Tumblr. iPhone4. @mall
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13-05-2011, 08:18 PM (This post was last modified: 13-05-2011 08:24 PM by 13mentaculus.)
Tumblr. iPhone4. @mall
I’m sitting in the middle of the food court. I’m wearing bright purple, and I’m sitting alone, so I probably stick out like a sore thumb.

I have my interview pad open, my wallet out, and a bottle of water on a table that seats six to generate the appearance of importance.

There isn’t a healthy piece of food in sight. I can smell the grease. I can almost hear the blood struggling through the arteries. The bathroom probably only stocks single ply toilet paper, which definitely won’t do the job that the food court menu demands.

I’m one of the only people sitting alone. I look around. Everyone is glued to something: their newspaper, their phone, the pile of grease that could only pass for food in America, their meaningless conversations, something.

Nobody but me is bothering to look around and observe the world around them. I take that back. A fat girl with several purses just looked up at me - she’s still chewing. I guess I shouldn’t judge her for exercising in the only way that she knows how.

It’s a pretty day, and it’s showing through the spacious windows above the food court. The sound of mindless chatter is only broken by the occasional scream of a child - which isn’t pleasant because of the echo effect.

The janitors seem genuinely focused on their work. Most of the tables look clean and are arranged in a perfect grid.

There are a few kids on the merry go round to my left. Each unit is riding a plastic sea creature of some sort, and a Mom is standing by their side. I only see one Dad; he is bald.

The light fixtures - which are off because of the sufficient amount of natural light - are dusty. Strangely, the HVAC cylinders look clean. They must be new.

Two girls just walked by me. The second one looked fuckable, and smelled like sex. Or maybe she just smelled good and I associate that smell with sex out of desire. I definitely smelled something discreet from the second girl apart from the first.

I see the front now. I don’t want to her. Instead, I want the skinny girl with perky tits, wearing a tight white tanktop with a black bra and skinny jeans, with a weird - but cute - haircut, who just walked out of the mall to my left. She was with a fat girl with blonde hair and black rimmed glasses, which matched her black outfit which I don’t care to describe any further.

If the girl is twice as large, then will she sweat twice as much on the way to the car in the parking lot? It’s a cool day, but still hot enough to cause a sweat.

A MILF, or at least a MILF to be (she is pregnant) just walked behind me. She was blonde with brunette streaked highlights and tanned, freckled skin. She was wearing a tight tank top which was a shade of pastel blue that perfectly highlighted her skin tone. I noticed a black bra strap, but I didn’t get a chance to see her legs.

A skinny blonde girl with a black sleeveless shirt, short khaki shorts, and a something shinny on both wrists is walking around. She might be of legal age; it’s hard to tell. There isn’t a purse or a wallet that I can see. She is definitely looking for someone.

An old guy sits at the table next to me. He is slightly overweight, and has small feet. He is eating nuggets from chick-fil-a and the gross, potato-y excuse for fries that comes with the value meal. I have no idea what the drink is, but I suspect sweet tea. His wedding band is gold. He looks lonely. I wonder how many times he has used an escort service.

I’m sitting directly under a large, cylindrical, metallic HVAC vent system supported by only six cables. The ceiling is painted an ugly light green that matches nothing. The rest of the steel supports are painted what I can only call a mix of Aggie maroon and brown. Even though I took four years of studio art in high school, my color pallet is still extremely limited.

I’m wearing the bright purple shirt - that I mentioned earlier - with light D1 Dockers khakis pants. The belt is a brand from Target, and is dark brown and thick. My shoes are from APT9, and are shinny dark brown. They are a size too large, and feature the long point design that I’m assuming is common for professional dress these days. I purchased the shoes on sale at Khol’s, so I don’t mind that they are one size too large. If I tried to run, then my shoes would be left behind. The dress socks would be too slippery on this tile flooring, so they would have to go too if I really needed to haul ass.

Two older gentlemen are now sitting directly in front of me - one blocking the other. The guy next to me just glanced over as he sipped his - probably sweet tea. He is finishing his lunch now, relaxing.

