Get Rhythm: OR Why Bookstores Smell Pretentious

They still haven't bothered to drug test me.

*That's* getting annoying. I wonder if it's a bad thing to be proud that you can pass a drug test? I suppose if you were a real person with a real job and a real social life...it would be. But the fact is everyone I know is either a drug user or an alcoholic. So it makes me feel special that I could have peed in a cup and gotten a thumbs up for the last few weeks. But the not getting tested...well I think they just do that to annoy you with how many times you *could* have gone out for a few drinks and gotten away with it.

So what do you get when you're court ordered to find something other than drinking to do as a single guy in Buffalo who works second shift?

Bored. Quickly and often.

Today's idea to liven up the four walls was to go out and buy Rock Band.

Then I stopped into Barnes & Nobles for no particular reason. I was immediately reminded why I hate going to Barnes & Nobles.

I only make four stops in the store whenever I go in. Magazines, Comic Books, Wrestling Books and Humor.

I am the lowbrowiest leisureiest reader of all time. I'm sure there are others like me...and we need a separate store.

Everything about that place makes you feel like your not reading enough. Or at least not enough of what you're supposed to be reading.

As soon as you walk in you see the line of people with that fucking smug look on their face because their holding a hardcover book at checkout. To the right is the coffee shop...where people sit reading through books and typing on their laptops. If you're one of those people and you're reading this (and God forbid reading it on your laptop at a bookstore) please go kill yourself.

None of the sections that I'm in need of are anywhere near each other...so I have to cross past costumers looking to buy history books, true crime books, self help books...forgive me that's all the genres of literature that I know to exist.

I finish up my "as quickly as humanly possible" browsing and head to the checkout.

Now, as if my visit hasn't been fun enough, I'm faced with that damn music rack. If you've never looked at the music rack near the checkout, I suggest you do so. It's stacked with album after album that no person in their right mind would ever purchase. There's always some musical soundtrack, some greatest hits for artists you've never heard of, the best of the grammys cd that lives there year round...and for some reason a random Bob Dylan album.

Everything about that place makes me want to take a shower.

So I head home for what hopefully won't be the most boring night of my week (cause Friday night is party night!) and assemble the drums for Rock Band.

That's when I remember that I have no rhythm.

I bang away missing note after note until I just go back to watching TV.

I was playing on easy.

I already know from Guitar Hero that I can't do the guitar...and now I know I suck at drums to.

It's not totally my fault though. After playing for a time it became somewhat obvious to me that I have zero foot coordination and my left hand may be retarded.

Hopefully I can sing my way through.

...yeah...I'm not holding out much hope for that either.