...with George Bush's America???
Why is it so fucked up???
I go to lunch today. I go to this Subway store a couple of miles from where I work. I go there once or twice a week. And there's this young woman who works there. She's probably 19 or 20. I mean, she can't be much older because she looks like she's in highschool and she obviously isn't in highschool because she's working at Subway at noon on a Monday.
And she's pretty cute. And she completely digs me. Everytime I get anywhere near the counter, she gets a little bit louder and a little bit more dramatic about making the subs and she gets a whole lot more clumbsy--BMTs wind up toasted to a crisp; footlongs get sliced in half; those little plastic gloves are flying around like confetti on New Year's Eve.
And she's better than that. I've seen her work when she doesn't know I'm in line.
It's cute. I make her nervous.
But we've never really talked. Not beyond, "Lettuce, tomatoes, onions? Salt, pepper, oregeno? Oil and vinegar?"
So today, I'm there. And she's getting clumbsy and dramatic, and she keeps looking up at me, even though she's busy destroying some guy's Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki. And I'm feeling particularly good, in a wicked kind of way, just knowing I've just ruined some guy's lunch because of the love of a young woman.
I'm humming a little Chris Isaak to myself...what a wicked thing to do...
I get to the counter, and this young woman, while distractedly firing some provolone into the soft drink cooler, finally works up the nerve to make small talk with me.
"Do you know anyone named Buchanan?" she asks me.
It's the first time she's ever said anything to me of a non-sandwich type nature, so I pass on the pre-civil war, only other gay president besides Bush thing that immediately pops into my head.
"No," I say, totally being incredibly James Bond like in my suaveness and, now, almost uncontrollable sexiness. Subs all around me are getting lightly toasted just from the heat I'm giving off.
"Because you look like this guy I know, named Buchanan," the young woman says, putting a knife through the sneeze-guard.
"No relation," I say. Cherry vanilla Cokes explode from the heat! Fucking regular turkey is now smoked!
"I thought you might be related to him," she says. "He's a lot younger than you--like in his twenties. But you two could be brothers."
"Cut the chatter," I say. "And pay attention to what you're doing, for God's sake. You just wrapped and bagged your left hand."
A lot younger??? In his twenties???
Maybe I could be his uncle! His Uncle Bob.
When the fuck did that happen??? Suddenly I look so old the Subway girl thinks I couldn't be in my twenties? When did young women in this country get that cruel?
Fucking Bush's America. Everything totally sucks in it.
Time to update my blog photo, I guess.
Christ, I miss Clinton.