One of the great questions of mankind is what do little old men and rap music have in common.
Not a damn thing.
Except that I am stuck in the middle of prime examples of both as we speak.
On my left, sporting a dazed look and pants that demand both to be pulled up and that his mother (If still living) smack his stupid ass for leaving them down that far to begin with.
He also has faint rap music drifting out of his iPod.
And its shitty rap music.
I am not a fan of that particular genre of music to begin with, but the crap that he is listening to hits the bottom of the “Low rent” barrel.
Plus the kid has this dazed look on his face that I believe is caused by the shitty music.
And then there is the little situation unraveling on my right side.
And by “Little situation” I mean the old guy thats unraveling on my right side.
This guy babysat Methuselah.
Old enough that I cannot even gauge how old he is.
Old enough to have that “Permanently terrified” look on his face.
Old enough to have that vague Ben Gay smell in the background.
Old enough to have a continual head shake that you can’t help but see, even in your peripheral vision.
Old enough that I am worried about him surviving my cup of coffee before slipping out of his seat in a “Code Blue”, accompanied by the crappy jazz music currently piping thru the speakers.
Got the picture so far?
And I am stuck in the middle in my own little “Special” hell.
And the sad part is they are both bopping their heads, one to shitty music, the other because of aging neck muscles.
One side Ben Gay, and there is a smell on the other side that I have not yet been able to identify. Its either BO or AXE body spray gone tragically wrong.
Vegas money is on BO.
First of all, rap music should rhyme. (Old school rules. See also, “Kid & Play” circa 1984)
Second of all, who dresses the elderly? The old guy got up to use the bathroom, and his pants are as high above his ass as the kids are below.
Third, and final, I am not enjoying the new Starbucks as much as the old one.
The reasons are various, but all kind of boil down to me kind of whining about change and how much I hate the unknown.
But, putting my fears aside, at least its still a Starbucks.
Which means coffee.
And if this blog is about anything, not just this post, but the whole blog, its about my fairly out of control caffeine addiction.
And please don’t misunderstand, I am not saying coffee is a God, I am just saying it might be.
It’s the caffeine that makes me generally edgy and rude, which makes for good reading.
For me, that is. This is not about you.