May 6, 2011

i know, i know.

it has only been three hours.

but i just have to say.
being alone has its perks.
when a plethora of guests are present at the marketplace, it makes it hard for the public to judge them.
when you're a girl, who is quite alone, and foreign to this place, "the regulars" lose their inhibitions.
everyone feels the need to play court critic.
and who wouldn't want to subject themselves to that level of ridicule?

there is obviously no food in my cupboard. or my fridge for that matter.
i don't have a car. or friends apparently.
so naturally, i choose to walk to the one spot that will feed me.
and of course that one spot costs me nine dollars and a few hours of sheer humility.
the one spot where all i eat is pizza and browning salad.
ironically, this is also the place where "that kid" from high school has found his "in". he's surrounded by like twenty girls. which just doesn't click with me. he's the mean smart kid in your chemistry class that refuses to answer any question you ask because he thinks you're trying to copy his paper. even when you're not. {matt randall, i will never be your groupie. you burned that bridge long ago when i passed with a d+. karma's a......}

the marketplace. what a joke.

upon entering said "restaurant", i pull out my credit card. and the following words are exchanged:

true story number one: 

me: hi! {friendly. because i have nothing against anyone yet.}
him: hello.... {no, seriously. just like that.}
[i hand my card over. he hesitantly takes it. and weirdly. it's like, just take that card...]
me: uh... [pulling away a little] i have never been here before. do i just....
him, [interrupting.]: this costs nine dollars.
me: yes, i know. do i just... [he hands me back my card, and proceeds to stare]'s okay. i don't remember what i was going to say anyway.

not another word was uttered from card man.

true story number two:

me [to pasta preparing lady]: do you think you could point me towards the salad bar?
p.p.l.: [she took me literally. and vaguely pointed.]
i look around...
me: um... okay so over on the wall?
p.p.l.: no.
me: alright.
p.p.l.: [silence. more staring.]
me: you know what, i'll figure it out.

winners those two; they should reproduce. their offspring would thrive.

needless to say, i probably won't return...
but in the meantime, i'll sit pretty on endless diet coke until my computer dies. for when my power is deceased, i will have truly become an outsider. and i think outsider is tomorrow night's special.



i like words. and you. write me a few?