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.
