I would like to formally announce that I no longer fucking hate Ray fucking Liotta. Yes, I watched Saturday Night Live last night and yes, I did get all uppity when he smacked Jimmy Fallon's ass, but I realized something the more I stared at that odd little face of his. I didn't hate Ray Liotta because he looks smarmy. I hated him because he reminded me of someone that I believed was smarmy. And since I could not, for the life of me, put my finger on the person's identity, it is not fair that I continue to hate Ray Liotta. Don't ask me about the reasoning behind that decision cuz I really have no fucking clue. Just accept it. I have.

So Ray Liotta? I no longer want to force feed you deep-fried palmetto bugs. You are OK.

Anyway, want to hear a story about rampant lust and sin? Sure you do.

OK, I was at work today, hanging out at the returns counter. The New Lady was checking in the books and I was flipping through them to make sure there were no loose pages, left behind bookmarks or piss stains. La la la. Idle chit-chat about sappy movies that I will never see and that she loves. I believe I used the phrase "vapid soul-sucking piece of crap" several times in reference to Meg Ryan and Keanu Reeves, respectively. I had my head down, closely examining a stain which could either be chocolate or poo (I'm secretly hoping for the latter cuz what a story! Feces in a Tim LaHaye book!)when, suddenly, I hear a male voice say "New haircolor?"

I look up and see LBC walking past, looking at me over his shoulder and smiling. Did he just...talk to me? I thought. Oh, shit. Say something witty, say something witty.

"Yeah."

Oh, you fucking wuss. I hate you. But, hey, at least you remembered to smile back at him.

Yup.

And what was I just bitching about? Wasn't I just saying that I was going to stop this because if he wasn't going to talk to me, than fuck it? Yeah. Thanks for that one, God. Way to fuck with my stability.

I was still all flustered when I went on my break an hour later. Jaklyn aka my Way Cool Coworker was on her break, too, and I told her what happened. First thing she said was "You dyed your hair?"

Yeah, it's honestly not that noticeable and she wasn't the only one to ask that question after I had mentioned what he said.

Then she says, "I bet he's going through the exact same thing. Like, every time he gets ready to go to the library, he recites some special chant like 'I'm gonna talk to her today. Yes, I am.' Did you ever think of that, Molly?"

Aaaaah. I'm tired of talking about boys. If I were to enable that private entry thing, this would be the perfect example as to what would be hidden. Mindless ranting about a boy.

Oh, and by the way? I'm not usually like this over a boy. It's just the fact that I know next to nothing about him and he's a total fox. Most of the time, the boy I'm lusting over has no fucking idea until I call him up one night, drunk off my ass, to confess to the crush. Most of the time, I'm in control.

Most of the time.

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