Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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It's all your fault I screen my phone calls

Sometimes humiliation happens in ways so creative you can't do much more than just shake your head and hope that your blush isn't showing.

As part of my lit-hum course I have to read "The Art Of Love" which is one of Ovid's erotic poems. Now anyone who'se kept up on my journals at all for the last couple weeks knows about how much I know about love (0 +-3) and about how much I want to think about it right now (that would be not very much for our extremely young or forgetful readers) but I'm a student and a big boy and I know that I have to go ahead and do my work even if my heart has recently been ripped from my chest, held aloft for all to see and laugh at, and hurled into a sewer with all the other shit. However when I went to purchase this book from the book store it was not on the shelves with the other stuff. So I went to the desk and asked if they had Professor Dauber's extra lit hum books. They told me that they did not and thus the following exchange occured.

C(lerk): So do you know what books you need?
B(en): Well something by Ovid.
C: *flips through a binder listing some stuff* Well is it the ART OF LOVE?
B: I...guess so
C: So? DO YOU WANT THE ART OF LOVE OR NOT?
B: Yeah I guess that's it.
C: *shouting to someone in the back stock area* HEY, THIS [Flabby] GUY [who will never know the touch of a real woman and so must pathetically resort to literary alternatives and lots of hand cream] WANTS THE ART OF LOVE FOR HIS FRESHMAN LIT COURSE (I should add here that I don't exactly want people to know I'm still doing the Freshman lit course since I am technically a sophomore and I SHOULD be a junior)
S(tock guy): What professor does the [pathetic and unlovable] guy want THE ART OF LOVE book for?
C: He is looking for THE ART OF LOVE in Professor Dauber's class.
S: Oh...we're out of THE ART OF LOVE but we have THE EROTIC POEMS BY THE SAME [perverted] AUTHOR [who is clearly only ever read by sick perverts]
C: That's not it. Sorry we don't have THE ART OF LOVE FOR YOUR FRESHMAN ENGLISH CLASS right now.

I then went home with some other books (including the statistics textbook which I found there but which cost 100 bucks) and checked my syllabus. Guess what...I DID need the Erotic Poems. I will stress that this was not my fault, because the proffesor gave them the wrong title. So I went back after my abnormal psychology class and asked for the Erotic poems. I got another humiliating exchange between clerk and stockguy and the clerk even went back into another part of the store, presumably to laugh at me from afar. Finally he came back and said that they did NOT have it because they had sold out due to other students from classes with professors who didn't order the book coming by and swiping it. Then they sent me to another nearby store, where I had to ask about it AGAIN and finally got the book. Now after spending about 45 minutes asking about Erotic poems I actually have to read them and re-live how unlovable and unloved I am as well as how I have absolutely no erotic experience whatsoever. Couldn't they just pants me and get it over with?
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