Kinko's. Kinko's. Kinko's.

I have had pretty bad experiences at Kinko's. (Pardon. FedEx Kinko's.)

Many of my most classic procrastination moments have taken place at a Kinko's. These situations bring me to the doorstep of the nearest Kinko's with my Mac in hand and anxiety within.

Anxiety not only due to the possibility of a late paper, but also due to figuring out how to print the thing out. Technology dislikes me. We don't click, which is sad because I thought that I was supposed to be among the generation of technology savvy individuals. Apparently, I did not make the cut.

I went to Kinko's today. I actually shuddered when I decided that I had to go. I wanted to create (greeting) cards of my art work because I heard it was a good thing. So I did and...I don't know. They are alright I suppose (I just say that to protect my self-esteem). I actually don't like them much. Maybe the paper just didn't do it for me. I get really picky about paper issues.

I was handed the sad looking greeting cards and walked over to the paper cutter, as they needed some trimming. Oh, the paper cutter. We haven't gotten along until my late high school years and even now our relationship's a little shaky. I can't seem to use it correctly, so the cards are awkwardly different sizes.

Luckily, there was a pleasant looking old woman at the next table keeping me and my loud, squeaky paper cutter company. I cringed with every swift of the cutter.

I was welcomed with Seattle's droplet showers as I walked out of the Kinko's. My squeaky windshield wipers did not help the situation.