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13 February 2003 @ 12:50 pm
Pre-Valentine's Day Tackiness  
Yume: My grandfather has gone insane. His hands tremble, and his eyes are filled with tears. "Where is she?" he asks, his eyes searching and scanning his small home. "Where did she go?" His voice rises in volume and pitch as hysterics begin. "Where is she?" he screams, "Where did you bury her?" She is a lost love, perhaps one that never was. "Where is she?" He is frothing at the mouth, and his eyes are bloodshot. He scares me as he staggers about, repeating his question again and again. I sit at the dinner table, emotionless and cold, watching him as if he's an actor on a stage. Tears are pouring down his cheeks. Suddenly, he is silenced and sprawled and the floor. Ninety years of life are closed in one final act of madness. And as I stand up from the table, brushing my skirt off, I applaud and delicately step over his corpse to reach the door.

It was long, this day. My mind is fuzzy and I ache from exhaustion – and I think I'm coming down with a cold.
It began early. I awoke at four in the morning, with a pounding heart and ragged breath. By the time I had calmed down enough to sleep once more, it was time to go to work. Speeding up the street with Donatello, I forgot to signal and nearly hit a garbage truck. All this and the sun hadn't even risen.
Business was slow. Nothing was said of my tardiness – my boss either didn't care or wanted to wait until my manager arrived to complain. Thursday is unofficially 'cookie day,' when Jose bakes every cookie we've run out of and I switch trays so that the old ones look new. When the sun rose, the cake decorator came out and talked for a few minutes. He lives far away and was glad he didn't need to drive home in the rain.
Nine o'clock. I peeled off my apron and grabbed my box of Valentine's Day cookies. Quickly, I popped a couple in the Boyfriend's bag and whirled off to Willow Glen to pick him up. Quail called and wanted to meet my Sailor boy; I told her we'd try during his lunch break. Then boom! zoom! grab the guy and get to DeAnza in time for class. Even though I blew half of the directions I gave, I managed to get to school early. How's that for speeding?
Since there will be no school on Valentine's Day, we pretended it was today. I gave out the cookies I'd brought and settled in for the long haul. People drifted in and out as classes began and ended, but there was always a couple of kids still talking. Lindsay, for example, was listing off all her problems to everyone who cared (and quite a few who didn't.) She'd given Johji, the guy who likes her (and I can't figure out why) a box of mints and he was happy until she busted out a larger package (wrapped in Christmas paper because she hadn't anything else) for the Boyfriend, whom she likes and refuses to give up on. Since she had to go to class, she asked me to give him the present.
The present brought on a whole slew of tacky. How much decorum must you lack to ask the girlfriend of the guy you like to give him your Valentine's Day present? If that's not tasteless, I don't know what is. But I smiled and said yes. His reaction would be priceless. But, how much social grace must you lack before you advertise the fact that you really like one boy in front of the one you know likes you? She rabbits on and on into eternity about how much she likes Sailor while Johji sits there, and drives his mood into the dust – and she's oblivious. I'm a queen-sized jerk and I'd never be so horrid. (Well, I would, but it would be on purpose because of an express desire to cause pain.)
Anyway, so when Sailor comes I hand him his present and his face just splats. It was a wonderful expression, a combination of shock and horror and confusion and frustration and, even though he would never admit it, pleasure. He pulled off the Christmas paper and – lo and behold! – it's "I *heart* U" in big chocolate letters. It's cheap chocolate – Brach's – but the sentiment was obvious and embarrassing for its corny message. (She beat me, tho'. I just gave him heart-shaped cookies. I didn't use that special three-letter sentence. Ooh la la.) Sailor dealt with the situation as best he could, by passing the chocolates on to Johji. While this is also incredibly tacky – I think Miss Manner's method would be to return the chocolate while explaining why they could not be accepted – I think that since she put herself into that position, she has to deal with the outcome. When she came back and asked how it'd gone, I smiled and said casually, "Oh, he was very surprised." They were still sitting on the table, with Johji, so I pointed and added, "He gave them to Johji." There was hurt in her eyes but she did her best to cover it up as she asked why. "He said he didn't like chocolate." My sympathetic expression masked the internal cackling that reveled in her disappointment.
Bandaid and I had planned to go to Valley Fair and play dress-up for her military man, so Donatello roared off with Seanie's Isuzu behind. At the mall we tried to have Seanie and Carl wear prom dresses, but they wouldn't play along. We did snap a few good pictures of them horsing around – my digi-camera was put to good use! In Hot Topic and Forever 21 Bandaid and I tried on a few outfits. The photos turned out well enough, although the flash was too strong. There's enough blackmail material to keep Seanie and Carl on my good side for a couple of weeks, at least. We couldn't stay long at the mall, though, so after an hour or two I took Carl home (Seanie had left earlier) and then Bandaid and I hurried to the main attraction, the San Jose Silicon Valley's Ballet.
We were exhausted, tho', so we stopped for a food break. We're only poor college students – I had a bunch of quarters, plus a dollar I'd bummed off Sailor earlier. (I hate to do that. But he had a couple of one-dollar bills and I knew I was going to be starving later and I asked before I could stop myself. D'oh!) We split chicken nuggets and French-fries. It's a pathetic dinner, but it's what we can afford.
This is turning really long...I'll continue it in the next entry. Stay tuned!
 
 
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