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f. gary gray, peter sarsgaard, alcohol, manchicken, commentary, actresses, motherbitch, michael weston, blog novel, harrumph, robert smith, amsterdam, cannibal, pi(film), gabriel jeffrey, webcams, wizardsof haute couture, octavio gómez, party, connie chung, gardolins,
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Before we made our exit, though, he called out from the Kitchen. He had observed my broken faucet and was telling me that he'd take a look reservoirdogs at it for me, that he was reservoirdogs handy around the house. "No, thank you, " I said, "I'm going to buy a new one." And by the time the words were out, my canine companion and I were in the yard. Bug man was still talking to me from inside the house, beseeching an indoor convo, reservoirdogs but I wouldn't have it. I stood out in my front yard until he finally came out as well. Relief. A hurried "Bye!" A closed door. And back inside, I think I broke a record for speed as I dead-bolted every door in the house. Don't get me wrong; my nerves are sturdy. But that was fucking creepy. Public places among friends, the guy wouldn't have shaken me. But this was my house! And I was alone!
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