Juxtapose

Sometimes, when you're sitting in the library at school, studying for hours, and you're really wishing for a diversion, you think of Barnes & Noble and then you blog about it. Much in tune to Mike's blog on the subject of Cute Starbucks Girl, I have the Cute Barnes & Noble Guy. I mean, there's more than one in the store, I'm sure. But what could be better? Books, good-looking guys who read Russian lit for fun, and comfortable couches. And it just so happens that recently, when buying a Dostoevsky book, CB&NG commented on it, saying that his short stories were even better than the book being purchased. Somehow, secretly, I like to think that if I went back to buy another book, he'd be all, "Wow. You're the Dostoevsky Girl..." And I would say, "Yes, that's me," (in a perky tone), and he would say, "I knew it was you. I'd know those glasses from across any room, any sea of endless faces." I'd retort with something inherently pithy/snappy, we'd laugh to ourselves over the common bond of Barnes & Noble-ness, and then he'd say, "How'd you like the book?" See, in my imagination, I say something other than, "Uhh... yeah. It's, uh... good!" Because, as we all know, in my imagination the wittiness just flows like a river from my mouth, unlike real life, where I stare uselessly at Barnes & Noble sales associates like a psycho, especially when they wear western shirts and have incredible, almost anime-esque hair. I know I've seen a boy before, but, well, most boys aren't Barnes & Noble sales associates. It's the books, guys. Does it to me every time.