  The only thing worse than a used car salesman is a new cell phone salesman. Tuesday night, Luke and I walked into the Verizon Wireless Store expecting to be helped by someone knowledgable about Verizon contracts and worthy of the air-conditioning and new carpeting. We were greeted by a greasy, spray-on-tanned, gum-smacking slime ball named Christo. Christo!! Jesus, even his name is greasy. Luke did his research before entering the store. It was obvious that Mr. Salesman did not. His slime oozed as freely as his ignorance. Slimeball Sales Ass: [smack smack smacking the gum] I've never heard of that plan. I don't know what I'm talking about, so I'll just keep on looking out the window and smacking my gum. Don't slip on my puddle of slime. It was a most unsavory experience. Thank goodness I am too poor for a cell phone.
Thank goodness I have no friends and no one to talk to so I don't need one. BECAUSE LUKE AND I DON'T SPEND ENOUGH TIME TOGETHER, he and I ONCE AGAIN (!!! ) , destined to perish in the den of all evil, root of all sin and economic despair, went to the Super Walmart in Gates. God damn it, for the third day in a row. Luke: Where is the bike stuff? Me: The same place it was yesterday and the day before!
We spend so much time at Walmart, Luke and I are slowly becoming white trash. I feel my teeth rotting inside my head and an urge to procreate with a relative. I think I'll put on some Salsa music and read the New York Times just to feel better about myself. I am looking forward to my date tomorrow. If things go well, there will NOT be a blog entry tomorrow night. tee hee. Luke: There are worse things than having The Distillery as a neighbor, including not having it as a neighbor. 
