Oh Joy!
2003-04-25 || Lonely Avenue
Soundtrack � Jimmy Smith � Jug Head

So there I am in line at the coffee shop wondering if the hot girl in the parking lot is a good looking girl far away, or a young girl close up when all of a sudden, in a Hispanic accent:

�can I help you sir?�

Over the course of the 900 or so entries I�ve done here, I bet it would be safe to say that every three entries mentions coffee in some shape or form. Most likely, it�s me complaining that the woman did not make it �correctly�, or that it tastes like shit (actually, I don�t think I have ever had coffee that has tasted like what shit tastes like traditionally, and believe me, I know what shit tastes like. However, I have had coffee taste like tuna fish at one point in my life.). Today was no different. This coffee tastes like it�s been sitting there in the iced coffee tub thingy for a good long month and a half. I am very careful of what I ingest into my body at this point, so I am a little skeptical about drinking the rest of this throughout the day as I often do. With limited cash flow, and a short crew in the office today, I don�t really have any other choice.

Is it 6:30 yet?

Mysterious man and woman come out of apartment, he looks �fake�. I know he has a fake moustache on, I know it I know it I know it! They are strange looking, wearing shitty closes with not a shred of irony: Members Only jacket, flowered dress with big big big orange flowers on it. She is pretty. I think she has big legs though, which is okay. They are coming from that apartment building next to the cigarette store. I hate the door to that apartment building, it�s brown and ugly. I hate the little windows on that door. I hate everything about that door and that building that they came out of. I need to know if they live there or not. I have never seen them before. I watch from my stoop each day. I watch the ugly parade. I watch the black children buying cap guns and bubble gum. I have never seen this couple though. What does he have in that bag anyway? It is an odd shaped bag. Too big to hold money, and too small to hold a human head in it. Who is that woman, and why did she look over at me when they closed the door. She stared at me while he made a phone call on a black cell phone. He actually put the antenna up, so he is new at the cell phone thing. Nobody puts the cell phone antenna up. It doesn�t even work, it�s not even an antenna, it�s a little stick that looks like an antenna. She looks over at me, and I refrain from looking directly at her. I�m reading a book with my sunglasses on. I am looking at her though. Fuck, she is striking though isn�t she? Did she fuck him last night? I have that little panic attack where I need to know now. I need to know I need to know I need to know. She is older. Maybe 40 years old. She wants to be 25 years old. I like that obnoxious dress that reminds me of South Florida in May. I like her big legs. I like her disgusting shade of lipstick. I want to fuck this woman. I will fuck this woman wearing nothing but a baby blue Members Only jacket on. I don�t care about Mr. Mysterious Moustache. I need to know what is in that bag though. I need to know how dangerous they are. I need to know how dangerous he is. He is obviously an amateur. An amateur what, what the fuck are you talking about. I mean, he must be new at this. New at what, you are making no sense. It�s a fucking guy coming out of an apartment with a woman, what�s the big fucking deal. There is a fucking deal here. They are up to something. He has know idea what he�s doing, and she doesn�t really want to be there. She looked at me for a longer period of time. He hasn�t really looked over here. He has shitty, cheap sunglasses on. He is greasy looking. They say those skinny guys can fuck, but they always end up breaking the hearts of women. Funny how us fat guys never break hearts. I think she likes me. I can tell, she gave me some sort of signal with her left hand. I saw it with my eyes. She knew I was looking at her, and not paying attention to my book. The little boy, I think his name is Randy, he walked by and looked up at her, and then immediately looked across the street at me for some reason. Why would he do that? I think little Randy knows what�s up with me. I think he can read me. Last summer, he came up and said �hey mister, why you always sittin there reading, that girl leave you again?�. This summer is the hottest summer we�ve had here, and he comes by and talks to me now and again, and I�ll buy him and his friends ice creams from the truck. I need to wave him over. Yes, that�s it, I will have little Randy set me up with her! Her big black hair is kind of intimidating, but not as much as whatever it is that guy has in the bag. I guess I have more on him, as I am the professional, where he is the amateur here. I could figure this whole thing out by the weekend if I really needed to. But I always said I would not use the skills of my profession to further my personal life. In other words, being an investigator, I would never stalk a woman that I want to have sexual relations with. This guy though, he bugs me. It�s one of those situations where, you know the guy is an idiot, but he�s obviously doing something right here, or else he wouldn�t have the girl. The thing is, you see, and this is the clincher, and the reason I am a complete and utter fucking moron sometimes, is the woman isn�t really that pretty or anything. She just looks like she doesn�t want to be there anymore. For some reason I always think I obligated to �rescue� women who look like they are uncomfortable where they are. I have no idea why I am like this, but whatever. This guy needs to be killed. No, that�s not nice. Maybe he is her brother or something. Maybe it�s her sponsor, and she�s trying to get sober. The way she was smoking that cigarette made me want to just run in the house and never come back out though. The way he talked on the cell phone, with the antenna up, gesturing with his hands as if the person on the other end could see how animated he was. What a fuck. Why doe she get the girl? Why does the nice guy always get paid last? I found this not to be true at one point, but after a particularly grueling winter and spring this year, this city has been nothing but a Ray Charles song for months now.

before & after