The guy in front of me has a fresh haircut and is wearing a grey T shirt that is two sizes too large. He has his glasses on the table. The other guy is still wearing his. From what I can tell, his shirt is a cheap Hawaiian short sleeve button down from - probably Walmart. His arms are hairy. He is talking, but I can’t make anything out. His friend in the grey shirt doesn’t move much.

A third guy - also old - just sat to the left of the hairy arm guy. He is wearing a white polo shirt with thin blue stripes, and his college ring. He has three tacos from Taco Bell, and appears to be in a good mood. His watch is black, probably digital, and appears to feature a Velcro band. His shoes are black and ugly. He took too many napkins, and his receipt - rather long for just tacos and a drink - is laying next to it.

Back to me. I have on an old fossil watch that was large when I bought it, but is now a little on the small side for a guy. My other wrist has a three-quarter inch leather band, also from fossil, and a blue band that I got for free from BodyBuilding.com. It is apparently sponsored by Optimum Nutrition, and features the trademark slogan, “true strength.” I am not a good representative.

Taking the place of the old guy to my left are three new people. It looks like a grandparents-grandchild arrangement. I didn’t know they made Crocs for four year olds. They are also eating Chik-fil-A.

I wonder how much more business Chik-fil-A would do if they would open on Sundays? Usually, capitalism trumps religion, but it appears as if the company is standing strong. They are a little pricey for my taste, and from what I understand they aren’t sympathetic to the homosexual community, so I refuse to eat there.

To my right, this entire time, is are five oriental people. I wish I could be more specific, but I’m not that cultured. They all have different drinks, and may or may not be talking in English. Either way, I can’t make it out.

A cute, petite, blonde dressed in black just walked by me. Her purse was absolutely atrocious. She is ordering food at a place called sbarro Pizza. She has an iPhone 4 in some sort of case that I don’t recognize. I can only see her back now. I’m not sure if the black, lacy thing is a bra or some sort of shirt. It may be a shirt because I think I see a separate bra strap. Like I said - she was cute, but for the brief second that I saw her face - I could discern that it was plastered on.

I notice another girl with a black tanktop and dark pink bra straps. She looks hot from this distance, and I think her brunette, blonde highlighted hair is naturally curly. She sat behind one of the rock pillars, so I can’t investigate further.

Everything is getting louder. The screaming kids are still here, but the four year old in the yellow shirt to my left is very well behaved. He is drinking Minute Maid Apple Juice.

I think of the Juicebox, and would like to go to an Astros game. I remember that going to baseball games require money, and that I have none. The sadness slightly increases.

The three old guys in front of me laughed briefly and loudly as I was in the middle of the last paragraph. I apologize for not staying current, but I have no idea what they where laughing about anyways. The hairy guy has his glasses on the table now.

I see the letters, “SU,” but the rest of the sign is blocked by another brick pillar. I ate at subway a lot in college. I had a roommate who worked there.

A middle aged couple just got up and left. She looked slightly fuckable. She was wearing a black polo shirt from an Audi dealership, and he was wearing a bright orange polo shirt - different fabric - from a Ford dealership. White and khaki pants, respectively. I didn’t take note of the shoes.

My bottle of Dasani water, $1.61 after tax from - I forgot which eatery I bought it from - is almost empty. The kid in the yellow shirt is eating ice cream with a straw.

The old guy in the white polo shirt is definitely wearing a digital watch. We agree on the time - at least within sixty seconds - but he is using military time. He is skinny and looks tall, but if he is ex-military, his physical prowess had definitely already left him.

To my back left is a guy wearing blue jeans, brown boots, a brown belt, a colored long sleeved shirt with a brown Indiana Jones hat. He is a ginger, and is wearing glasses. I’ve had to turn several times to tell you this, so I can’t tell you more. Eventually everyone figures out that there are being stared at.

