Never Trust a Junkie

A friend of mine once argued that laundromats have revolutionary potential. If everyone had to do their laundry in a laundromat, the argument went, neighborhoods would have a better sense of community because people would interact with each other more. Well, I beg to differ. Mind you, he said this across the street from the laundromat, far from his clothes and the potential for "community." Nobody wants to hang out in a laundromat. There are good reasons. For instance, I give you today's laundromat experience:

I was reading my Geek magazine, all by myself waiting for my washer to finish up when what could only be called a dirty junkie came up to "talk" to me. He asked if he could use my cell phone. I told him it was broken and only accepted calls, but didn't allow calls out (more on this lie later). I said there was a pay phone a few blocks away. But, you see, this wasn't why he wanted to talk to me, because he kept right on talking. "Why did you get that star tattoo?" he asked. I replied while looking at my magazine, "No reason, just because I liked it." "Oh really, I like mine too." He shows me a small star on his elbow. "I didn't get mine because I wanted to, though, it wasn't really a choice, but I like it now." So what is this? Is he telling me he's been in prison? If so, why? I know I look haggard on laundry day, but do I look like someone who can commiserate on the annoyance of forced prison tattoos? Am I now supposed to ask how he was forced to get his elbow tattooed? Or is this a way to scare me into giving him my cell phone? If so, bad plan dude. It didn't exactly scare me that someone was a bottom in prison. It made me uncomfortable though, so I just looked at my magazine and said "hmm." Then he told me I should get stars "all over" my body. I responded with silence. He took the hint and left me alone.

I bring this up because it's weird, but also because of the way I responded to him, which I both love and hate. I made up a very believable and yet totally cowardly lie. I said it as if it were completely true and looked him in the eye. That statement could have passed a polygraph. I am proud of that in a twisted way. However, if I were a guy, I would have said "no." And I would have probably said it in a way that conveyed "you may leave now," thereby avoiding the ensuing tattoo conversation. I think it will be a nice little experiment for the next month if I start thinking "What would a guy do?"

Anyway, here's a picture of my lunch. Lovely, amazing, leftover Thai food from Thai Silk in Long Beach. I think their bbq pork fried rice has crack in it. It's that damn good. With a Coke, of course.