out, I u-turned it and made my way over to Vinessa for the best awkward conversation I've had in months. Nay, years.

Left that and, while almost sprinting for the door, Jessica was halfway away again, working. And damn if she didn't spot me. Eff that. And with all apologies to the many fine women I have been fortunate enough to befriend in any way, shape or form through the magic of the internet, WDC and this here blogjam of my thoughts, motherfuck that gender with a splintered broomstick.

I crossed the street for a Whopper Jr. (of course I'll take bacon and cheese on that!) and some fries at the home of The King. Ate my lunch and read the news, and comitted an error so fatal my eyeballs should have rolled back in my head, my testicles should have seceeded from the rest of my sac, and my glasses should have just glared my phone's white screen of death so hard past my retinae that I'd have no other option but to reset my life's microprocessors.

I went back to Walgreens to pick up my pictures.

Grabbed a pack of gum and Vanessa was behind the photo counter. Very nice to look at. Charged me for my merch...she speaks as if she's repeatedly been coached to be polite by a British schoolmarm (no offense to my great Great Britain fanbase), and I'm out. Almost. Curses; foiled again.

What's with cashiers, and people that gossip, or make assumptions, or just have to stir the pot that gets called black by the overheating kettle? Word, for real. Can't people stay out of the way of the stone that flattens moss?

Sondra, in mid-transaction with the typical Wall bluehair shopper, uses her "outside voice" to get my attention as I pass her at the main register. "Vanessa wants to talk to you. The blonde..." I'm more confused at this point by all the fuss than twenty blind lesbians at a fish market [Ed. note: No lesbians, fish or blind people are meant to be hurt by that statement. Fivesixer, LTD, assumes no responsibility for the potential damaging of your tiny heartstrings through the usage of a crude, decades-old joke copped from a porno mag he saw in his mom's dresser once, buried under other unmentionables. This disclaimer was NOT endorsed by either Clinton.] as she pointed to the cosmetics counter, and continued with "She saw you leave before and wanted to talk to you." Wait...Vanessa cashed me out at the second register on my first trip here before I talked to Vinessa, and Vanessa cashed me out my second time here back at the photo counter just then. And as confusing as that sounds, it's pretty simple to follow. If you don't, hang up and don't call back.

I look at spacey Sondra and say "You mean Jessica?" Yeah she did. Fucking weirdo.

So like a lost puppy I tail it over to CWC, thinking she might have something to say to me besides her standard, number one hit in China, "Didja get a job yet?" Ahhhh silly boy, what Kool-Aid were you drinkin'?

True to form she berated me mockingly for coming in later than usual, then lit my words on fire when I told her I was already there once and didn't see her. I told her I shouldn't have to seek her out. She told me that no matter what I said, it would dig my hole that much deeper. Sensing defeat, I fucked myself over dearly by whipping out the truth.

No, I did not drop trou, you pervs. Wish I would've, in retrospect.

I told her I cashed out and talked to an ex-girlfriend instead of her.

My take thus far? This chick is most likely single again, and the only thing keeping me from moving beyond the current customer/cashier relationship is my lack of employment. But I do know most all of what she's up to this holiday weekend now. The woman is crazy...but there I am, perpetuating the nonsense.

I shoulda just told young Vinessa to call me some time and iron that shit out.

Anyway, stay safe kids. Your B loves ya dearly. Enjoy the holiday.