Blog

This morning, my computer exploded in my face. Some of the shrapnel went up my nose, and I just coughed up a microchip. I drew my eyebrows back on with magic marker for the third time this month, and now I’m at Laman Library to use their computers. I lost my library card in the chaos that followed: My epileptic cat, Voltron, had an episode on my desk. The scratch marks on my hand look like Michael Jackson if you squint.

I tell the people at the desk in the computer lab about my conundrum, and they give me a guest pass for now. I can use the computers for two whole hours, which is enough time to fill out my job application, and to get caught up on the vegemite shortage in Australia. People are choking on dry toast down there.

I log onto the computer by clicking Login as Guest, then I type guest and all the numbers, like they told me. I fill out my job application and, when I’m done, I can’t find the submit button. Heaven help me. I throw myself on the mercy of the desk. They come over and find the button at the bottom of the application. It must have been hiding in some sort of cyberspace camouflage. I then print off my application information page that it showed at the end.

I leave, showing the staff my handsome, smiling face as my thank you.

We don’t have your book?

If I were eyelashes, I would be short, sparse, and in desperate need of mascara. Of course, my actual eyelashes are an American classic. What I really need is the newest book by my favorite author, Daphne Baker. You might say that romance novels are what really accentuate my features, like a good highlighter. Just kidding, I don’t know what that is. I’m a man. And so was David Bowie.

Anyway, I have once again parked in front of my favorite library, ready for them to serve me up a fresh helping of D Bake. I look on the new shelf, and you wouldn’t believe it. My book’s not there. Someone may have checked it out. Who wouldn’t want to read a romance novel about a forbidden romance between a nudist and a tailor’s daughter? I search for it on the OPAC, and it isn’t there. I’m not the best speller, so I ask the front desk to look it up for me. The desk says nothing, as it is an inanimate object, so I ask the person behind the desk.

She searches for it, and tells me that they don’t have it. Though it is hard for me to admit, I flew into a rage so hot, there must have been volcanoes in my eyes. I demanded to speak to whoever orders the books. I need to read The Fabric-Free Lover, or my heart will erupt.

They call down the acquisitions librarian, and I demand to know why I am being deprived of my full-frontal joy. She tells me that it hasn’t been ordered yet, because the demand wasn’t quite high enough. I tell her that it is number nine on the romance list. She hands me a suggestion form, which I can ask for at the front desk whenever I need it. Since the book is fairly new and popular, it will probably be ordered. If they get it, it will be put on hold for me, and I’ll be called the day it comes in. If not, I’ll still get a call. I’ll make sure I’m sitting down when I answer the phone, just in case. I breathe. I will keep coming to Laman, even though I feel like the fabric that attempted to constrain the bare-bottomed Romeo I desire to read about. Before I leave, I check out the book sale. The books are only a quarter a piece, so I buy sixteen for four dollars.

I leave the library, hopeful that I’ll get to read my book without paying nineteen dollars at the bookstore, and I point my car in the direction of Ulta Beauty. I mean Home Depot, which isn’t far from Ulta Beauty where I’ll buy something for my wife who I’m totally still married to, not mascara for me.

A few weeks later, I am sitting in my Perfectly-Good-Work-Ethic Boy Recliner, reading The Fabric-Free Lover. It ends with a beautiful compromise between the nudist and the tailor, where the nudist agrees to wear a clear bowtie to his wedding and nothing else. But the father of the bride is happy to design such a garment. I am pleased.

The Children’s Department

I pull up to the Children’s side, where me and my Penelope stroll in like it’s the red carpet. Why didn’t anyone take our picture? Who am I wearing? Wal-Mart and Hanes, thank you very much. Penelope’s a good kid, I tell the front desk, even though she never eats her vegetables, and she once karate chopped a man in half for looking at the back of her head the wrong way. So naturally, I need to sign her up for a library card. I return my books, which I can also do in the Children’s Department. I ask if there is a fine, and they say they don’t charge for late books.

I ask what I need to do to sign Penelope up for a library card. I tell them I have a copy of her mugshot if they need it. They tell me they only need to copy my information onto her account, since she’s there with me. While we’re getting that taken care of, Penelope plays with the toys they have available.

