Quit calling me lonely.

I feel no anxiety as the girl is running barefoot in the parking lot (gravel squishing between her toes.)

She stops just long enough to pose for me in her vintage short skirt, and then smooth her wild hair down into an awesome "emo" look. Her bangs cover half her head. I guess it is the dead head side of her head. I fear what that dead half of her looks like, and I thank the gods for you Emos thinking of a style that covers the freak side of your faces for me.

One of her friends is photographing her doing something silly. Or is it ironic?

I wonder how everything she does is cooler than me,

and after I stop wondering I decide I want to be as cool as her.

A few days later….

I see her this time at the counter of the Self-Checkout machine that I man. She wants to return a bunch of stuff that her Mom made her buy. A list of the items her Mom made her buy:

1. A bottle of caviar
   
2. A bottle of fancy vinegar
   
3. Something from Oil of Olay
   
4. Fancy ass pepper
   

I do a quick check of the total money coming back before calling my manger over.

The sum you ask?

$34.00

Bank.

"Ya,"

Oh, I 'm sorry. I think "ya" was a compete sentence for her.

Really.

She put a lot of thought into those two little letters. Meaning was conveyed that I cannot convey back to you on paper. It was all body languagey.

"Mom's made my sister buy caviar, and now she wants me to take it back."

Her voice is quivering. Something is not quite confident here. Her speech sounds over rehearsed.

I know I am supposed to believe this story. But I don't.

"I had no idea we sold "caviar." I pronounced caviar like I was one of the Beverly Hillbillies.

When I ask, Emo girl has no idea which store her stuff was bought at, "But my b/f is out in the (getaway) car. I could go get him…."

My manager interrupts this tangent.

"This is like 50 dollars worth of stuff." My manger barks. "I am going to need a receipt for that."

"Oh."

That was it for Emo. She walked out of the store. She walked out of my life. I guess she went on to some other store where she probably got her fifty dollars using her (improbably good) emo looks.

She went out the next day to some vintage clothing store and bought something that makes you realize you have no taste.

Then she probably posted all the pics she took of her adventures. Snappy pictures accompanied by equally snappy strings of words on her blog.

I decide to hate EMO girl for no good reason (it has nothing to do with her chewing blue bubble gum.) I am aroused by all her attention seeking behavior in the video below, and I enjoy the seriousness of the b/f driver. He drives like he is a stunt man in a Bourne movie.

Part 1 of my post on George Sodini is now ready!