A petite brunette with short hair, white sunglasses, and a teal blue long sleeved shirt just walked passed me. Her purse is either Coach, or imitation Coach. Her jeans shorts are really short, and her legs look good. I can tell she has a nice ass even though she is wearing oversized pants. She probably does that to reduce the staring. With me, it is not effective. She is alone and is ordering from Oishi Kitchen, which is directly in front of me. Her sandals are black with pink supports. She just sat down and looked at me. She smiled. Now she is on her phone, probably a smartphone due to the two hand thumbing. Her shirt is low cute and says AERO in white or silver letters. She has a bottle of pepsi and is using a fork and a knife. Her earrings and her necklace are cute. Her skin looks immaculate. She is really cute, and even though I known look semi-descent today, I don’t have the balls to approach her. She isn’t working here - or at least she doesn’t appear to be in “hurry up I’m on my lunch break” mode - so she is either shopping alone or waiting for a friend. She is probably shopping for a gift for her boyfriend, so I’m better off staying put.

She is eating noodles of some sort, and is doing it very neatly. Even though she is in my natural line of sight, I don’t think I can look more without it being obvious.

Ginger Indiana Jones and the family to my left are gone now. The three old guys and the oriental family to my right are still here.

God that girl is fucking cute. An old guy walks past her and coughs loudly. She looks up at him and makes a weird face. It’s still cute though. I think Darryl has a crush.

In my diagonal line of sight to my left - the cute girl is on the right - a couple is talking, not eating. He is wearing a preppy shirt with jeans, and is larger than she is. She looks tiny, has long brunette hair with blonde highlights, is wearing a grey shirt, black pants, and black high heels. Her back is to me so I can’t tell if she’s hot or not.

I can tell you that a semi-cute girl with a lime green T-shirt and tight jeans just walked across the court. Her hair was in a pony tail. I don’t notice anything else, but the oriental groups just left. They took all of their trash, which is commendable.

I think I just caught the cute girl looking at me. If she knew what I was typing, then would she be more or less inclined to say something?

I see a bald guy in a white, blue stripped (vertical) button shirt, and a guy with straight, middle parted hair in a red polo.

The cute girl is typing horizontally on her - definitely a smartphone. I don’t think it’s an iPhone though.

The old guys in front of me just stood up. They all look goofy, and they leave some napkins. Two were dressed for what might pass as business casual. The other guy - the hairy guy - didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

I see a different couple eating and talking. It’s Chik-fil-A again, but the girl is wearing a tight white polo shirt and I can see her bra and the shirt tags through it. For some reason, I find that hot. She is blonde and has her hair in a pony tail. Black sunglasses are on her head.

The cute girl finishes her food, cleans up, and takes the long way around the court. She walks directly behind me on her way out of the door. I don’t smell her - regrettably - but she still had her pepsi. I also didn’t notice if she looked at me on her way behind me. Again, I didn’t have the balls to look, and she took me off guard with that sharp turn. There was no reason for her to take that route to the exit. It’s almost as if she wanted me to know, “hey buddy, I was eye fucking you too.”

One night stands. Dammit.

The bald guy and the red polo shirt guy are gone now too. So is the couple with the girl in the white polo. I didn’t get around to describing the guy. My apologies.

The other couple is still talking. She has a Victoria’s Secret bag on the table. Her purse is in her lap. He has a weird silver bracelet on his left wrist, and I think I just caught him looking at me. They just left. They were eating, after all. He carried away the food tray. As for her looks, she appeared well kept, but not my cup of tea.

Is it weird that I use that expression even if I don’t drink tea?

He was wearing preppy clothes, but he had bitch tits. If a girl bought Victoria’s Secret lingerie for me, I would be in the gym. Just saying.

The food court is empty now. I’m in the middle and there are a few people at the tables around the edges. In one corner, a spunky looking blonde professional just finished a phone call, and is starting another one. Or maybe it’s voicemail. No, she’s talking; it’s a call. I can’t make out what kind of food he is eating, or begin to describe her weird looking purse - or maybe it’s a g bag. This is mostly because a large woman who has been eating for three her entire life sat in my line of sight. It looks like Taco Bell. She has a Target bag, and Target is a good walk away from the food court so at least she’s getting some exercise.

