Jul. 18th, 2005 04:38 pm
The only guapo here is in my hand
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welcomerain asked me, "What do you have the handsome Japanese peanut with you?"
There's a simple explanation, really.
Earlier that afternoon, I was outside the supermercado Del Rey at Broadway and Foster waiting for a bus. No sooner had I boarded, though, then I discovered that (1) my pass had expired; (2) my backup card was invalid; and (3) I had only one single and no coins. So I popped into the market for a few sundries to break a yuppie food stamp--just as well since I wanted a snack to supplement the Bear Naked which had been my only food so far that day. Of the El Guapo products hanging near the registers, the cacahuates japoneses looked the most benign--plain old peanuts with a crunchy, largely-unsweetened coating.
Of course, this being Sunday afternoon, the lines were slow. I was stuck right behind a creepy guy who was buying a dozen bottles of livid green Gatorade. He wasn't really that bad looking overall, but he had a nasty lascivious curl to his lip. The first time he made eye contact, any wisp of attraction drained from my body. The second time, I was like Please don't talk to me. By the third time, I kept as much distance as was socially acceptable given an entire family buying party supplies--including a honkin' big piñata--right behind me. We were slowed by some disagreement or confusion ahead of us, so he sighed and seemed to be trying to build some empathy on our common plight, but I would have none of it. (That's when distracting, rambuctious kids are actually kind of a godsend.)
It was another sticky quarter-of-an-hour before I caught the next bus, but there was milanesa de res at the end of the trip. Go me!
welcomerain asked me, "What do you have the handsome Japanese peanut with you?"There's a simple explanation, really.
Earlier that afternoon, I was outside the supermercado Del Rey at Broadway and Foster waiting for a bus. No sooner had I boarded, though, then I discovered that (1) my pass had expired; (2) my backup card was invalid; and (3) I had only one single and no coins. So I popped into the market for a few sundries to break a yuppie food stamp--just as well since I wanted a snack to supplement the Bear Naked which had been my only food so far that day. Of the El Guapo products hanging near the registers, the cacahuates japoneses looked the most benign--plain old peanuts with a crunchy, largely-unsweetened coating.
Of course, this being Sunday afternoon, the lines were slow. I was stuck right behind a creepy guy who was buying a dozen bottles of livid green Gatorade. He wasn't really that bad looking overall, but he had a nasty lascivious curl to his lip. The first time he made eye contact, any wisp of attraction drained from my body. The second time, I was like Please don't talk to me. By the third time, I kept as much distance as was socially acceptable given an entire family buying party supplies--including a honkin' big piñata--right behind me. We were slowed by some disagreement or confusion ahead of us, so he sighed and seemed to be trying to build some empathy on our common plight, but I would have none of it. (That's when distracting, rambuctious kids are actually kind of a godsend.)
It was another sticky quarter-of-an-hour before I caught the next bus, but there was milanesa de res at the end of the trip. Go me!
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