2.21.2007

I'm no Carolyn Keene, and this ain't about no Nancy Drew.

Another thought on the car with the "flowery/colorful" language. I think I have figured out the impetus for such a hostile statement to be permanently inscribed on such a cute little vehicle.

The owner's vehicle, let's call her Katie, is a cute little sorority girl. Katie is probably a little flighty and definitely very flirty. She wears designer jeans, is constantly on her cell phone, and routinely discusses important life matters including which tanning salon has the hottest bulbs, who has the cheapest beer, and which fraternity has the hottest and richest brothers. Her major at UT is either PR or Communications. She has lots of admirers, including a couple of stalkers.

One such stalker sent her a bunch of flowers one day. Let's call him Nick. My guess is that he is probably a guy that Katie flirts with so that he'll help her/let her copy him in a class they share together. She coyly bats her eyes, he hands over his answers and his heart, and she merrily skips off clueless as to the power she has over him. Nick watches from afar as Katie chases after fratastic dude after fratastic dude. Although deep down Nick probably knows that Katie only wants him for his answers, he still retains a tiny glimmer of hope that she truly does love him, but just doesn't know it yet. He knows that he and only he can really fulfill all her needs and sooner or later, little Miss Katie will come around.

So, Nick does things. Like sending flowers. And doing sweet/odd things that he thinks Katie will like (i.e. fixing her computer, giving her leather condition for her loafers, Nick Lachey's latest CD, and a book about the origin of pearls). He also bugged her apartment, like any good stalker would do.

Over the past few weeks, Katie had begun to grow tired of Nick. Sure, his answers were helpful, but they weren't always right. On her last test, she only made a 92! Nick was going to have to do a lot better than that, if he wanted to continue to be privy to her charms. Plus, he had been more visible in her life than she preferred. He actually showed up as the Kappa Sig kegger last weekend and tried to talk to her. The nerve! Speaking to her in class is one thing, but in public at a party? What would her sisters think? And how would this affect her run for Kappa Sig Cutie?

Nick was furious with the way Katie had treated him. He had to promise to write several papers to get to be able to even be let in at the party, and then she ignored him the entire night. He had done everything he could to make the night right. Earlier in the day, he had sent her flowers. Then he spent fifteen minutes practicing in the mirror what he would say when he saw her at the party. "Hey Katie" or "Hey Katie" or dare he try "Looking Good, Katie!" He flossed, squirted on his special cologne, a bottle of Polo he received as a gift from his sister at high school graduation, and pulled on his freshly ironed khakis. He was ready for the big night.

After being so rudely neglected, Nick trudged home to watch his nightly taped program. He liked to call it "Katie's Adventures" but really all it was a videotape of images recorded in her dorm room since the previous evening. He had been bugging her room for the past 4 weeks, ever since Katie had asked him to help her fix her laptop. All her computer needed was an update on her virus software, but while he was there, he secretly placed a camcorder disguised as a Panda paperweight. He didn't think Katie would notice or even remember the new addition to her sorority mascot collection, and if she did, he was certain she wouldn't toss it. Ever since its placement, the camcorder's images had turned a harmless crush into nearly an obsession. Nick always found it fascinating how much time girls spent deciding what to wear, how long they took putting on makeup, and how much they gossiped about each other, especially when the latest victim left the room. What pained Nick most as he watched the recording each night, was how much Katie talked about boys, but never mentioned him. Each night he rushed home, hoping, anxiously hoping, that this night would be the night he learned that she liked him.

Unfortunately for Nick, this particular evening was like all the rest. The normal days events unfolded - Katie and her roommate getting up, dressing, fixing their hair, leaving the room for what Nick assumed was class, but actually was lounging in the square and then shopping (evidenced by their return with shopping bags). Then they returned to watch TV. Sometimes it was to watch Days or Oprah, sometimes to work out, sometimes to nap. It was the evening time that Nick learned the most about Katie. When she gossiped with her roomie/best friend about which sister slept with which other sister's boyfriend, Katie's new VW bug, who was getting fat, and what was going to happen that evening on Grey's Anatomy. While the girls prepared themselves for the kegger, a knock at the door was followed by the florist's delivery of Nick's flowers. After initially squealing with excitement, Katie's face changed from joy to annoyance when she read the card. Her roomie asked "Who is it from, Katie?" "Oh, just some guy in one of my classes. You wouldn't know him, he's nobody." Then, after glancing one more time at the mixture of carnations and daisies, she grunted and tossed them in the trashcan while stating "Flowers are so 80's. I mean, carnations and daisies? That's what I got from my date at my Middle School Snow Dance. Yuck."

Nick sat there stunned. He couldn't believe that Katie, his precious Katie, could so callously throw away his flowers. He had spent a lot of money to order those flowers. Two evenings of trying to tutor three of the most moronic jocks on pre-algebra. How dare she? And to her, he was a "nobody?" But they talked every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Sure, it was about class, but still they saw each other as much or more than Nick saw his friends. Nick was mad. Angry. He needed to teach that shallow twit a lesson. And suddenly, he knew what he needed to do. He grabbed a roommate's giant Sharpie, dressed in black, and quickly walked to the parking lot where Katie parked (something he also learned from the videotape). Then, right before he scrawled a giant tirade on her hood about the importance of being polite, he switched the marker from his right hand to his left, and in typical fratastic style, scrawled the words "Flowers are so 80's, you c*nt b*tch."

And that my friends, is what I think really happened.

1 comment:

The Pink Highlighter said...

That was awesome.

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