(no subject)
I have a suppressed disdain for door-to-door salesmen. They visit your home expecting a welcome inside so they could demonstrate their product on some of your things. I don't so much hate the visit nor the long-winded, auctioneer-fast, cue card spiel, but the time they decide to drop in. By fate, they solicit while you're half-clothed about to shower or mid-bite of a sandwich. This spurn likely sprouted from a childhood incident involving a couple of vacuum salesmen and a canceled drive-in movie night. I remember sitting in the car anticipating a quick stop at a fast food place and a double feature, until a couple douchebags come by trying to convince my parents to buy their fucking vacuum. Eventually it get's too late and shits canceled. But I guess I'm over it now after having a vivid sex dream with a high school student selling magazine subscriptions.