Looking at Lara, I george w. bush pictures
jason o. smith, culture, 1984 1985 famine in ethiopia, deena martin, tupac tu, kevin connolly, fresh yarn presents, insults, community, apollo moon landing hoax accusations, cop killer, pictures, earl hamner, body count, independent artist, land grantcollege review, alice, danielle von zerneck, spoken word, katherine randolph, She nodded towards a couple which had plopped themselves practically on her lap and were now making out. “You don’t know them!?” I asked as the girl straddled the guy, her shoe nearly knocking over my customers drink. “No, they george w. bush just sat here.” The girl was now dry humping her older companion as they passionlessly made out, looking more like extras on a porno rather than a couple that couldn’t george w. bush contain their attraction. “Folks, can you please take that somewhere else.” The couple glanced at me distractedly, their eyes blank. They seemed to george w. bush be enjoying themselves as little as we were, yet they resumed their pseudo passion. After another interminable minute of drugged-out, sloppy kisses, they finally got up to move to a bar stool where she could grind on him to her hearts content. As I watched them leave, my disconnect extended beyond my reflection. I was an anthropologist from the future, maybe even an alien observing mankind.
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Looking at Lara, I felt amused. She stood, so waitressy with her upright posture and her ponytail swinging. Staring without my usual critical scrutiny, I found her to be prettier than I think of myself and younger pictures looking than I feel. A wave of affection enveloped me, as if she pictures was my child, and then I thought, “What a good kid.” After another second of staring I shook it off, reminding myself, “The ‘kid’ is you, Psycho.” With my indulgent analysis over, I went back outside to bring more gin and tonics to drunk pictures customers. The music was blaring, as wanna-be hipsters and clubbers on E danced to the beat. I grabbed two drinks and walked over to one of my tables. “Excuse me,” said a woman as I approached, “could you tell them to stop.”
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