Library Girl

I went to the library with Gunther today.

I don’t think I’ve been to a library since college and a public library since I was a kid. But Gunther says they have a huge collection of DVD’s and they’re all absolutely free.

First of all, I think libraries are a strange concept. I mean I get the theory that it’s a good thing to loan people books for free because it would be great if the country weren’t filled with illiterate morons. But to see it in practice seems a little weird. I kept thinking, “So you’re just going to give me all these DVD’s for free?” How does Netflix compete with them?

Anyway, that weirdness aside, the library is a tough place to talk to strangers because you’re pretty much not supposed to talk at all. I mean, there weren’t any old lady librarians shushing me, but I think the rule of not talking in a library is pretty universally respected.

But I did anyway. Obviously the “in” is the book itself. And I’ve been sensitive to the fact that I’ve been talking to mostly hot women lately, so I turned to some dude about my age who was reading “The 4-Hour Body” and said, “What’s that about?”

He explained the basic premise about how you can make all sorts of amazing changes to your life with little effort (not sure about that) and we started a kind of debate about people being lazy and self-help books in general.

Then, the weird thing happened. The conversation drew the attention of a hot girl. She chimed in to give her opinion (which was: anything that helps people is fine by her) and twenty minutes later, we were having coffee in the little cafe in the library. We exchanged info so maybe we’ll go out some time.

So it turns out that libraries are pretty cool.

Mystery Box

I got home tonight and there was a UPS call tag on my mailbox which means there was a package left for me at the apartment complex office.

So I headed over there and saw a giant box waiting for me. I opened it up right there in the office because it was too big to take back to my apartment by myself. And lo and behind, inside was a new TV.

At first I assumed it was a mistake. Wrong apartment. I get #337’s mail all the time (I’m #377). But then I noticed that the box was addressed to me by name.

Gunther helped me get the TV back to my apartment. I stared at it for like ten minutes trying to figure out if this was some early birthday present from my parents or something. Then I finally decided to check the packing slip. Yes, it was addressed to me, as the shipping address. But the billing name and address was Scott’s.

The motherfucker bought me a new TV. I don’t know why this wasn’t the obvious go-to explanation in my head. After all, he did break my old TV. But I guess I just forgot all about it. I haven’t spoken to him since he moved out and I just assumed I’d never hear from him again.

So Scott did the right thing. I’m going to call him to thank him. Maybe we can go out and grab a beer or something.