Drinkin' Coffee, Gettin' Paid

So. Last Thursday (November 6, 2008) I was sitting at the counter reading Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza by Gloria Anzaldúa with Luke nearby when a horrible racket erupted from the corner booth (not the Denzel Electronic Press think tank booth, but the other one). It was a loud-assed, anti-rhythmic tinkling of change being tossed about.

Eventually, the kids responsible for said fuss realized they were being annoying. Luke agreed with them that yeah, it was kind of annoying. I turned around and told them that it was really annoying. I also told them that I'm sure I could find a tool to perform a lobotomy somewhere.

To which brontosaurus dipshit said, "Is that a threat? I've got a knife in my pocket..." followed by more nonsensical babble from brontosaurus, who clearly did not know his asshole from his piehole because he was letting the wrong one run. I responded that I didn't mean to threaten (Who? Me? Threaten?), rather I felt as though someone who was amused by bouncing quarters off tables could probably be helped by a lobotomy.

To which Dude Bronto responded, "What? You've never played quarters or beer pong?" And another voice chimed in and said, "That's what I was gonna say" or something to that effect. And ladies and gentlemen--I have never played beer pong or quarters. Which apparently, according to Dude Bronto means that I must not have much a social life. I was, of course, forced to inform him that my friends and I don't need to put on airs to drink, we don't need to play little games, etc. Don't forget--I am from Wisconsin.

AND beer pong is gross. But I didn't need to go into the management of germs with Dude Bronto because I can tell a lost cause when I see one.

Anyway. He said that didn't sound like much fun. Then it began in earnest--the whole "you're just jealous" thing. That's right. Dude Bronto asserts that I cannot play quarters and I'm jealous. I was becoming flustered at this point (I do not have to deal with such idiotic fuckery as a genderal rule). So I told Bronto Dude that he should probably live in a group home. And Bronto Dude is all, "What if I already do?" So I was all, "I'm gonna call them and tell them not to let you leave without your helmet anymore."

Then he got pissed. And decided that he'd rather be a dumbass that a "dyke who sits at Denny's reading." To which I shrugged my shoulders. Because if he was a dyke, he'd surely be less idiotic and annoying--and if he read a book once a while, he'd probably be a whole lot smarter.

And I've been trying to channel my inner-dyke for about five months. Whatever, eh?

So then he and his little gaggle decide to leave, and Dude Bronto actually puts $1.50 (in QUARTERS, even) in front of me and says, "Try it sometime." I'm not sure what I was supposed to try: Calling his group home and reporting the helmet problem, being a dyke, reading a book...or maybe doing my laundry?

Who cares? I got paid.