At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Monday, October 09, 2017

OLD FOSSIL AND VINEGAR

Of the fifteen people that I knew there, four acknowledged my existence. The others pretended that I was invisible. In some ways I can accept the behaviour of one of them -- bulky Filipino with some kind of chip on his fleshy shoulder, whatever the 'F' it is -- but that is just one person.
Why were the others so pissy?

The four that actually said 'hi', albeit in one case merely a grunt and a nod, work there. That is NOT reassuring.


The others saw me. They walked right past me. No note of recognition, no nod, no blink of anything that could even be remotely construed as any realization that someone they knew was there.


I rather wish that I had sold their kin into bondage. At least then they would have a reasonable excuse for being dicks. I could name them, but what is the point of that? Doing so would be tantamount to giving them more recognition than they extended.


This means that the Enxxxx Karaoke Lounge is no longer a possibility on Sunday night. And on Monday dickhead and bubble butt infest the place. Wednesdays, one of those two is there. Friday and Saturday are too busy. Sunday it's the a-holes who don't know me. Tuesday, because of prior commitments with a friend at a better dive, is not a possibility.
Thursday, one or two drinks, in friendly company.
But only if I am tolerant.


On Monday, at another place, after three days of work in Marin, a rational antisocial son of a bitch like myself might enjoy a drink. But several weeks ago when I went to the place on Polk nearest my apartment two gentlemen whom I have known for over a decade (one of whom is notabene a man of the cloth) were less than welcoming. So I shan't go there again.
They can take the carrot out of the cave and wave it.
But I shall not be there to applaud.
Sorry, David.


I am getting old. I do not like most of you people anymore. You think too much of yourselves, and apparently I am too white to say "hello" to.
And far too un-hip as well.
And old.


This is a Facebook squawk, also a blogpost.
Because I am almighty pissy.


As well as white.
And old.




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