Turn Your Head and Coffee

In addition to all the regular "hot gym girls" (see previous post), I've noticed a woman who works there who is very attractive. She is tall, strawberry blonde, and does a lot of physical therapy work with older people, so I'm guessing she is very good-natured. Of course, my favorite quality of hers is her giant bust size. My only regret so far is not trying to talk to her when I saw her in the coffee shop next to the gym. I went in one day a few months ago to try some iced tea, as it was an especially hot day. I saw her in line, and of course I chickened out and didn't say anything to her. What's worse, I doubt I'll ever have that opportunity again. Because not only do I hate coffee, I hate coffee shops.

There's precious little about the world that I hate. It's pretty much down to evangelists, 99% of rap music, and coffee shops. I guess I don't even really hate coffee shops, to be honest. I hate their typical clientèle. There's that certain stereotypical person you find there that just irks me. You know, the liberal arts majors who wear ultra-tight jeans and wear messenger bags like they're Congressional Gold Medals, despite never having been employed as a courier. I know it's a gross generalization, but these people have had a tendency to irk me ever since I ran into a great number of them while studying for my philosophy minor. Perhaps the single greatest atrocity that I associate them with, however, is free verse poetry.

Annoying and
Broken phrases that
Pierce
the
mind with their
pointlessness
Having...

Goddamn it, it's so annoying that I can't even mock it without getting pissed off. It's simply the shittiest use of the English language possible. I'd much rather read either a normal paragraph jam-packed with imagery or a series of lines broken into rhyme and meter. Free verse, however, seems like it was written by someone without correction tape on a typewriter with a broken return key. But this is exactly the kind of crap the coffee shop types love to read. How do I know? Because I've picked up the latest copy of the Silhouette.

The Silhouette (or Shitouette, as I've been known to call it) is the art magazine published by Virginia Tech every semester, and I've seen a number of copies being read at coffee shops. One semester, my friend and I both submitted our own poems, structured in rhyme and meter, to the magazine just to see if they'd get accepted. They didn't. You may be saying to yourself, "well, he's just bitter about not getting in the magazine." This isn't true, as I knew my poem sucked. My friend's poem was better, actually addressing the beauty of the Shenandoah landscape. Mine was about a kid who turned into an annoying asshole.

Regardless, the true reason I'm pissed at the Silhouette is that not only were our poems not accepted, but neither was any other traditional rhyming poem that might have been submitted. It was all free verse, and it all sucked. Actually, that may not be true. Some of it may have been truly good. However, it was simply too annoying to try to read through to the end.

Who knows, maybe it's just because I'm an engineer and I don't have a true appreciation for the English language. Perhaps it's a truly beautiful art form that I'll never be able to comprehend. I'd like to think it's pretentious crap produced by and for elitist latte-swilling douche bags.

Whoa, I really lost focus on what was supposed to be the main focus of this entry - big boobs. I guess they'll have to wait for a later post.