"What is it you want to do?" - she says quizzically. "I am writing a blog about the neighborhood and I want to share it with you," I tell her again - she looks oddly at me and bellows - "Go ahead, as long as you don't mine me eating while you read it." I immediately start on popular post, halfway through I glance up to gather her reaction (there was none). I continue reading. Three quarters of the way through I gaze up again to gather her reaction. This time she was dipping her chicken fingers in gravy and smiling.
After finishing I ask her thoughts - "Let me get this straight, you bought some tamales at the laundromat from the tamale lady. What's so interesting about that? I do it all the time," she then adds, "Have you ever had any of her burritos? They are to die for," I tell her I have never tried the burritos, but plan on doing so next time I see her - "Well you should," she says, "They are a hundred times better than this shit," she points down at an empty Styrofoam KFC plate setting on her table.
I thank her for the time and resume eating my chicken. As she is leaving she turns and says - "What was the name of that thing you just read to me again?" I explain to her once again how I have been writing a reality blog about the neighborhood and it is called The village idiot of Las Vegas. "What do you call yourself?" - she asks again. I tell her once more the title of the blog, she then says - "You don't seem like an idiot. You need to come to my house - I can show you some fucking idiots."
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