falafel is everything.

what?
sorry....
i can't comprehend the words you're making.
i only know about falafel,
and that's it.
i don't even care that this week is otherwise a pile of old turds.
i mean it-
so many slooooooow days at work.
for realsies.
the schedule seems to degrade so quickly when it turns into foliage season.
yeah.
our seasons are named after things.
ski season, mud season, blackfly season, foliage season-
you have yours and we have ours-
the thing is, it's all because of the old people from away.
yes.
old people love to look at leaves, so our towns are mobbed with rubberneckin'
elderlies who drive poorly and clog the roads and shops with their confused
faces and irritating questions,
but,
old people get waaaaaaay fewer tattoos than everyone else,
yep.
that means i'm reaping all the inconvenience and aggravation of a tourist explosion,
and none of those sweet moolah moviechecks.
ew.
the woodsly goodness has silver-haired leaf-peepers poking around every corner
except the one that i'm plying my wares on.
that's such a hard style when there's falafel to be eaten just down the road.
y'know?
seriously.
i'm manning the fort and holding it down,
when i could be dominating those chick-peas with my whole masticating mouth.
what a temptation there is to slack off and skip out and abandon my post,
and just shark-glutton the whole day through with reckless appetite-activated abandon.
huh?
no.
i don't do that. neighbors.
i hang tough until the last minute.....
you can't make that tattoo money if you aren't there to zipzap on the people.
obvi.
but as soon as it's feasible,
i'm out the door and headed downeast, to fryeburg, maine,
and those classic blue-ribbon fairgrounds...
...and into my bright and shining brown and beige heaven.
check the thor's-day-thunder-of-tahini-type teleport:

yes.
so good.
so soooooo good.
me and my more-cheerful-than-usual buddy beau brought it down hard.
and i even saw some folks there, too.
i'd managed to avoid almost all of 'em right up until yesterday,
so i s'pose that IS a good run of antisocial attendance to a well-populated event.
it's probably all because of the third falafel:

that makes sense, when you consider that. when you're there extra-long,
and it's widely known that you're the unfairly ferocious falafel king of the fair,
the chances of overlap are far greater than bumping into folks
whilst you're staring at the pigs in their poopy sty.
which, i might add, i'm still abstaining from.
because if it has hooves or ears, and it isn't chick-pea related?
that's right.
F* that and F* you.
real talk.
i don't care about anything but falafel.
that's why i'm there.
that's what's up.
and that's it.
*
it's feel awful falafel friday.
that's real.
honestly,
i'm also booked up at work for the first time all week,
so chances are,
i'll already BE feeling awful by the time i get to the stand,
in the dark, by myself, in the cold,
wishing i had a witness to my self-destruction.
i guess that this is the way it goes.
make a dollar, spend a dollar,
eat a falafel, buy another....
it's all really happening, friends.
that's the whole point;
never quiet, never soft.....