Going to drop off laundry. No headphones. Standing outside the laundromat waiting for a woman with a stroller to move along. Guy in a chair, sitting next to the door, talking into his phone:

“No, I’m telling you … look I mean it. No, put the video in. Just look at it. No, really. All right, but now go to 2:09. Two minutes and nine seconds, what do you think I mean? The street? No, 2:09! Jesus, see? There’s this girl, no I’m on the street, but I saw it before so I’m telling you it’s there. There’s this girl. She didn’t sign, I think she might be underage. No, so we have to pull the whole thing, what are you stupid?! No, consensual! Con. Sen. Su. Fine, you get it, so what’s the fucking problem? No, we have to pull it. … What? What the fuck? I’m not fucking ILM that’s why I can’t just fucking put someone else in there! You want, what, Jar-Jar in your porn? Maybe Sponge Bob? You’re a fuck-up, that’s why. Just, fuck you, just fucking pull it. Christ, she’s underage. And fire whoever got the OK on this. Shit.”

And then I dropped off laundry and ran home before I forgot a word of this, ’cause … yeah. And luckily he didn’t notice me looking like I was txt’ing someone as I was taking notes on what he said just in case.