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The prick. Oh, how I hated him. I walked around the floor and straightened the Pink Floyd section (again), and told myself it might not calendar be all that bad. I could move back home, get serious about school finally, calendar and try to make a fresh start. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, this interloper motherfuckin' bastard? calendar Later that night I saw him approaching in my peripheral vision. I prepared myself for battle. I wasn't going down without a fight, dammit. Oh, he might eventually defeat me, but it wouldn't be pretty. Not for anyone involved. And he walked up and said, "Excuse me, do you know what section Bob Dielan goes in?" He was holding a copy of Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, but he was pronouncing it "Dielan." I very nearly dropped to my knees and gave thanks to the Lord! Dielan!! It was the most beautiful-sounding word I'd ever heard. It was all I could do not to give the dumbass a big hug. October 19, 2005 -- I was at work a couple of days ago, walking around the warehouse and taking a break from my soul-sapping desk duties.
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