Two gay guys eating chocolate pudding

Veronica and I just got back from watching a couple of movies at the film festival down here. The movies that we saw were pretty good, Rocket Science was the stand out best. I don’t really know that it could really be considered “independent” seeing as it was founded by a division of Turner and HBO. Sure, it was the independent branch of both studios, but still, not really that independent as say, me making it with my own cash.

Also, the real reason that the movie rocked was the chick who starred in the movie (Anna Kendrick). Her character was totally insane, but she was amazing eye candy. One of those experiences that you feel dirty, because during the movie she may not be old enough to really want to nail the hell out of but she could be. Just like the girl who did the 40 year old virgin, the girl was over 20 when she did the movie. Totally in the clear.

The main reason that I am writing about the entire experience of going out tonight, though, is because the entire time was an adventure in mutant spotting.

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Then entire thing started when we wandered into this “Tropical Smoothie”. I knew something was wrong the moment that we went in, because the girl who waited on us was on her cell phone while helping the people in front of us. In her defence she was amazingly quick with a smoothie machine with one hand. I don’t really think that counts for anything in the free world, but it is good to know that if she went to communist Russia and lost a hand in the potato fields she would be o.k.

When she got to us she only spoke in low, muddled tones. Half the time Veronica had to translate everything she said for me. At some point it was decided for me that we would be eating lunch here. I started to object, but was silenced by the sound of my girlfriend ordering her food and a smoothie. When it was my turn I grabbed a bottled drink and ordered the simplest (read hardest to screw up) food on the menu and stood silently. Veronica paid for everything with a credit card, left the amount to exact change and we sat down.

The girl started the smoothie.

Then at some point while putting away the receipt that she had been ignoring on the counter and notice the less then two dollar tip. All movement stopped.  After a moment of dumbfounded staring she opened the register and started to dispense the amount of the tip into her pocket, paused, then looked at the piece of paper again.  She pulled out the money she had put into her pocket, looked at the ceiling, and stopped moving.  Her mouth started to make adding sounds.  Looking at Veronica in disbelief I couldn’t help but laugh, loud, and in this girl’s face.  It didn’t stop her.

Finally, after two minutes of me laughing Veronica spoke.  “Could… I get my smoothie now?”  The drink had been done for some time, but the mouth adding had taken all the effort that she could possibly muster.  This shit was insane intense work.  I felt awesome for being there when her mind was blown with not one, but two everyday tasks.

After that it was just an experience watching customer after customer coming in, placing an order, and not being waited on.  Every time someone would place an order she would just sit there, staring at them.  She had no problems running the cash drawer, or giving exact change, it was anything else that seemed to be way to much for her to deal with.  After a minute someone would say something about their drink and she would start working on it, get distracted and wander away.  She never once made an attempt to clean any of the blenders that were slowly piling around her and I started to wonder how long would it be before she had constructed a fort made of these things, sitting inside, looking at the now dirty blender roof mouthing all forms of higher mathematics, coming up with different ways that she could spend less then a buck seventy.

Our food appeared through a hole in the back of the place, amazingly because the girl had made no effort to tell anyone that we had ordered food, and sat there chilling for a couple of minutes until she happened by and dropped the food infront of us.  I looked around the place, I didn’t notice a back room.  Was this one of those Doctor Who boxes that got much bigger on the inside?  No, just a small cubby in the back with a stove and another employee sitting directly behind us writting with a pen into a notebook.  I guess that the pen was fueled by his blood and sorrow because every stroke seemed to cause him great discomfort.

Veronica wrapped the entire experience up nicely with “The manager must have the day off because this place is FUCKED”. It wasn’t so much that I agreed as that I kind of thought this was the greatest thing that had ever happened.

Fifteen full minutes after we were served the oldest man I have ever seen not dead came out of the backroom, through some spacial magic, and asked us how our food was.  All of the quirky comments I could think of passed through my head, mainly stating that we were about to leave, when I simply said, “Thanks.” and got up without any further comments, even to Veronica.

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Also the smoothie kind of sucked.

After that it was one mutant experience after another.  Quotes are as follows with as much description as needed:

“Hey, I know you!  You have been seeing these movies all week! Hi!”  A woman said, referring to me seeing my first, and most likely only, independent film of the entire festival.

“You want to wait by the man with the coral shirt.”  A woman point towards a flood of men whom were all wearing the same shirt.

“Well, you two aren’t even in line!” A woman to Veronica and myself as she plowed by us as we were waiting in what was probably the poorest constructed line we had ever even been near.

“Are the actors going to be at this screening?” A man asking one of the staff if the almost mainstream movie we were going to see was going to pull the entire cast to a random film festival, for the last showing implying they took questions roughly three times a day for a week, in as many as eight places at once.

“Yeah, probably not.”  The staff’s response.

“Would you like butter in your soda?”  The popcorn guy(/girl?) who didn’t seem to think what he(she!?!) had just said was funny.  I started to ask if they were serious and only gained the reply of, “So.. No?”

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