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movies, up, black comedy, 1977 in sports, insomniac, intellectual, 1998, artisan entertainment, confession, commentary, relationship, skins, sales, dark comedy,
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I was hoping for a "no thank you," simply because I was out of styrofoam cups, and I didn't feel like entertaining... But instead, howard fong I got a strange response: "Yeah, we've been meaning to have coffee for a few months now, haven't we?" WTF? Whatever. I stumbled into the Kitchen to refill my own mug and asked him how howard fong he took his. "Let me go ahead and do the outside, then I'll come in and have a cup." Again: howard fong WTF? Sigh. So much for getting rid of him early. No way I was changing clothes while he circled the house, but I used the time to brush the hair and pull it back into a ponytail, straighten up a bit, etc. When he came back in, he asked to use my restroom. Took forever. Then wrote up my invoice. Took forever. Meanwhile, I had poured his coffee, which still sat full, even after I had written my check and handed it to him. Biz done, coffee poured, I felt I had met my end of the southern hospitality bargain and was ready for the guy to hit the road. Instead, he chatted, while I drank more coffee and began to overheat, no doubt thanks to the coffee, the sweatshirt over thermals, and the growing annoyance of the situation.
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