He was cute. His hair was a little too long to be so spikey, but whatever. The tech-support area was rather drab however. There was not much look at or read or busy my brain with while he tinkered with my laptop and waited for it to turn on.
A brief explanation: My computer has been f*d up since I got it. Gotta get something other than a Dell... And I'm still trying to get the damn thing to just work. And I procrastinate on such things. But the recent gift of an IPod has me hungry for internet, Itune crazy access...so here I am.
With the cute computer guy.
So like I said...it was taking him a while. And I was bored...and I couldn't think of anything so I decided to turn girl. Very rarely do I exume extreme girliness. When a bat or a bird is flying over my head, for example, or when I'm forced to see what looks like a really, really, REALLY, scary/gory movie - without the help of any controlled substance.
Either way, I started thinking... What kind of a story would I tell? 'Well I took my computer in to get fixed, we chatted over gigabytes and motherboards and the next thing you know - he's moving in....'
Doubtful. He was a bit shorter than me and that stresses me out. But I thought it anyway.
Then he told me it'd be $250 to fix the damn thing that I'm still paying on.
I told him thank you and left w/ my computer and no plans on coming back. That was the end of that.
When I got to Rachel's I was highly annoyed. Not only did the computer guy and I not work out - but I found out some disturbing school news.
When I got there, my friend Brian pulled out a sledge hammer and offered it up as a solution to my computer problems. In the end, Rachel's father had a quick, cheap solution for me - sealing the deal that I'll never see the cute computer guy again.
I've been going to Rachel's a lot lately and sitting out in the garage until the last possible minute before I have to leave to go to work. It's been a bad idea. I never want to leave. We'll sit in the shade of the garage with the radio on...wait for Mart to get home from work and do what friends do...enjoy each other's company. I love my friends even more in the summertime. And I don't like having to leave just as they're starting to relax...and sleeping when I could be up taking part in the world.
"I don't want to go to work," I'll say to Rachel as we discuss workouts and tennis shoes and the neighbor's stupid house-sitter.
"I don't want you to go to work," she'll say back.
But alas...there is nothing to be done. So I get in my car and wish it were Friday.