December 21st, 2007

screenwriter, Kightlinger, hate

Street vendors

So after breakfast yesterday, I decide to stop by the Glendale Galleria to see if they have what I saw on line in terms of flannel lined carpenter jeans for my dad who had his jeans cut to smithereens after the accident that fractured his leg. As I walk down the mall toward Eddie Bauer's, a young lass hails me down by waiving and exclaiming

Excuse me. Excuse me. (PAUSE) Can I show you something? Have you ever heard of the Dead Sea Scroll?

She has me hold my hand out like she's going to tell me my fortune and pours a small amount of salts on my palm.

How does that feel?
Next she sprays my hand with a spray bottle filled with what I guess is plain water.

Now wash your hands like you would with soap

Okay. Is this going to screw up my silver?

No, that's okay. Now, do your hands feel different?


No, no. Doe they feel oily now?

Oh yeah. Oily. Right. Thanks for showing me that

I go on my merry way.

Hey! What happened to you?!!
Was this a woman who selected me out of all those x-mas shoppers because she thought she could sell me some junk which, it's my experience, those little vendor posts push on people? Or was she hitting on me and, like a dude might say after a woman responds to his approach with "Get a life" or "Drop dead" or "Get lost" or "Go fuck your mother", gets over the rejection by making a scene that might appear like I'm some jaded birthday boy trying to exchange my duck for free, caring sex. What's the difference between a vendor like Premium Skin Care compared to the fruit stands, taco stands, paleta men, tamale vendors, churro vendors that a police cruisers can chase those guys away but nobody ever sees a cop closing down those mall rat vendors?

War of the pink carnations

I can't really be here right now because I have a slow book to read. It's gonna take me forever to finish. I just wanted to make myself a little reminder, as I'm always re-reading my junk to remind myself of how badly I can write. The creepy kids at the worm hole are acting up and the creepy adults actually stopping by to have a place to read in peace & quiet are complaining about the teen brats. When I proposed a solution to the problem, which I don't really think is ideal becuz it's more work for us, my idea got shot down. So It's time to take matters into my own hands. The pattern is obvious. Between approx. 2:30p to 6pm the brats govern computer terminals 5, 6, and 7. I will now make it my business to make reserving those stations, at that time span, as difficult for them as possible. This mission commences Tuesday, since Monday is a half day. Merry x-mas y'all! I begin preparations tomorrow. bwahahaha.