liberry

megan and i went to the performing arts library today. they have this fancy new system where all you have to do is search for a song in their database, write down the number of the book it's in, bring it to the people, and they get you the book. you need a library card for this act, about which i was nervous, but to my surprise they gave me one! i thought that if you didn't live/work in the city you had to pay some inordinate amount of money... so either they changed that rule or the fellow behind the desk didn't feel like bothering me for such a sum. either way, lucky me. i can now run up late fees at another institution...

so i'm standing waiting for my set of books to come out from the back when this chick walks up to the desk, about my age, maybe a year or two older, escorted by a library employee...

employee: "...so you can just tell them what you need and they'll get it for you. behind this desk."

chick: "well, it's the title song. the title song. i just need the title song."

can't wait to see where this is going.

man behind desk: "can i help you?"

chick: "yes, i'm looking for the title song from the musical, 'the phantom of the opera.'"

OKAY.

man behind desk returns with book. chick peruses book.

chick (muttering to herself): "it can't have a high e-flat in it... no way... where's the high e-flat? there's no way it can have a--- oh. so it does have a high e-flat in it. that is a fuckin' hard piece."

i just wanted to tell her to shut her trap, this is a library, learn your ass from your elbow, and get out of my life. i'm aware that this reaction could be seen as slightly irrational. but if you can't tell your blog, who can you tell?

should that be whom can you tell?