Arribatta!

Something like a month ago this kid that always sits in the corner of the coffee shop that I frequent limped up to me while I was studying pulled my headphone out of my ear.

“Arribatta!”, he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Arribatta!  Arribatta!  Glasses… movies… Arribatta!”

It’s weird because all the times I had seen this kid sitting there with his serious looking headphones playing on his laptop, I always assumed he was some kind of deejay or something.  He always looked like he was just sitting there mastering tracks and I thought that he was just a very determined musician.  And here he was talking to me and I realized that my impression was completely wrong.  I don’t know what he has but it was apparent that there was something not right with him.

“I don’t know what Arribatta is… I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

“Come, I show you.”

I reluctantly rose and followed him to his chair where his laptop was plugged in.  I watched as he minimized the video game he was playing brought up youtube and typed the words Harry Potter into the search bar.  Looking back on it now I should have understood what he was talking about when he said glasses and movies but at the time it really didn’t sink in.  I think part of the reason is that I have never once in my life ever thought that anyone would ever confuse me for this magical boy from… Hogwartz, is it?  I look nothing like him… at least I don’t think I do… do I?

I exclaimed my recognition to the guy and then snuck away as he continued to say “Arribatta!  Haha, Arribatta!  Let me take a picture!”

I continued to study and eventually made my way back upstairs.  The boy was already gone when I packed up my things to leave.  I thought that would be the end of it.  He made his joke and had a laugh and now I know I look like Harry Potter to certain types that inhabit coffee shops to play video games for hours on end but it wasn’t.

Since then, anytime I go into this coffee shop and he is sitting in the corner (which is very frequently) I hear:

“Arribatta!  Picture, picture!  Can I have a ticket?”

Can he have a ticket?  Does he think I really am Harry Potter or is he just trying to make a friend?  I wish that’s all it was.  I’m pretty sure he really thinks I am Harry potter and that I fly around on brooms and have magical friends and an owl.  He believes there is some kind of evil I’m fighting, both within and out in the world and he wants a piece of the action.  He wants to go to this magical school.  Why won’t Harry Potter just give him a damn ticket so he can learn magic too?

Charlie and the Baby Factory

A friend that I would consider one of the best ones I’ve got is getting married in a month and this was how I found out:

Hi everyone,

I'm engaged.  For those of you who don't know, her name is Amber Keavey.  She and I have decided to get married next month here in Fayetteville, NC.  I know that it's very short notice, but if any of you would like to join us on Saturday, Nov 12th we'd love to have you here.  I realize that there are a lot of people I didn't include in this email, I'm not trying to exclude anyone so please forward it if you think they'd be interested.  If you plan to attend, please let me know.  If you can't make it, I understand.  

Thanks,

John [AKA Charlie]

I don’t know the circumstances behind this rushed matrimony but I am under the impression there is a shotgun involved.  This was a mass email sent to 85 other recipients, many of which bore the same last name.  That makes me feel a little less bad about never hearing about this girl.  Also, I guess it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken.

The last time I saw John was when I was living in Alexandria, VA.  This was not long after the ex and I had packed up our California domicile and driven back east to for our new start.  The love balloon had not yet popped at this point in time.  Logan had not yet arrived to crash on our couch.  We were still searching for our “place” on the east.  We hadn’t made too many friends and most of the ones that had made were kind of shitty.

We were deep into the spirits that evening before ever stepping out to the bars in Old Town.  John was the first… and perhaps the last friend of mine that ever liked my ex (besides Logan, who doesn’t really count because Logan was part of our unconventional family unit).  I remember John saying something like,

“You said she was cool but I didn’t think she would be this cool.  What is she doing with you?”, and then he laughed and said, “No seriously though… is this for real?”

At that moment in time it felt pretty “real” and I told him so.  When he asked about whether and when I’d marry her… I deferred to an unspecified time.  “We’re taking things slow.”

