5.13.2003

 

I REALLY should be either packing or sleeping right now, but I wanted to get this out:

So I'm at Wal-Mart (yes, I went TWICE today; get off me.)...I'm looking at film, and this guy is working a little ways down the aisle. I'm standing there trying to do mental math (a skill I definitely did not get at Central, by the way) when he approaches me and asks if I'm finding what I need. I say, "Yeah, I'm okay." He says something else that I wasn't really listening to, and then starts to turn away from me...HOLD UP, I said to myself. You know that accent; this guy's from Kenya! So, here's the important part: I start talking to him, and I shit you not, within three minutes of the beginning of the conversation, he asks for my number.

Just goes to show ya...African guys love the Karen. Well, maybe I should say African guys who aren't the ONE African guy that I actually WANT to love me. Life's funny, ain't it?

So I got the guy's number (cuz I'm nice), and his name is quite a beast: Elijah Nyambane or something like that. If you can say it three times fast, I'll smuggle some drugs outta Europe for ya.

AND, if the fucking rabbits don't stop running in front of my car, I'm going to rethink my views about hunting and start sniping them from my bedroom window. It's completely against the laws of nature and the rules of statistics to hit a rabbit on a Wednesday and then almost hit THREE more within the next five days...which leads me to believe that Dead Bunny's friends and family are trying to avenge his death. Someone should tell them that although my car IS made mostly of plastic and weighs all of 20 pounds, they still don't stand a chance. So stay in the grass where you belong, fuckers.

12:41 AM

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