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When the Universe Reels (aka The Boy Next Door) |
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Reading: Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins (I kinda... lost it for a while)
Watching: Cat Ballou (Jane Fonda, Lee Marvin)
Listening to: The Trolley Song - Judy Garland
Is it just me, or does every love song actually somehow manages to fit your mood when you're giddy and delirious and in love?
Never thought you'd read something like that from me, eh? Please be comforted in the fact that before yesterday, the first sentence of this entry was supposed to be "Like an easily-discouraged p***s, I live to be erect another day."
So what happened between then and yesterday? Last Friday, The Boy Next Door aka The Cute Guy From Sales, or, as some perverted people who actually messaged me about that entry liked to call him, The Guy With The Thing That I Unsuccessfuly Tried To Seduce With My Boobs came by at our building to... I'm not really sure why he was there. The social misfit in me overrides the entire system at times like these and I end up burrowing my head in the sand like an ostrich. Only this time, I was caught off-guard, and before that happened, he had squeezed by arm (twice! *dies*) and made some small talk with me as he passed by. It was very open-ended, as he was just passing by, but it gave me a reason to finally email him myself. Using the company intranet, yes. Love finds a way, but love also makes you stupid so that you find stupid ways.
So I dropped him a line, just a brief message closing our conversation from before. But then he replied, and very casual-like, and with so many (narutarded) questions included in the letter that it would have been just downright rude not to reply. By the end of his shift (he starts and ends two hours earlier), we had about fourteen messages between us. And that was only because I took my time, since (a) I actually had a job to do there, and (b) I was playing hard to get... but I'm delusional, so never mind.
Now, one time can be written off as a fluke in the cosmos, a glitch in the matrix or, at least, something he ate, but when you arrive at work at Monday and you see another letter waiting for you, you start to believe that there is a God. Or maybe it's the other way around. It starts to get hard to believe that there is a God because in a perfectly just world, I would never get laid. Much less get mail.
So yeah. I'd recently gotten my pc fixed and now, shiver me timbers,
But he doesn't know I exist,
No matter how I may persist,
So it's clear to see there's no hope for me,
Though he works at third floor Avescor
And I work at second floor F&E...
How can I ignore
The boy next door?
I love him more than I can say.
Doesn't try to please me, doesn't even tease me,
And he never sees me glance his way.
And though I'm heart-sore
The boy next door affection for me won't display,
I just adore him, so I can't ignore him,
The boy next door.
Oh, yes. I just recently bought an mp3 player. It feels like I've put the voices and broken records in my head on autopilot... He doesn't know what he's gotten into, that poor, poor boy next door.
 ihateandie · Sun Jul 30, 2006 @ 11:15am · 0 Comments |
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Reading: Junjou Romantica by Nakamura Shungiku
Watching: Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (Bette Davis, Joan Crawford)
Listening to: One Life - The Pillows
As usual, the payoff for my fake job came before that of my real job. Well, actually, it's just that I hadn't picked up my paychecks yet, but whatever - tada!
This is the cover from the first-ever chapter that I edited for The Obsession Scanlation Group, tagline "Obsession is allowed" (kyaa!). The chapter itself is absolute gash, so I'm not posting a link to it yet. I'll wait until I can show something that I can really be proud of. Like cleaning and typesetting over clouds, or an oilslick background, or some gay b*****d's wavy, long hair that's only possible in manga.
Original post here
ihateandie · Thu Jul 20, 2006 @ 05:07am · 0 Comments |
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