Whine and Cheese

The obvious pop culture-ish thing to post about this week would be the Oscars. I could tell you my thoughts about Charlize Theron's second head that was growing out of her left shoulder, or about my girl-crush on Salma Hayek and her lovely Versace dress, or about my astonishment that Hilary Swank's ribcage was half the size of her cranium, or about how my favorite moment of the night was when those french dudes brought up their penguin toys and made penguin noises into the microphone for their acceptance speech (those crazy french!), or I could wax poetic about the fact that I haven't been in love with a celebrity since I was in love with Michael Jackson back in his Thriller/Off the Wall days when I was a child, but that over the past two years I've had a deepening love for Jon Stewart that causes me to want to put his picture in my locker, if I had a locker.

But I'm not going to write about that. The reason? I am having a crap-week at work this week. I'm Alexander and it's been a string of no-good, very bad days. Ugh. I'm not really prone to having many truly bad days, because of my usual go-with-the-flow-ness, so when I have them, it kind of throws me. The first thing that's been crap about this week is that the teens in my library are running amok, and we've had to kick them out at alarming rates. It's like the front door of our library is coughing out teen loogies and spitting them on the sidewalk. I know there are many librarians out there who like to hate on teens, but I don't happen to be one of them. I love those scruffy little rugrats, even when they're being assy. I certainly remember having my own assy teen moments when I was their age. I got kicked out of places too. My friends Alli and Map, who both read this blog and who've been my friends my whole life, can attest to the many times we tortured that poor student teacher in 12th grade English by mocking him at every opportunity. Or how our 8th grade history teacher kicked us out of class almost daily. Or how we almost failed 11th grade history just on the basis of being tardy to first hour every day, waltzing in to class in our pajamas with McDonald's breakfasts that we would spread out on our desks and munch on with that 16 year old bravado that I see at work every day. So kicking teens out of some place isn't the end of the world, I know. But I don't relish having to do it, like some librarians do. It doesn't make my day. It's one of my least favorite things about my job. Ugh, again. I need to be wearing some Ugg boots right now. All I can really do is walk around at work humming "It's hard out there for a pimp." You ain't knowin' you ain't knowin'.

So yesterday I had a meeting at another branch on the west side of town. My branch is on the east side of town, so I got a head start and left my branch early to be sure that I made it on time. In my city, driving from one end to the other in morning traffic takes about an hour. I fought my way through traffic and arrived a blissful ten minutes early, only to find an empty conference room. Aack! My schedule had the wrong location on it. The meeting was back on the east side at a branch not ten minutes from where I work. Another hour in the car for me, and being late for the meeting! I don't have anything witty or snarky to say about that. It just sucked.

When I got home last night, I got an email containing this link to a quiz. I decided to cheer myself up with finding out how I would be defined in the dictionary. I put in "Librarian Girl." It said: "Visually stunning." That actually cheered me up a little. Then I put in "Pop Culture Librarian." It said: "Sexually addictive." Wow! I'll take it! Feeling better already. Then I put in my real first name. "The consistency of congealed cheese."

Ugh.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl