Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Friday, March 16, 2012

From the "Old people...oy!" files: while on my lunch, I head for the magazine rack. There's an old guy there already. All I wanted was to confirm something for a future post. He picks up a magazine with a big-bottomed black chick on the cover. (Didn't catch the title, but I'm pretty sure the genre was hip-hop, not porno.) He waves it at me, believing me to be interested. My preference for white chicks notwithstanding, what kind of gesture is that for someone to make to a public?

He probably thinks I'm a fruit. Doesn't matter. In five years, I'll have a woman I want and he'll be worm food.



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