The smoke ridden coffee shop was close to violating the faded yellow sign that read "ÃÂthis room suitable for 40 occupants.' People wandered in and out robbing my attention from the conversation I was having with Emma and jack. "I can hardly stand all the stimulus in here,"ÃÂ I said to them.
Nodding her head, Emma replied, "yah, seriously eh...all the people walking past this table - "ÃÂ "-the conversations carrying about at the other tables. It's like sometimes you guys are talking and I just drift off wondering what their feeble lives hold,"ÃÂ Jack interrupted.
"Feeble lives?"ÃÂ Emma questioned critically as she sipped her one cream and one sugar coffee while burning her tongue slightly. "I always do that,"ÃÂ she muttered to herself while she grabbed her tongue in a tenuous manner in an attempt to soothe the burn.
"Well ya, I mean, they just sit there and talk about new recipes they could make for their husbands,"ÃÂ he carried on.
"They have no lives beyond their patriarchal home life and their soap operas,"ÃÂ Jack said while motioning to the table of women with mom haircuts sitting across from them. "And they always complain about how they got ripped off by someone or something. It's like they think the world is out to get them, they complain so much about nothing."ÃÂ Realizing the commonality of his observation I snickered, "heh heh, I know eh? They're always like "ÃÂoh I was driving to work this morning and this sonofabitch cut right in front of me goddamnit' and then they grouch about that for a while,"ÃÂ I said.
"Oh man, have I ever heard that before,"ÃÂ jack chuckled. "Or that other one where they bicker about how they got ripped off at the local department store."ÃÂ "And the weather, its always...