This is my life.

OMG.I stop by the gas station on Madera Road to fill up my tank and get my car washed. It desperately needs both. I have been driving on empty since Burbank and my car has been accumulating dirt and bird poop since I got back from Hungary (that’s right– 6 months, people). I go through the automated car wash, compiling my trash into one bag and listening to Michael Jackson sing “The Way You Make Me Feel.” A minute or two later, the machine tells me to drive through–my car is clean.

Summer has officially begun and I can finally see through my windows. Yesss. I’m thinking it’s a good day.

I see this man in red sweat suit standing on the curb waving at cars. I think, hello strange man, it’s a good day. I exit out of the gas station and U-turn to get on the 118-east. The man is waving his arms and dancing. It’s a little odd, but everyone’s different and if he wants to dance in the street, I’m thinking he should be able to dance in the street. I’m still waiting for the light to turn green so I can head back to San Diego. The man crosses the street and walks right past the front of my car.

Ahh, and then that lovely sight– his bare naked ass hanging out of his red sweatpants and jiggling in front of me.

My car may be clean, but I think my mind feels a little dirty. So unexpected. So wrong.

.

.

Oh, Moorpark. You always know how to welcome me back home.

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About Booki
"Somewhere man must know that self-perception is the most frightening of all human observations. He must know that when a man faces himself, he is looking into an abyss."

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