Babealicious

Well I’m back at the hipster café for the afternoon, having put it the maximum shift that one can at the transcription office: Six fabulous hours. Today I was listening to interviews from a New England prep school; there were some very articulate 15 and 16 year olds. I don’t recall being that well spoken at that age. Heck, I don’t know if I’m that well-spoken now.

Yesterday I tried out, for the second time, a café in a new independent bookstore that’s opened up in the Porter Square shopping center. This café is staffed solely by a man who I find so incredibly attractive that I can barely even look at him. Because when I look at him, I blush. Oh, and did I mention that he meditates every day for 50 minutes, likes to sit in the woods, has eyes you could swim laps in and sweet, sweet facial hair, and wants to go to graduate school in philosophy?

Unfortunately it is hard for me to get work done there because I half-write and half-listen to what Mr. Wonderful is saying. Plus I moon over his reflection in my laptop. I feel like I did in college when I used to make cow eyes at the backs of boys I liked across the cafeteria salad bar. Moooooooooooooooooooooooooo.