Gabby (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyoflorien) wrote2005-06-27 11:08 pm
ladyoflorien) wrote2005-06-27 11:08 pm
Yes, we will all one day become what we avoid...
So tonight I'm sitting at my computer, alternating between working on my webpage and doing other bits of coding, further alternating between watching bits of [pirated] H2G2, drinking a Becks dark, and dressed in totally grubby clothes and it hits me. An image of Randy, my brother-in-law, slouching at his computer, alternating between working on bits of coding and answering e-mails, further alternating between "working on" bits of music, drinking a beer and dressed in jeans and a h4ck3r shirt. And I realize the thing that I once hated the most... I have now become. Dear sweet merciful God in heaven!
And an hour later, as I'm sitting on the couch, alternately watching a 2-hour A&E special on Star Wars and playing with a new voice mail message, eating ice cream straight from the carton, and still slouching in my grubby clothes, it hits me. An image of Randy, in a video e-mail, wearing a Darth Vader mask. And I, ever ready to rise to the occasion, further panic over my impending doom by playing out a little scene in my head like this:
Randy: Abby never told you the truth about your father... [adjusts glasses]
Myself: [clutching to a pillar with one good arm, the other crippled by carpal-tunnel] She told me enough! She told me you killed him! [uses inhaler]
Randy: No. I... am your father... [presents One Ring]
Myself: ...No... No it's not true! [recalls matching Monty Python DVDs] NO! IT'S NOT POSSIBLE! [recalls both our Star Trek memorabilia collections]
Randy: Search your feelings, Gabby! You know it to be true!
Myself: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
I'm doomed. DOOOOOOOOMED! [doooooooooooooooomed...]
And an hour later, as I'm sitting on the couch, alternately watching a 2-hour A&E special on Star Wars and playing with a new voice mail message, eating ice cream straight from the carton, and still slouching in my grubby clothes, it hits me. An image of Randy, in a video e-mail, wearing a Darth Vader mask. And I, ever ready to rise to the occasion, further panic over my impending doom by playing out a little scene in my head like this:
Randy: Abby never told you the truth about your father... [adjusts glasses]
Myself: [clutching to a pillar with one good arm, the other crippled by carpal-tunnel] She told me enough! She told me you killed him! [uses inhaler]
Randy: No. I... am your father... [presents One Ring]
Myself: ...No... No it's not true! [recalls matching Monty Python DVDs] NO! IT'S NOT POSSIBLE! [recalls both our Star Trek memorabilia collections]
Randy: Search your feelings, Gabby! You know it to be true!
Myself: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
I'm doomed. DOOOOOOOOMED! [doooooooooooooooomed...]
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so much.
beware the grooooooooove.....
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I love that you placed it. Grooooooooooooooove....