So, it's Friday night. Me & the wife are hanging out in the coffee shop of a local bookstore (and here I will admit that it's actually the danged evil Starbucks shop inside of the danged evil Barnes & Noble. Hey, it's all we've got around here). It's been a long and exhausting week. I'm just sipping my tea (some sort of chai thing with waaay too much sugar...yummy tho) and staring off into space...

The first thing I notice is the painfully attractive young girl sitting one tier below me. She's leafing through some fashion rag full of emaciated models who somehow manage to look sexy despite their gaunt faces and skeletal frames.

Then, to my left, a guy takes a table and cracks open some Hillary-bashing book. He also digs into a large chunk of coffee cake. His slicked-back hair and preppy clothing somehow remind me of the generic minor character in an action movie: the one you take a quick dislike to...the one who gets shot first.

The painfully attractive girl gets a call on her cellphone, jumps up and exits, "Necrophelia Times" tucked under her arm. Less than a minute later an incredibly obese woman takes her place. She has with her a book on "scrapbooking".

I feel sorry for her. I mean, scrapbooking?

Mr. Young Republican leaves and his table is taken over by a guy and his cute little two year old son...who's been trying his best to knock over everything in the 'order here' line, but appears to be calmed at the idea of helping dad with a mini-chocolate bundt cake.

Over in the corner four high school girls are making enough noise to be heard all the way to the parking lot. They all have their cellphones out. It's a disease.

Me, I lower my eyes back down to the big slab of Charles Bukowski I've just purchased. The man had a way with words. And was crankier than me.

I feel like I'm in a Fellini movie...an Americanized version.

(First posted on Mark Is Cranky)