Monday, April 03, 2006

In case Yours Truly disappears from this shithole suburban wi-fi centre this perhaps is the suspect of my demise - 70-something, striped shirt, slovenly, has a really filthy iBook, glasses, crooked mustache. Walked in to work on the MCUniversity deadline as I have no *bleepin'* wi-fi on campus and spotted this - shall We say - character across the room. He was all crumpled up on a nearby sofa. As I got to work he shuffled over sputtering about moving things out of my way to which I replied It's fine. He laughed and is now sitting right next to me. I am shoved as far to the right as can be. Yikes and more yikes. Not to beat a homesick horse to death but in the Shiney Apple one's chances of bumping up against a veritable Mr. Creepy like the one to the east of me is fairly slim. I have my headphones on and he just tried asking me if I've ever forgotten my password and that he's downloading . . . something. Online porn the thought bubble over my head queried.
Onwards to my deadline of two back-to-back, enthralling portraitees.

Portraits of Love not appropriate for this skeeved-out moment.

*this just in*
It went away. Here's to The Perfected Really You Could Be Writhing on the Ground with Some Sort of Attack and I Just Really Would Not Give a Flying Phlegm vibe.

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