Confidential to the person driving the eye-achingly white PT Cruiser with imitation wood side-paneling:
Just because they make it, doesnít mean you have to buy it. Please stop encouraging them.
Thanks in advance,
Lately, when I get excited about something, like, an upcoming three day weekend or some sort of happy-making announcement, I am likely to kind of lunge forward, bend my knees and start swinging my arm in an exaggerated air guitar-type classic rock windmill fashion.
Obviously, this is a problem. Let me count the ways.
Not only have I been doing this at work which is semi-acceptable as my co-workers realize I am just one big ball of retarded at most times, so they are pretty used to that kind of thing by now, but the real problem arises when I am in like, public.
You may have figured out I am for the most part in my own little world. Which is bad at times because it would seem I forget there are other people walking this planet. Other people who might like, be aware of me.
I am not saying I harbor some sort of coo-coo superpower delusion of invisibility. Oh no, I am saying I am just a pretty non-descript person walking the streets minding my own business and sometimes I become so self involved it would never occur to me that there might be someone like, watching. You know, I donít see you; you donít see me kind of thing.
Look, it only sounds worse than it actually is, so yes, weíll just call me a coo-coo with superpowers, ok?
Like today, walking past the bookstore I spotted the latest Best American Short Stories 2002 anthology in the window. I had just received word via my pal Chris that a story written by one of our former creative writing profs (one of the few I actually liked) had made the cut. Her story was sitting in that edition that now sat in the window.
So naturally, thinking about just how much that rocked I almost started the arm wind-up, but thankfully, I realized I was on a busy street and not many of the lunching pedestrians would you know, understand why that would make me happy, let alone why that would make me happy enough to celebrate with a Pete Towsend Windmill right in the middle of a public sidewalk.
Then again, this is just how self-absorbed I can be because like you would care, right? You would just be annoyed with the girl who was blocking pedestrian traffic with her coo-coo antics and huff yourself on by.
Which honestly, is the correct reaction. Congratulations.
Anyway, this whole happy windmill-thing is fairly new in the ann-frank tic repertoire, so I am pretty sure I can break myself of it before oh, I donít know, I am faced with one of The Wilson Brothers? Because, you tell me, just how do I contain my excitement, then huh?
Sadly, I donít.
If that happens I get so overcharged I eventually swing my arm right off and have to go chase my bloody stump down the street. Thatís what happens.
Ahem, yeah, anyway.
In case you missed it, ann-frank: in her own little world.