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rebeccmeisterI have gone daily for the past three days to the coffeeshop near my house and am beginning to feel like I live there. It's such an odd little place--definitely a haven for the hippie/hipsters of the area, who all ride in on their cruisters wearing their vintage, thrift-store finds and talk loudly on their cell phones. A good number of graduate students also frequent the place.
Last night, I carried over my giant Scrabble board and the guy sitting at the bar felt compelled to commentate/bullshit about the game. His claim that seven-letter bingoes are called "Scrabbles" made me doubt everything else that came out of his mouth, but I was too out of it to correct him and just smiled and nodded instead.
This coffeeshop seems to attract a rather large number of self-absorbed, self-righteous preachers in the evenings for some reason, and this particular character reminded me of why I stopped going to 3 Roots for quite a while (there were those people and also the copious numbers of Anthropolgists who were frequenting the place, turning it into a distraction-fest and popularity contest). I don't mind the enthusiastic hipsters (an oxymoron in Seattle, to be sure, but here, it's endearing), but the preachers are too much. Next time, I will have to ask him if he wants to make good on his talk and actually play a game.
Oh, and he was short. Like usual.
I would go further afield, but it's hot.
Last night, I carried over my giant Scrabble board and the guy sitting at the bar felt compelled to commentate/bullshit about the game. His claim that seven-letter bingoes are called "Scrabbles" made me doubt everything else that came out of his mouth, but I was too out of it to correct him and just smiled and nodded instead.
This coffeeshop seems to attract a rather large number of self-absorbed, self-righteous preachers in the evenings for some reason, and this particular character reminded me of why I stopped going to 3 Roots for quite a while (there were those people and also the copious numbers of Anthropolgists who were frequenting the place, turning it into a distraction-fest and popularity contest). I don't mind the enthusiastic hipsters (an oxymoron in Seattle, to be sure, but here, it's endearing), but the preachers are too much. Next time, I will have to ask him if he wants to make good on his talk and actually play a game.
Oh, and he was short. Like usual.
I would go further afield, but it's hot.
