Stalking is Way More Fun than You Might Think

Listening: Speeding Cars - Imogen Heap

Innumerable things have happened to me in the past week, and somehow... none of it warrants discussion. Ever since Piano Music Is Not Condusive To Improving My Mood, I've been trying not to post blogs of when I get emo. They always turn out so whiny and self-centered and when I read them over I get emo again and blah, I just hate it. But Ben wanted me to write a blog entry, so I did. Yay for me.

But tonight was mentionable.

What lead to the excitement was... less than desirable. You would think that my mother would have missed me after being out of town for a week. At least, that's what I assumed. Of course, that wasn't the case. The conversation we had when she actually got home this saturday went something more like this:

Icarus: Hi Mom! Welcome home!
Mom: Hi. ...You've gained weight.
Icarus: ...*sigh* Nice to see you too.

I hate when she does that.

Tonight wasn't much better. After a truly horrible day, Cole and I went to the mall to shop for Christmas gifts, which was really just our excuse to get the hell out of our respective houses to bitch about being emo. Things were a little stiff at first, because we were both still feeling down, but we cheered each other up before too long.

Then we spotted Leather Jacket Kid.

Allow me to take a moment to explain. In the few months we've been in school, Cole has fallen madly in love with a sketchy (yet distressingly attractive) male from her Biology class, one with shaggy brown hair and a perpetuating leather jacket. Due to her utter lack of guts in regards to members of the male sex (sorry, the attractive members of the male sex), Cole hasn't even gathered the guts to ask his name. I've taken it upon myself to do this (and hopefully actually introduce them) before classes end for good on the coming Friday.

So we were sitting in the Food Court when suddenly Cole, in the middle of a sentence, starts gawping like a goldfish on a sidewalk. Bemused, I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the crowd for what I could only assume to be a loose pack of rabid allosauruses, or an army of robot ninja weasels. Finding neither, I looked back at her, raising both eyebrows in question.

"Ohmygodit'sLeatherJacketKid," she exhaled. Seeing as it was all slurred together in one gasp, I wouldn't have understood the statement from most people. Cole is different. I could understand her if she spoke in Dolphin.

I looked back over my shoulder and studied two young male specimens strolling past. At this point, I would like to point out that I had never seen LJK's face, and I can therefore be forgiven for turning back around and saying, "What, guys wearing leather jackets?"

"NonoNO, fucktard, it's actually him." She gestured wildly, and I spun back around, realizing that this sighting was, for Cole, comparable to seeing Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, only about twice as unlikely.

Sure enough, I recognized that mop of shaggy hair, which I had observed at great length from Cole's distant LJK-watching post in Biology class. She might be a bit of a stalker, but that's irrelevant for the time being. It'll probably come up later, like whenever she makes it to the news. And she will. But back to the story. Yes, it was Leather Jacket Kid, with another jacket-wearing male accomplice who was nowhere near as good looking as he, both of them strolling about with this devil-may-care attitude that you could sense from a mile away. Cole practically liquefied in her seat. I, on the other hand, had more important things to worry about. Like how to figure out the damn kid's name.

I mumbled something to Cole that sort of amounted to "Stay the hell right here while I do some investigating" and bounded to my feet, ready to cause trouble. Being that I am veryverysneaky sir, I ghosted into step behind the two of them and followed them into a nearby store. I have a plan for learning LJK's name, but there was no way I was going to do it with The Littlest Hobo tagging along at his heels, so I hunched behind a display case full of stuffed animals and watched them diligently, ready to separate my prey from the herd.

LJK and his cohort must have been fucking Siamese twins or something because they moved practically in sync. I'd have moved in the instant they parted ways for a mere second, but no, that wasn't going to happen, they were more than content to stand within a foot of each other and make things difficult for the Creepy-Stalker-For-Hire-By-Chicken-Girlfriends peeking at them from between stuffed puppies and ponies. I was almost caught twice, once when I pretended to be investigating my scarf, the second time when I made a flying leap for a display case. They might have noticed me, because they left shortly after that. When I fell into step behind them, they didn't seem to notice. I was tempted to continue the chase, but instead I returned to Cole with the news that my hunt was proving more challenging than I'd thought and I probably needed to go on a Vision Quest in the wilderness for a few days, sans bears.

LJK and his magnetic basketball passed our table a few more times as though out of sheer taunt. Cole and I tried to hunt them down once, but they disappeared after that as mysteriously as they had come. Clearly I have underestimated my opponent. After that kind of excitement, I had another mighty fall in mood when there were "complications" with my getting home and I was almost forced to walk. (It's a long-ass distance, don't you mock me.) It was Ben's idea to write a blog entry, so I guess I owe my current good mood to him.

Leather Jacket Kid Sighting aside, the evening wasn't a total loss: I bought a replacement ring for my cartilage piercing (which I had to exchange after I tried to put it in and realized that I was bleeding because the gauge was a size too big. Pfah.) and a million pairs of underwear. Shopping for thongs really improves a girl's mood. I'm serious. No, shut up, I really am. Now Kelilah actually has an excuse to go hunting for the colour of my panties. Because they are sexy.

Icarus hates celery, but thanks for asking, Benji.