.............................................. .* * \ /\ .* O . . .. ..O .. 309 09 Mar 2001 ) ( ') .* O O* o o o o o o o ( / ) * ***O O O O O O O O O \( _)| * O o o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net "This Is a True Story" * * O * *. o |\ _,,,---,,_ * * /,`.-'`' -. ;-;;,_ * * |,4- ) )-,_..;\ ( `'-' by AlterEcho * * '---''(_/--' `-'\_) *mE0w* o *. .......................................* 'Anada is cat-friendly..o*` So I walked into room G39, and my life changed forever. She was around 5'7", with short brown hair and the cutest mouth I have ever seen. Ah, that mouth! Those lips! Ahhhh! I sauntered over to her, gave her my most charming smile, and making my voice low and musical, drawled: "May I borrow your pacer, please?" Oooh, classy! Obviously, I meant to ask her if she might possibly consent to being the mother of my children. Which would be just another evil pickup line, because I don't WANT any children. Thankfully, I managed to conceal my own surprise at the body which had yet again betrayed me, and used her pacer to fill out a Subject Change form. I joined the queue behind her, even deigning to push in front of a tall, muscular chap who looked at me balefully, but kept his mouth closed. Lucky him! My infatuation knew no bounds, and if I had to fight to keep my place in line behind this pacer wielding beauty, then no doubt I would wake up with multiple bruises several hours later. Some things can't be helped. As we bantered over the edifying topics of sewage treatment plants, drunkeness and timetables, I wished the queue would stop moving altogether. I wished the world would stop and an angel might spirit us to another place, a beautiful rose garden, where we might dance alone till the end of time. I wished I had her phone number. Then I discovered her name. Fleur. Oh, bliss! Oh, blissful bliss! Now I could stalk her all around university! I debated memorising her student number, but decided in its stunned state, it was unlikely my brain would be able to cope with a six-digit number. Just forming basic sentence structures was giving me a hard time. When she glanced at my Something for Kate t-shirt and asked me if I was going to hear them play that night, I knew I was lost. All memories of Jessica, Hayley, Melissa and Natalie Portman flew out of my head to be run over by a convoy of semi-trailers. Oh my God! She liked Something for Kate! Oh my God oh my God oh my God! I'm ashamed to say that when I got to the gig that night I spent a crazy amount of time looking for her. Unsuccessfully. I believe I cried myself to sleep when I got home. This was definitely Instant Infatuation (tm). Instant Infatuation (tm), like instant coffee, instant noodles and instant porridge, is, well, instant. Who would have guessed?! I could envision the two of us making sweet love in the long grasses of the park near my house. I saw myself giving her long-stemmed red roses on Valentines Day--hell, on EVERY darn day. I dreamt of spending the rest of my life with her, bound together in marital bliss. God, I'm such a romantic fool. Now, of course, I'll never see her again. Life is shit. .................................................................. /\_/\ * ( o.o ) (c) Anada e'zine anada309 by AlterEcho o > ^ < o ********************************************************************