You know when you hear someone say something and it is so blunt, so true, you repeat it to someone else just to relish it for a little longer? For me it happens a lot when a person is very direct because I tend to me more reserved. Well, wait. I'm not really that reserved . . . diplomatic, I guess? Whatever. I never would have said this; let's just leave it at that.
My husband and I were at the library, which is staffed mostly by college students. For whatever reason, a lot of the kids running the joint have the alternative fashion look (or maybe I just think they're alternative because I'm such a square in comparison). Whatever, the gal that works the front desk has a half-shaved head (to show off the tattoo on her skull) and rings in her nose and lip.
As a side note (after re-reading this post) I realized that this is coming off . . . snotty? Snooty? Something. I am reminded of an exchange from Sex and the City: Miranda and Carrie are talking and at one point Carrie puts her hands up in the air and states, "No judgment." Miranda's response was priceless: "Sounds like judgment."
I have a feeling that is what happened with my entry. I, the author, am Carrie. No judgment! You, the reader, are Miranda. Sounds like judgment!
I truly don't mean to sound like I'm judging anyone at the library. The only reason I am even bothering to point out things like nose rings and lip rings and tattooed skulls is because I'm (trying) to paint a picture. Succeeding? Apparently not, and that saddens me. I feel like I was supposed to write a disclaimer at the beginning of this post: "The visuals created within do not have any alterior motives beyond simple imagery."
It's just a story. The staff at the library are characters. I'm describing their appearance.
That's it and that's all.
So. The fellow that works the information desk has sandy red hair and a dry sense of humor that he wears like a sidearm. He's younger than me, but not by much, and wears brown corduroy pants and tan sweaters. He looks like the kind of chap that would prefer to be playing Doom to working in a library.
I'm just sayin'.
We were standing next to the information desk while he was helping a small group of four kids who were probably all 10-years-old. I'm guessing they were there to use the computers, and the little ringleader made a comment about the employee's goatee. I don't know what the adorable punk said, but I sure heard Doom's straight-faced, unapologetic response:
"My personal appearance is none of your business."