Penelope’s card is ready to go. They have Storytime every Tuesday and Wednesday at ten-thirty in the morning, which I’ll be sure to tell her mother about. I ask them if they can look up and see if they have the movie, Labyrinth. It was my favorite as a kid. It’s available to stream on one of the lovely apps they offer. I’m glad they’re making David Bowie accessible to the youth of America.

I turn around, and Penelope has left the toys behind and has some Captain Underpants books that I totally didn’t ask her to find, along with a cool one about leopards and such. I ask them if they have The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and they get it from the Teen Center for me. We leave, feeling satisfied. She’ll have something to do while I kick back and watch the Goblin King prance around in all his spandex glory.

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining us!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

Even though it’s Monday morning, I’ve woken up early so I can take care of some things before I have to go to my class at Pulaski Tech. Right when I walk into the kitchen, I see my roommate pouring the last of the coffee. If I haven’t had my coffee, I’m not a person. I’m a swamp creature. I slither on over to my Pontiac, and I head toward Laman Library. I pull up and walk in with more circles under my eyes than a game of Connect Four.

I make it to the front desk, and I tell them I need a cup of coffee and I heard they have a café. Once I’m up there waiting in line, I see that they have breakfast sandwiches. They have Frito chili pie, but I’ll have to come back for that. Coffee and Frito chili pie will do some WWE Smackdown to my stomach.

It’s my turn to order.

“How may I help you?” says the café lady.

“I’d like a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please. Also, can you tell me if the Frito chili pies are any good?”

“They’re pretty popular. Would you like that instead of the sandwich?”

“No, I would not like a scissor kick from The Acid Refluxinator.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, thank you.”

I get my sandwich and coffee in no time at all, and I am ready to re-join the human race at the DVD shelf.

I set my movies down, then ask the front desk if my library card from Jacksonville works, and they tell me that Laman is the municipal library of North Little Rock. Their only other branch is downtown in Argenta.

I ask what I need to apply for a library card with them. They ask if I live in Pulaski County and if my ID has my current address. I ask them what I would need if my photo ID doesn’t have my current address. What if I had just moved here from the North Pole? They tell me I would need a piece of mail from my current, Pulaski county address.

“I’ve never even met Santa.”

Like a true player, I set down my ID with my current local address. I fill out the form they give me with all my information. I’m signed up in a matter of minutes. I’ve had relationships shorter than that. I check out my DVDs, and I hit the road, ready to get back to class.

The Journey Begins

Even though it’s Monday morning, I’ve woken up early so I can take care of some things before I have to go to my class at Pulaski Tech. Right when I walk into the kitchen, I see my roommate pouring the last of the coffee. If I haven’t had my coffee, I’m not a person. I’m a swamp creature. I slither on over to my Pontiac, and I head toward Laman Library. I pull up and walk in with more circles under my eyes than a game of Connect Four.

I make it to the front desk, and I tell them I need a cup of coffee and I heard they have a café. Once I’m up there waiting in line, I see that they have breakfast sandwiches. They have Frito chili pie, but I’ll have to come back for that. Coffee and Frito chili pie will do some WWE Smackdown to my stomach.

It’s my turn to order.

“How may I help you?” says the café lady.

“I’d like a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, please. Also, can you tell me if the Frito chili pies are any good?”

“They’re pretty popular. Would you like that instead of the sandwich?”

“No, I would not like a scissor kick from The Acid Refluxinator.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, thank you.”

I get my sandwich and coffee in no time at all, and I am ready to re-join the human race at the DVD shelf.

I set my movies down, then ask the front desk if my library card from Jacksonville works, and they tell me that Laman is the municipal library of North Little Rock. Their only other branch is downtown in Argenta.

I ask what I need to apply for a library card with them. They ask if I live in Pulaski County and if my ID has my current address. I ask them what I would need if my photo ID doesn’t have my current address. What if I had just moved here from the North Pole? They tell me I would need a piece of mail from my current, Pulaski county address.

“I’ve never even met Santa.”

Like a true player, I set down my ID with my current local address. I fill out the form they give me with all my information. I’m signed up in a matter of minutes. I’ve had relationships shorter than that. I check out my DVDs, and I hit the road, ready to get back to class.