I don't know how to deal with the towel boy at my gym.
Well, okay, maybe he's more like the front desk boy. (And I do mean boy - he's probably 12.) But all I need him for is towels.
I come in every day. And every day I need two towels. But he seems unabashedly unaware of my showering needs.
I stand there, looking at him, watching him fold aforementioned towels, my hand out expectantly. And he looks at me and smiles. (It probably doesn't help that he reminds me of an ex, beloved Bass Boy.) And continues folding. And so I try to come up with something witty to say, but always - ALWAYS - wind up saying something idiotic.
I just want my towels.
Why do you need to tease me so?
Monday, February 05, 2007
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