I Know You are Thankful, but...

Dear Black Hoodie Guy,

I know you have issues with personal space and are kind of, shall we say, odd. I know you have issues with basic communication. I suppose I should be some sort of honored that you feel comfortable enough to ask me to help you when I walk by. I suppose I should also be honored that you wanted to shake my hand when I helped you figure out that the email you sent to whomever had bounced and the recipient never got it. But, honestly, I don't really want to touch you.

I hope that doesn't put a dent in our growing librarian-patron relationship. Because despite all of the above, you still scare the shit out of me.

Look at that Fucking Hipster

Okay... How many of you people watch So You Think You Can Dance? I tend to turn it on and then ignore it. That's pretty much what I did tonight until the last couple danced. I'm not sure what they danced, but they did it to Puttin' on the Ritz.

But that isn't my point or what caught my eye. Did anyone see the guy in the audience behind the choreographer of this dance? This guy, the guy behind the choreographer, had a lip ring and was wearing fur hat with ear flaps. He was wearing some tshirt that I am sure was all ironic and shit. Don't get me wrong, I love both hats with ear flaps and irony--always have. But this guy looked like an idiot. Or like someone who could be featured on our favorite hipster site.

Speaking of the fucking hipster site, I found an interview with the creator.

My Next Favorite Blog

Awful Library Books.

So very awesome for so many different reasons.

Bathroom Graffiti

Graffiti on the back of a stall door on the women's restroom in the library--

You're:
-Hot
-Worth it
-Peeing
-Crapping
-Beautiful
-In charge of your own destiny
-Whole
-Sexy as fuck
-Made in god's image
-Enough

Gen X Grows Up

Holy Christ. What a day.

I didn't know what to think when Michael Jackson died. I loved him, and I mean loved him, when I was 13 years old. Thriller blew my mind. I had pictures, magazines, and god knows what else devoted to Michael Jackson plastered on my bedroom wall. Thriller was not the first album I ever bought, but it was the first that I really remember.

But then he became a freak. I can't think of any other way to describe him. Even now, seeing pictures of him from the late-90s to now creep me out. I can't help but laugh uncomfortably at both his visual image and the train wreck that his life had become. But then I look at pictures and videos of him from the late-70s and early-80s and I get teary eyed. He was so young. He was so adorable. He was so talented.

But there is no denying the influence he had on music and popular culture from the '60s until he died. Can you imagine a world without Michael Jackson? No, me either.

And then Farrah Fawcett. She's been ill. It was just a matter of time. But, like Jackson, imagine a world without Farrah Fawcett. Can you imagine a world without Charlie's Angels, without that poster. I can't.

I've been shocked at my own reaction to both of these deaths. Surprised at how sad I am. But I don't know if I am sad about the world losing them or if I am shocked and sad that I am old enough to be losing my childhood icons to cancer and cardiac arrest.

MSNBC posted an article titled Jackson, Fawcett Deaths: Bad Day for Gen X that does a good job of summing this all up. A quote from a fan summed it up well: "These people were on our lunchboxes."