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Nice to Meet You, My Name is Chopped Liver

I have had a really crappy day. -.-

As you're probably aware, moving is pretty stressful, particularly when you're a first-time home buyer. So I'm pretty frazzled to begin with, and I have a lot of stuff that needs to get done specifically between now and Tuesday night. In an effort to take some pressure off of myself, and because I was sitting around twiddling my thumbs at work anyway, I took off the afternoon, with the plan of going over to B&N to get some NeverNever and Suburban Jungle scripting done in the café while Laurie finished off her day.

Once there, I was assaulted by morose music, just the thing to perk me up. ¬.¬ Things like "The Way We Were (Suicide-Inducing Remix)" and "Baby, It's You (I Hate Life Edition)". I managed to block this out as best I could and start working, only pausing to repeatedly clean up my frappuccino which for some reason had taken to splorking out around the lid every time I touched it. About fifteen, twenty minutes into this, a pair of what appeared to be wanna-be-intellectuals without any real mental chops showed up and chose the table next to me.

Now you have to realize, in D.C., especially in Tysons, everybody is more important than you. That's just the basic level of rude arrogance that you expect from anyone you encounter. But these two poseurs managed to transcend that and got to the level of "we're so important that you don't exist." First the guy bonked my table while I was drawing without so much as an "excuse me" when he sat down. That's normal D.C. behavior. Then he bonked the table again, nearly knocking it over while laughing like a asthmatic donkey and waving his arms in the air about some comment regarding Sinclair Lewis that he apparently thought was terribly witty.

All without noticing me, of course.

I shifted my table away from the pair of them, erased the errant marks on my script, and started again, trying to block out their loud (and getting louder) conversation, although I was vaguely amused when one of them said, "Wait, what does 'dys ... dystopia' mean?" This only emboldened him to make broader gestures, hitting my table again, while the music shuffled up "Baby, It's You (I Hate Life Edition)" the second time in fifteen minutes.

It was at that point I gave up on B&N. I cleaned up the latest spill from my now half-full frappuccino (Me: "How can you be spilling when you're only half full?" Drink: "*splorch*") and stalked out, muttering under my breath. I drove myself home, changed out of the neck-too-tight work shirt, and sat down in the living room, pulling out the NeverNever scripting notebook again. Absentmindedly, I noticed that my 1/3-full frappuccino had separated a bit, so without thinking, I swirled it around the bottom of the cup.

Frappuccino came shooting out around the edges of the lid like a mocha volcano. -.-

It was at this point that I gave up today as a bad idea. I am now going to go take a nap for half an hour, or at least attempt to.

Strips written? Three.

I have had a really crappy day. -.-

-The Gneech

EDIT: Nap get. Attitude reboot. I think I can face the rest of the day now. ^.^' Sleep gooood.



Mar. 26th, 2007 07:20 pm (UTC)
Wow. You should have taken the drink back. It was obviously defective. As well as the man.

I'd invite you out to the country where people say, "excuse me" (and then talk to you for the next hour because, somehow, they are related to you), but we don't have any B&N around here.

Or any good coffee shop, really.
Mar. 26th, 2007 07:46 pm (UTC)
I think the whole dumb day was defective, but I don't the manufacturer would take it back.

Mar. 27th, 2007 08:07 am (UTC)
I wouldn't be to sure about that, I just read that DayCo, a subsidiary of FlybyNight Inc. just issued a general recall of days recently sold along the east coast; citing that frappuccino lids that managed to spill even when the entire cup was empty and a tendency to burst into flame in low-speed, rear collisions (though not high-speed collisions). You wouldn't happen to have the serial number of your day handy, do you?

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