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August 10, 2006

Mrs. Robinson, I Presume?

Last night, I shot my first videoblog.

I kept making excuses. I needed a haircut. I had nothing to talk about. My video camera was packed away godknowswhere. But last week I decided enough was enough. I dug out the camera and charged the battery. I got a haircut. I came home, set up my shot, and pressed record. I spoke about everything and nothing and when I was done, thought that wasn’t so bad. All I needed to was to download the footage and I was set.

There was one small problem.

I didn’t have the cable to connect it to my MacBook.

Earlier in the week, I had been IMing a perfectly delightful 19-year-old boy I know on Consumating. I had met him at a Consumeet, and we’re now friends of a sort. We flirt from time to time, but I keep it light as the fact that he was born when I was entering high school is more than a little bizarre for me.

Anyway, when I was complaining that I needed a memory card for my camera, he told me that he worked nights at a sertain Large Computer Store.

That’s my department, he typed, you should come by.

I checked my watch. It was 7:15pm. I was wearing a Penny Arcade rogues do it from behind babydoll t-shirt, my leggiest jeans, and a pair of five-inch platform boots. Nerd Bait, I thought. I grabbed my purse and sunglasses and jumped in the car.

I strolled through the store until I located his department. My young friend is tall, dark and handsome - relatively easy to spot amongst the throng. I spotted him, stopped in the middle of the aisle, turned and growled his name.

He turned, looked confused, then smiled. Slack!

I hugged him. I need cable.

You’ve come to the right place.

As he led me down the aisle, he said hello to every salesguy on the floor.

I leaned into him and whispered in his ear. I know exactly what you’re doing.

He laughed and slid open the glass case to select my cable. I need a memory card, too, I reminded him. We went to another department to confer on what card my camera would take.

… doesn’t know jack, one of the salesguys told me.

I smiled. He can be taught, I responded. Besides, I adore him.

With my purchases in hand, ... walked me to the checkout line, an amusement-park maze that shuttles you like cattle past all sort of GeekFood and shiny objects, ending in twenty-some odd cashiers.

You’re going to let me cut in line, I said. It was a statement, not a quesiton.

Of course, he responded. And an employee discount.

I handed my purchases to the cashier. … waved to a guy standing in a metal cage.

That’s our Cage Monkey, he told me.

If I throw peanuts at him, will he do tricks? I asked.

He’ll probably do tricks if you just smile at him, he replied.

I turned and smiled at ... Honey, all boys do tricks when I smile at them.

He laughed. Where does your ego come from?

It’s homegrown, I told him.

He walked me out, as he was heading out on his break. So you’re just taking off?

I am, I smiled. You're the most popular guy in this store now. My work here is done.

I turned and walked to the car, feeling a little 80s older hot chick in some John Hughesian comedy.

I got home, poured a glass of wine and realized

I got the wrong cable.

…, I’ll see you tomorrow. 7:30pm sharp.

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Comments

Hey, I'm pretty sure I was graduating high school when you were born, which probably makes this, ah, nevermind.

Thanks for the most excellent laugh. You think you were led to the wrong cable on purpose, perchance?

Young boys are so dangerous.

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