Okay Gary. I'm writing something. I loved the way you put it about how long it's been since I've blogged. Blogged. Think about that word for a minute. Okay now stop thinking about it. Never think about it again.

It's been so long I had to really think to remember my blogger username and password. Want to know what it is? Maybe you can blog for me.

Anyway after leaving work today I took a detour to the nasty little pawn shop next to my local grocery store. I really hate this place, but they do have great deals sometimes, and I had a specific thing I wanted to buy as a gift for somebody. They didn't have what I wanted, but they did have... dum da dum.... LBM.

LBM is the owner, or at least he presents himself that way. He's a Loud Balding Man (not that there's anything wrong with that) with a very loud voice. I understand him completely. More than he understands himself, I think. Not because I'm like him, but because it's so obvious. First and foremost I think he's probably gay, but in denial of it. (not that there's anything wrong with that) He speaks with a much louder voice than is necessary. I'll give you an example:

Camera does a slow pan of a shabby pawn shop. The camera stops on a Loud Balding Man with a permanent smirk fused to his face. A customer walks past, and, after unavoidably locking eyes with the Loud Balding Man lets out a less than enthusiastic greeting.

---Customer---

Hello.

---Loud Balding Man---

: HIIIIIII THEEEEEERE!!!!

The Customer does a double take, and keeps walking. Fade to white.

Do you see? He just doesn't need to talk that loudly. I think it's to cover up his homosexual nature and inflict a more manly image of himself on the world. I also think he's afraid of people. This is another reason he speaks so loudly and gets his face directly in front of yours as he says whatever he's going to say... too loudly.

I purchased a very cheap little camera that I knew had an incredibly close "macro" setting at aobut 1/3 its actual value. As he was putting it in the box for me I asked about a very nice watch in the glass case. I asked how much it was. It was a Jag. LBM replied, "TWELVE!!!!"

The thoughts in my head went something like, 'Twelve? Twelve what? Twelve shillings? Twelve dead babies? Twelve o'clock according to the watch? Twelve little numbers and a minute hand? Twelve what?'

Presently it became clear (by the ginger way he was handling it and the absurd price sticker) that he meant Twelve hundred dollars. Yeah. Right.

No Thanks, I said. Nice watch though, I said. It was. But it was used. Used means I don't want to pay twelve.

He continued to wrap up my camera and decided to become preoccupied by the teenagers looking around the shop. These teenagers had hoods and this didn't please LBM. He wanted them to remove their hoods and told me so. He also told me they'd be photographed both on the way IN and on the way OUT. Teenagers didn't please LBM. I was wondering if it was because he wanted to fondle their privates. Who knows, and who am I to judge.

Anyway, I'll be ending this now. Just wanted to say hello and tell you that I'll be back writing some more, soon.

In about Twelve.