Monday, September 08, 2003

Having two spares is a pain in the ass. If there ever was a time when having too much is a bitch, this is it. I've become those stereotypical students who spend most of their time in one area ... doing work. I mean, I have frequent company. Which does not include Mr. Overhead Light and Ms. Vending Machine (frankly, I think she gained weight). I mean, my life would be exponentially more exciting if I could just bring myself to stalking a few of the regulars. It works ... until they leave. That's when the fantasy bubble bursts; when I realise I'd have to follow them to be an actual bonafide stalker. There is a regular that I've had my eye on. He's a tasty morsel of eye candy who occupies my time while I write bad poetry and discuss pseudo-intellectual politics with Tylenol addicted wiggers ("It's the shizzo, manizzo."):

"Here Lily, listen to this," one of them says to me.

"Ooh ... that's gooood," I reply. "Yeah, oh yeah. That's right. Jigga what? 'I gots me a fetish for fat women.'"

Should I be listening to this? Probably not. But was I able to stop? Sadly, no. It was either having this against my ears, or be exposed to the repetitive buzzing of malnutritioned flies. So time is, again, wasted away, while strangers are given lives they don't know about.

"Just look at the way he's not looking at her. And look how he holds his plastic utensils. She just found out he's been sleeping with her sister. But she's still trying to maintain that casual feel between them, that's why she has her foot up on his head*."

*Drama at the "Mentally Challenged" table.

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