Given the email above I guess he knew then, what I am beginning to realize now.  Sometimes you just know.   I probably knew deep down, even at that moment in time, things weren’t going to last.  Even then while I was still faithfully trudging through the muck I called love, there were serious indicators that the romance would end poorly.  Maybe I wasn’t ready for that next step and keeping her around was my way of staying out of what I considered, then, to be the death of life as I wanted it.  Marriage, to me, meant the end of dreams and possibilities, the end of ambition.  Who wants that?

That was age 26.  When 30-year-old John was confronted with freedom, an empty house and the emotional emptiness involved in the temporary connections that were formed with liquid courage and festive airs, it hit him, he’s not Barney Stinson.  He didn’t want to be Barney Stinson.  He was ready.

I don’t want to be a lifetime bachelor.  Yeah, I’m having fun being single and will continue to do so as long as I can but under the right circumstances… if the moon was lit just perfectly and the winds were whispering sweet sounds and If my stomach was filled with that love knot that made me want to act like Tom Cruise, jumping on a couch for sheer joy… AND if the logic was in unison with the heart, then and only then, would I rush into things the way John is right now.  When you know, you know.  I just hope he didn’t forget to do the math, because the heart will make you do some funny things that your logic would not agree with.

The Colonel's New Cutout

Sooooo, I guess I bought a life-sized Justin Bieber cardboard cutout a few weeks ago.  The odd thing is, I barely remember a moment in time where I thought, that would be hilarious to purchase and leave around the office.  The moment was so brief, in fact, that I can’t even recall ordering the thing.  I started speculating about what friends I may have told and who would do this.  The pranksters in the office all denied it.  My prankster friends denied it.  There is no record of it on my credit cards.  Where did this thing come from?  Bieber Bangs!

What I do recall is visiting a site that sold Justin Bieber Bangs.  I was talking with a friend about dressing up like Bieber and having her dress as Selena Gomez and pretending we were stars.  She was probably joking about it and I was too, only I was also kind of planning to get the bangs and wear them to London if I could convince her to meet me there.  All I could think was:

“The first time we met was in London.  He was wearing a Justin Bieber wig.”

The thought of that conversation occurring someday made my kidney erupt with laughter and he hardly ever laughs.  So while I was chatting with her and doing this research on getting a wig, I saw the life sized cutout, then I had the thought and then he appeared at my job.  That was it.  No purchase necessary I guess.  I just think funny things and then they happen.

My boss and a coworker joined in to help me construct the thing in the corner of our section.  The Bieb received attention immediately.  It started with people just making fun of me but soon just turned to them speaking to it like he's really there.  It made everyone smile.  It was like I brought in the cutest baby or puppy or kitten that no one could resist.  After the initial reaction wore off, people began speculating as to who purchased it since I assured them it was not one of my friends from home.  They all wished they had thought of it.  Most people here assumed it was Gianne.  It did have his name written all over it.

Last week Gianne tried to get me to kiss his pinky finger by telling me that another coworker (Mike) had lost a bet to him and that the price to be paid was Mike kissing me on the lips.  He said if I kissed his pinky finger, he would call the bet off.  I didn’t kiss his finger and figured I would just dodge Mike.  Besides, this wasn’t even my bet, how did get involved?  It turned out there wasn’t even a bet.

This wasn’t Gianne.  This was me playing a joke on myself.  It wasn’t long before the joke took on new life.  People began placing him in strategic points around the building with the intentions of scaring people.  Sometimes he would be dressed in someone’s sweatshirt or tie.  Who knew there would be this much fascination over a life sized cutout?  I know I didn’t realize just how popular the guy would be.

I think the joke reached its apex yesterday when I came in and a captain here told me that the colonel wants Bieber for his office, and warned me that if I really wanted to keep Bieber, I should bring him home.  I thought maybe I made someone mad and decided I would give it a few more days and then bring him back to my place to do, who knows what with the damn thing.  The next day, today, he was gone.  The colonel wasn’t mad at all, he just wanted to keep the Bieb all to himself.  I guess Cardboard Justin Bieber has a new home.  I just hope the colonel treats him right and shows him new and exciting parts of his office.