I manage to notice a small tattoo on the skinny blonde professional’s right wrist as she plays with her hair. She talks a lot. Let’s call her Shelly from now on.

A guy from the Apple Store sits to my left. He has on a black apple polo that says “business.” His watch sucks, and he has a grey monopoly guy mustache, and is putting in earbuds. He had a wedding band, and a stand for his black iPhone 4. It had a battery case, but he has taken that off. He brought his lunch from home in an HEB plastic bag. I see a sandwich (which I still can’t spell on my own) that has lettuce and isn’t on white bread so I assume it’s healthy, and a bag of carrot sticks. There is something else to, but I can’t make it out. He is jamming to something, but I won’t speculate.

He has a wedding band and a college ring. He might be wearing steel-toed business shoes. I wonder if he would try to lecture me for jailbreaking my iPhone, which is down to 60% battery now.

I have a charger that hooks into the stereo unit of my car, so I’m not worried about battery conservation. I can also control the iPod from either the device or the head unit, which is nice. It’s a Pioneer, but I don’t know the model number.

Shelly is still on the phone. Her looks are growing on me. Or maybe it’s the way she is presenting herself. The large women blocking my view is eating slowly, and looks sad. I feel bad for poking fun at her earlier. My sadness elevates.

Ah! The other bag the apple business guy has is a bag of baked chips. I can’t be any more specific than that, but they definitely look like wheat or baked chips of some sort. He is middle aged and slightly pudgy. He is drinking a cold (I can see the condensation) coke Zero.

A total 10 with huge boobs just walked by me. Her hair was dark and she was tan. She had on layered tanktops that were skin tight. I think she was wearing shorts - I didn’t get that far down. She was wearing glasses, and so was her mom who was right behind her. I know it was her Mom because they had the same pretty, hazel eyes. She will age very well.

Another girl wearing a grey oversized throw sweater and black spandex walked in front of me. She walks as if she knows everyone wants to fuck her, present company included. She had curly hair and a pretty watch. Her hair was black, and intentionally curled. My description of her doesn’t do her justice.

Shelly is gone. I didn’t get to see her leave.

Black spandex girl walks by again. Gorgeous facial features. Blue eyes. Red lips. Tan skin. Small breasts - which I prefer, and a curvy body.

I’m horny but my dick doesn’t respond. I blame the Prozac, or the klonopin, or the adderall, or the diet pills, or something other than the probable cause: a natural deficiency.

My parents were married for five years before I was conceived. In middle school, kids got tired of calling me fat so they switched to Sterile Darryl. At the time, it bothered me even though I had no idea what it meant. I was very sheltered. Now, I wouldn’t mind if every shot I fired was a blank. In fact, if I ever obtain the funds, every shot I fire WILL be a blank.

Anyways, maybe I need Viagra or Cialis. I wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to either, unless the prescribing doctor or nurse was really hot. I could deal with a hot pharmacist, especially if I were her last customer of the day! At least she’d know I’d be ready.

How long have I been here? Do these people have any idea that I’m completely insane?

A blonde girl walks by to my far left. I notice nothing except for her bouncing tits. Her top was strapless on the right side, but the internal support must be phenomenal because only the unexposed part of her breasts bounced.

The large Target woman finally leaves. She takes all of her trash and leaves the mall. I hope she has a good day.

I see two girls walking by that I probably shouldn’t be looking at, so I’ll skip the description.

There is a preppy, semi muscular guy sitting almost to my right, talking on a black iPhone 4. He has been there for quite some time, but I failed to mention him. And now he’s gone. He was wearing a green wristband that I couldn’t read.

My feet are constantly moving, especially the left one. I can never be completely still. I have an application for Cinemark filled out in front of me. They aren’t hiring; they’re his accepting applications. The form is horribly designed, and is either a fourth or fifth generation copy. The text is crooked as well, which bothers me more than anything. It is supposed to be a front and back form on a single page, but it is instead a two page form stapled together with the back side facing out.

