November 9th, 2005

Coffee Squirrel

Big Bad Hair

I got up half an hour earlier than usual so that I could wash my hair. I still didn't make it. I was fighting with it two minutes before the bus came. I still handle freed it of all the tangles. I had no choice but to throw on my coat, stuff a brush and bandana in my pocket and continue the struggle on the bus. Then I stopped because my arms were getting tired and people were staring. I rolled the bandana and tied it around the front of my head, pushing it back from my forehead. Of course, waiting between buses the wind was blowing from every direction and my hair was slowly drying. I got to work and my hair was three feet wide. I tried taming it a bit, but there was no use. I would spend all day combing it and not get any "work" done (like right now!). Collapse )
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Coffee Squirrel

Old Gamer Dude

I was on the last bus home last night; The 84 bus that stops right across from the Arby's. The Arby's is two doors down from my building. I have made a bus buddy on this route. We chit-chat about books, history and games. This is an older guy. He works on a cleaning crew at the airport. He smokes. He looks like he uses Brill Creme in his hair(if you know what Brill Creme is, you're dating yourself -- as O am). The places where the comb went through his hair are molded for leisurely viewing. He's a very funny, affable guy. One night we talked about fantasy books (and my lack of knowledge of them) because he mistook the book I was reading ("The Angel and the Dragon") for a fantasy book.

Yesterday, he mentioned spending 8 hours each weekend day playing "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas" or some such. I haven't played video games since PacMan and Asteroids. I listened as he described having his character work out so that he'd be strong; having him steal weapons because in this incarnation of the game, you don't immediately have enough to go to the ammo store. I nodded. I felt pin-pricks in my eyes. He went on about how in the first version, you didn't have a girlfriend but only screwed the prostitutes. Apparently he thought this a step forward. My lip was twitching. Finally, he goes on about how the drive-bys are fun but that a dance you had to do at a club to impress the girl (a la Dance-Dance Revolution -- the only reason I know of that game is that a girl at UPS talked about it) was harder than the drive-bys. I couldn't take it anymore. I laughed. I snorted. I rolled back and forth across the seats.

"The dancing was hard," I mocked him: "But the drive-bys were so romantic!"

At this point he was laughing, too. "They were!" He insisted. "She *loved* the drive-bys!"

"Can you pawn your bling for guns?" I ask between breaths. "Can you blow up whole buildings?"

I was laughing with and at him. He knew it. Yet I was also having the best time. Biggest laugh I'd had in a few days. I wasn't teasing him unsympathetically, though. As we know, short fat girls with hair wider than they are tall should not throw Afro picks...

My supervisor is staring at me with his head cocked to the side. I thought he was upset about internet usage, but then I caught the gleam in his eye. He's making fun of my lopsided hair. Damn him.
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