sunday is ok

July 13, 2008

Is it really the midwest in me that makes me polite, that makes me ask people questions and listen to their stories and do them a favor and remember that their parents were just in town?  Or is it that I’m just curious or wanna deflect attention from myself.  Hmmm . . . I will leave off on this here, at least for now.

My goodness it’s hot. And to that I say right the fuck on; ’bout time you got your sexy ass over here, summer. I’m at a favorite coffee shop in the epicenter of Portland hipsterism, watching girls in tank tops and flip flops and guys in shorts and t-shirts walk by.  I’ve spotted some cool dykes, even an honest-to-god butch, as well as another butch looking one wearing a straw cowboy hat.  There’s all manner of cool dudes.  Ones wearing straw fedoras and black sunglasses, ones in cut off cowboy shirts from Goodwill, and ones sporting full arm sleeve tats framed by their wife-beaters.  There is alot of bare and it can so many girls so distracting.  The cool kids are rolling through the 4-way stop on their fixies.  No helmets, of course. I almost feel like a milk shake, but Portland’s too cool to have anything like a DQ a Tastee Freeze nearby.

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