Some sort of a nexus for these people

It turns out I'm a magnet for people with social disorders. Some how I keep running across these people. Our lives run parallel and occasionally intersect. Like God is reminding me that im only a hairs breath away from being on a constant course with them. Now that's real motivation for behaving.

On these occasions we run into each other I'd say its a 70/30 split between on the road and in bookstores. Maybe that just tells you what I spend my time doing, driving to bookstores, mostly. There are the other times where its not an occasion but a series encounters, like my last job. One of my bosses, the micro manager. There he was everyday socially alergic to not being an ass.

But here I find myself once again thrust up against the pulsing, ugly face of the socially disabled. Today there's three of them. The fat ass and the two harlots. Upon my last visit to the bookstore he (the fat ass) was here. He's as close to a real world representation of Comic Book Guy as you can get. Greesy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, forest green polo shirt, a sweet sweet pair of jorts (no I'm not kidding) and two fat feet straining the tensile strength of his flip flop straps. The last time I was here he was hogging all the power outlets. Now he's talking loudly on his cell phone hogging some power outlets. I wonder if his mother knows he's emerged from his basement bedroom? At any rate, there he is breathing my air, flakey scalp spinning off, twirling away in all directions, mixing with the motes in the air. (For my next trick I'm going to write a sentence containing only commas) All of it caught up, playing along in the light streaming in the window. It would be kind of beautiful if I was on my own air supply watching from aprotective plastic screen maybe encased in some sort of a biohazard suit. Gross.

The two harlots I saw as I was driving up to the bookstore. They were treking across the vast parking lot, huffing and puffing. Lord knows why. At least they couldn't be that hot given the amount of clothing they were wearing. Then again, I'll bet a quarter inch of makeup can trap some serious bodyheat. I didn't pay them much attention really other then to shake my head and think, who are your mothers? While I was signing onto the wifi network tweedle skank and skankier showed up at the coffee shop I was situated at. They were carrying on like they were on cellphones. So freakin loud. I found out they're from Seattle and are so glad to find a Seattle's Best Coffee shop in the area. I honstly thought they might be a little drunk they were so loud. Meanwhile I give them a sideways stinkeye hoping to shame them into submission. If only... Here's the really annoying/embarrassing part: I get up to buy some water, while I'm waiting for the salesman I hear, "hey do you need a bandaid?", I turned to my right, the blonde one was looking at me, skank mode fully deployed. I was waiting for her to drop a pen and do a bend and snap but instead I said, "Excuse me?", pointing to my arm she reponded"I said, did you need a bandaid? cause you're all cut up" I looked down at my arm back at them, noting the latin chick's tatoo and bra strap hanging past her shoulder. I turned back to the salesmen, made the ookkaaaayy eyes at the guy and paid, turned around and while heading back to my seat the blonde one shouted, "I was just complimenting your hot body." What the hell? Who does that? I wanted to pop right out of existence right then.

That's just my latest interaction with the shambling masses of humanity, bent on proving they're just as stupid as they look. Look at Comic Book Guy, he's still there breathing my air, yeeaahhuuuh.