Thursday, August 11, 2011

Leggo my M&M..

I'm no Stacy London, but I've beef.

I know this might come across as judgemental, and well - that's fine with me.
This particular young man peaked my interest. He looked well over 25, responsible, law abiding, and pretty much sane...looking.

Now, he either has no fashion sense, and I'm ok with that - or just an extreme passion for M&Ms. Which freaks me out a little bit. Like he LOVES the shit out of them. So much so, that he had to represent the hard shelled candy in public, on his back, and in the winter.

Maybe growing up, he was the kid who traded his Reeses & Snickers just to have a 3 month supply of M&Ms. He might even name the colors of the candy. This might not be only M&M item he owns.

It might almost be his nationality. "What are you?" "Quarter Irish, English, and M&M on my mom's side." He eats them carefully, methodically, the same way every time, sort of like Dexter when he wraps the room before his kill with saran wrap.

Ok, maybe I've gone too far. But have I? Or has he. Deep down inside, I'm hoping that this jacket was free, and he just loves himself some yellow and red. Fingers and legs crossed. Forever.

I'm going to buy a book today and read. I think that'll be good for me.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Would you eat here?

Seriously. I. Was. HUNGRY. It was early morning, at some random airport in a small town in Texas, and there was only one place that was serving breakfast. I waited in a long line, only to come close to the counter to find a f'ing cowboy being used as a vase with fake flowers by the food. It was bizarre, random, and frankly, disgusting. Yes, the cowboy boot was USED. USE-DEH. And what's a girl to do? It's bad enough eating airport food, which is really just hospital food & 3xs as expensive as regular food in restaurants. Who's executive decision was this? "Yeah, f it - it's Texas, people like cowboy boots here.." Um, not on the counter top, on top of $8 scrambled eggs!!! Even though I had subway the night before for dinner, I decided that I had standards - at a small town airport, in the middle of Texas, that I can't even remember the name of. I decided that I could stand to skip a meal. And that I'd wait for my stale pretzels & warm orange juice on the plane. All in a day.