Wednesday, July 20, 2005

my job barcoding books is insanely boring. my mental dialogue while i'm doing said job gets extremely moronic at times. i sometimes have complete conversations, either with myself or with some other hypothetical person, in my head. almost anything can start me off on these mental monologues or's the way of sheer boredom.

yesterday morning, i was barcoding books and listening to my minidisc player. in my player, i had my punk rock has some local bands on it, some famous ones, basically a bunch of random punk rock. i've got quite a few ratbag hero songs on there, and when one of them was on, i remember getting a feeling of being really bummed that they had broken up. they were awesome...i mean, you've really got to love a band who doesn't take themselves seriously at all, who writes songs that are basically about twentysomething punk rockers wanting to go out and drink beer and get laid and have a good time. they even have a song about someone getting pissed off at them because they want them to write a song that's not about girls or beer. are they high art? no way. but, listening to their music is a good time.

then, of course, my mind then wandered to a topic rather close to that one...the various, shall we say, encounters i've had with members of that band, back 18 months, 2 years ago. i remember my mental monologue going something like this..."yeah, they're goofy to listen's fun...and i'm not just saying this because i've hooked up with two of the band members...especially since i'm sure none of them remember who i am anyway...they're just objectively humourous."

fast forward about ten minutes. i'm amazingly bored of barcoding books, so i log onto the internet on one of the computers in the bookstacks. i see i have some new was one of those myspace staple emails, the ones that go, "hey, you're a fan of [band]! i'm fan of [band] too! wow, cool!" then, there was another one on there from someone whose user icon looked really, really familiar...not as someone i'd ever seen on myspace, but as someone i'd seen in real life. a feeling of impending irony surrounded me like a cloud of nitrous oxide as i clicked on the title of the message, "Hey Nikki..." (yay for people who can't even spell my name correctly...). the text of it read:

Guess who finally set up an account on MySpace? It's [name of lead singer]. How ya been? e-mail me sometime at [email] if you ever want to hook up again or keep in touch. Hope everything's been going well for to ya later

i was sitting in the library, and regardless of the law students sitting at the study tables, i started laughing hysterically and interspersing that laughing by occasionally uttering "holy fucking shit" under my breath. i guess he didn't "forget who i am"; i guess he just hasn't seen any boobies for a while. i'm clearly not replying to that message. receiving it, especially after the mental monologue i'd had immediately before, was hilariously ironic. but, i've definitely soaked in all the possible humour value from the situation, and i have no desire of ever communicating with him again. it was dumb fun, back in the day...but he was an asshat, then, now, and forever.

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