Why must the Japexican sit in the Barnes and Noble café wearing aviators, typing in hyper speed on his laptop while listening to a mix of techno R&B and Frank Sinatra at full volume using his wrap around headphones not wrapped around his ears but his neck allowing the music to project everlastingly to the dozens of coffee drinkers and magazine readers within this circumference? This fucking Japexican is driving me fucking apeshit.
What is a Japexican? You can figure that part out. Why is he a Japexican? Because he’s typing in a manga language at turbo speed like he’s DJing at Club B&N, a pipe dream for all Barnes and Noble lovers (a secret club that enters the tunnels below Barnes and Noble and parties all night. It exists. No it doesn’t. Rule #1 Don’t talk about Club B&N.) Kate said he’s probably Filipino. To me, he’s just another peson with no respect for others. But he’s not alone. And he loves his black fila sweatpants
I want to his headphone wire and choke his Japexican neck while I cover his head with the 3 backpacks stationed under his table. He has to stop it. He has to stop. This homeless blogger lives in Barnes and Noble or Starbucks, depending which is open, hacking into the wi-fi networks and blogging the latest in Manga comics under a super hero pseudonym like Captain Shaolin .
I think I actually hate him because I don’t have the balls to be that publicly disrespectful. Yet no one else even notices because the music in the store is even louder and everyone brings their own music playing device so they don’t have to listen to Mark Knopfler duets playing over the Barnes and Noble loudspeaker which is intermittently interrupted by countdown till the store closing of the store manager.
25 minutes later…
He hasn’t stopped typing for a millisecond. I wish I could match his intensity and focus. He only looked away from his screen for a moment when I turned on “The Boys and The Girls are Doing It” from the Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure soundtrack full blast on my laptop speakers. He looked at me through his aviators but his typing didn’t blink. He reminds me of a villain from a Jackie Chan movie.
He has also added a Jones Soda to his tabletop drink collection along with a Purple Gatorade rain and the leftover whipped cream of a Frappuccino. The amazing thing is I didn’t even see him go up to the counter and pick up the drink. Either he played a Jedi mind trick on me and prevented me from seeing it or it levitated it over to himself. I will never forget the Japexican.