Quote:
Originally Posted by Celuien
Also assigned to Mordor is that it only seems to be the random creepy guys who ask. 
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Amen to that, sista. I assign the fact that guys who hit on me are almost always at
least ten years older than me and not even close to being anything resembling my prefered type. (Which is -- around my age, not overly creepy, and without a girlfriend... or wife and children, thank you. Pretty simple, one would think, and one would be wrong.)
I would also assign the fact that whenever I go out to concerts with a friend of mine, she's the one guys always hit on -- but really, it's kind of nice. It's like she's my sheild, as long as she's around the creepy drunk guys will go after her. Part of me, the ego part, is saying, "Am I invisible or what?" and the other part, the smart part, is going, "Invisibility! Score!"
On a more serious note, I'd like to assign the woman who got really snotty and called me stupid last week when I told her that the book she wanted was checked out. She asked me if it was on the first or second floor and I told her that since it was checked out it wasn't actually in the building, and she said "If it
was, helloooo," and then went on a mutter rant about stupid librarians who don't know anything. I refrained, just barely, from saying that if she had half a brain she could very well figure out for herself that since all non-fiction books are shelved upstairs the non-fiction book she wanted would be shelved upstairs, hypothetically speaking, if it were not checked out and was actually in the building. Helloooo. Get thee to Mordor, thou harpy.