Buddies

I decided that I don't really want to have to rely upon the library for my internet consumption. This was made a little more clear to me after an experience I had on Tuesday.

I was sitting at a desk, typing for my new kinda-job. Which I suppose I should explain. I found a job. Kinda. I am doing freelance writing for OrangeSoda. Not the full time career I was hoping for, yet probably at least a foot in the door. Anyways.

I was writing. I little fat Mexican man came and sat across from me. At some point, he apparently decided that lifting his shirt up to practically his nipples would be a good idea, followed by rubbing his hands up and down on his buddy (gut) for about an entire minute. Now, I like lifting up my shirt and rubbing the bear skin of my buddy just as much as the next asshole. But MAYBE not in the public library. He just gazed out the window, and rub, rub, rubbed away.

At first I just stared at him. Thinking that he would probably subside within an 8-12 second time frame. But he just never stopped. So after about 45 seconds of staring at his buddy, belly button, nipples, and the gigantic scar that snaked its way up the center of his chest, I decided I should probably get out my phone and record him. He repeated the buddy rub at least 6 times, probably amassing to a grand total of at least 4 straight minutes of shirt-up-buddy-rub.

As much as I actually really actually enjoyed this experience, I decided that it was time to get the interweb in my own home. So I called Qwest and now I have one more bill, amongst a googolplex of bills.

I've decided that being a grownup kind of sucks sometimes. I feel like I have money going in 50 different directions every single month. In reality, that number is closer to 9. But still.

I wonder how many bills the buddy rubber has? Maybe that's what he was pondering, upon looking out the window and stroking his ample buddy, just how he was going to make ends meet this month. Maybe lifting up my shirt and rubbing my buddy will help me sort out my life confusions. At worst, it will feel great. And in public, even.