foxy lady

marky mark encounter:
after my last class of language and politics (thank fucking god, that class was so painful), i go into the cafeteria looking for dana to talk to about the magazine. she's not there, so i use the phone in ham center to call her. we are talking and talking about the magazine, or more like she is talking and talking and i am uh-huhing and uh-huhing. but then in a moment that was very wayne's world like when garth spots the hot chick in the diner and can only hear the song "foxy lady," my eyes gaze across the cafeteria to see who's eating there, and then the bass guitar starts riffing as mark walks out of line and towards the tables, and oh is he? is he going to? yes, fucking god, he sits down at a table by his motherfucking self with no indie kids in sight to intimidate me. dana soon becomes an obnoxious fly buzzing in my ear, distracting me from my mark moment.

-dana i have to go uh someone i need to talk to, i'll call you right back
-um, uh, what
-yeah bye
-bye?, as the phone leaves contact with my ear and is placed on the receiver.

now it's just me and marky mark, i don't even bother (which probably was a mistake) trying to not seem eager and excited. i bolt over to marky mark, sit across from him, and experience rapturous delight as i stare at the cutest boy ever and babble and babble so that that way i can stay without having to flee at the appearance of awkward silence.

i'm just as big a geek as garth and get this oh-dear-god-look-at-you-looking-at-me look from senor marky mark. i ignore it and keep on babbling, just so enamored with the sight of cbe (the cutest boy ever).

dramatic music signaling change of events/ shocking realization; da don don daaa:

-oh, is this annie's bag
-yeah
great, means she's in line, about to come sit with mark and then will laugh and think i'm totally dorky and scary
-oh, and who's bag is this
-i think that's sam's
okay, time to prepare to jet, so the indie kids won't make total fun of me
-oh and this one
-that's brian's
-brian hughes
-yep

i babbled some more briefly so i could linger for just a little while more and stare at cbe, and then i took flight so so worried about how all the indie kids would soon be out of line and give me this i-know-you're-obsessed-with-mark-you-sad-pathatic-loser look

i bolted out of ham center, looked up at the slightly blue slightly cloudy sky and wanted to melt into the earth, meld with the schizo nature of the sky, feeling so good for getting to just look at and be in so close vicinity to mark, and feeling so like a big fat loser for multiple reasons that unfortunately need no explanation.