Thursday, February 28, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
The couple next to me
I'm going to describe this as I see it from the corner of my eye. Deal with it, because I am.
I'm in the library, and there is this super cute couple. He looks like an average dude, she's kinda cute. She smells like apricots. Literally. However, I feel like if Whole Foods opened a Bed, Bath, Bodyworks, and Beyond, she'd be their bastard child.
They are sharing an office chair. She is hugging on him, periodically kissing him on the forehead. When she gets tired of (bless you) hugging on him, she gently rests her arm on his as he pretends to type and be interested in anything but her.
He guides her hand on to the mouse, and as if some sort of aided masterbation ritual, they click through god knows what on the internets.
They lol (out loud).
Now she takes the keyboard, and starts typing. He's had an epiphany -- having just started listening to what she's saying, he now knows the answer, and resumes control at the helm.
He hunts and pecks.
She points at the screen, not 10 inches in front of his face because whatever it is they're looking at must be identified.
She continues to point. He mumbles. She laughs again.
The cycle continues.
They need to stop this -- because it's been going on for half an hour now, and I haven't seen her apply any chapstick.
Ahh... apricots.
I'm in the library, and there is this super cute couple. He looks like an average dude, she's kinda cute. She smells like apricots. Literally. However, I feel like if Whole Foods opened a Bed, Bath, Bodyworks, and Beyond, she'd be their bastard child.
They are sharing an office chair. She is hugging on him, periodically kissing him on the forehead. When she gets tired of (bless you) hugging on him, she gently rests her arm on his as he pretends to type and be interested in anything but her.
He guides her hand on to the mouse, and as if some sort of aided masterbation ritual, they click through god knows what on the internets.
They lol (out loud).
Now she takes the keyboard, and starts typing. He's had an epiphany -- having just started listening to what she's saying, he now knows the answer, and resumes control at the helm.
He hunts and pecks.
She points at the screen, not 10 inches in front of his face because whatever it is they're looking at must be identified.
She continues to point. He mumbles. She laughs again.
The cycle continues.
They need to stop this -- because it's been going on for half an hour now, and I haven't seen her apply any chapstick.
Ahh... apricots.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
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