“Information in this column must be fully completed, even if employment history is supplemented by a resumè.” Fuck you. Your HR people are lazy, and they design forms poorly. I’m leaving it blank. I probably won’t even turn it in - they’d never hire me.

My water is almost complete gone, and I have to pee. My legs twitch more. For the first time in my life, I’m comfortable wearing dress clothing. Being in good physical shape is empowering. Battery life is fifty-two percent.

There are two party balloons that I can see on the ceiling. I can’t read them.

I don’t see any hot girls, and there aren’t any interesting people around me. Apple Business guy is still there, but he is glued to his phone. The same could be said for me, but I’m looking up and around a lot; he is not.

There is a character sitting behind me. Late twenties, fat, nasty long hair with a huge grey shirt. He is writing something in a three-ring binder. There is a bottle of Sprite on his table, and he is sitting alone. I’d like to tell you more, but like I said, he is sitting directly behind me. I can’t judge too harshly though; he probably has a job.

What to do next. I could go back up the escalator and turn in the Cinemark application. I could go back to Fossil and talk to then again. I could visit the Apple store and let them politely decline me again. I could go shopping - but that requires money.

I’m so fucked. I feel like I’m in a room with mirrors everywhere. My continuing failure of a life is visible no matter where I look. Closing my eyes is no comfort; my brain is very aware, even in darkness.

My middle brother, who has a premed degree and a DUI pending, has a temp job making $16/HR. It will go full time, he says. My youngest brother working on a mechanical ebgineering degree just came back home to start the second summer of an internship. $20/HR. A

And there’s me. Darryl. Bachelor of Science in Physics, with a minor in Math. Unemployed for fifteen consecutive months, and twentyfive total months since I graduated. The only places that call me back are minimum wage jobs that wonder what the fuck I’m doing there once they interview me and decide to read my resume.

All three of us in the same house. I’m the biggest loser.

I don’t know how to proceed. I need to get up though. I have to pee.

I wrote that today at the mall in Tumblr on my iPhone.

Yes, I know it has a lot of autocorrect and general grammatical mistakes.
And yes, I know I'm crazy.
Oh, and I'll give you uber props if you can figure out which author I am reading right now.

I catch myself subconsciously - which I guess makes it conscious - trying to emulate the writing style of whatever I'm reading.

I play CityVille, and I need you as my neighbor!
I need a job too, so that I can play CityVille less.
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13-05-2011, 08:43 PM
RE: Tumblr. iPhone4. @mall
(13-05-2011 08:18 PM)13mentaculus Wrote:  ...I wrote that today at the mall in Tumblr on my iPhone.

Yes, I know it has a lot of autocorrect and general grammatical mistakes.
And yes, I know I'm crazy.
Oh, and I'll give you uber props if you can figure out which author I am reading right now.

Stephen G. Bloom? And his book,Inside the Writer's Mind: Writing Narrative Journalism?

That seems to be the writing style I picked up on, reading you.
I have to say I felt my nose hairs growing, this was so long. And I don't even have nose hairs, but a sprout did spring I'm sure of it. Tongue And I was with you to about the first curl out of my right nostril, and then I quick scanned the rest.

You're a hell of a writer, typo's and mistakes not withstanding. (She says as an obvious English major herself. Big Grin Rolleyes ) You might consider self-publishing, like through lulupress.com. While waiting to get that job that pays you what you're worth.

Quote: I catch myself subconsciously - which I guess makes it conscious - trying to emulate the writing style of whatever I'm reading.
Cool. That you know that about yourself can help to make you great. Use it. You're all you have to be your own success, or failure.

I think you'll do well. Smile
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13-05-2011, 08:54 PM
Wink RE: Tumblr. iPhone4. @mall
(13-05-2011 08:43 PM)GassyKitten Wrote:  Stephen G. Bloom?

I PM'd you the answer.

And thanks for the - compliment/suggestion. Big Grin

I play CityVille, and I need you as my neighbor!
I need a job too, so that I can play CityVille less.
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