Thursday morning angst

Fuck the internet connection at Small World--it doesn't work for me and the user name and password printed on the flimsy receipt is smudged and difficult to read, very similar to the password that Verizon provides where every other symbol could be a small letter, a cap letter, or a number. I wonder if some genius at Verizon (or at SW) might one day say, Hey, people seem to want to be able to use the internet connection to log on. Why not make that easier?

I'm also annoyed because I choose the wrong line to wait in--it was a difficult decision. Two older ladies, both with their wallets all ready, but the one I was standing behind said something like, For my first order, I'd like a small decaf Americano with whipped mocha chai on top. I gambled and moved to the next line, and was dismayed to find that this lady was on a dogged search for quarters in her seemingly bottomless handbag.

Thirdly, and lastly (for now), there's a kid in here who is talking to no one I can see. I believe he is Skypeing. I believe he should not be. As when people in public places engage in long conversations on their mobiles, I think it's rude or weird or socially out of place to be video chatting with someone in public. I'm judging him because a lot because I feel like he purposefully set up the scene with his floppy blond hair just so, and his unshaven face in the Bachelor-Chris style and then chose this coffee shop as the setting for his online encounter. These are the assumptions I make about strangers when I'm in a cranky mood.