Tuesday, March 30, 2010


In my twenties, I briefly dated a guy that I picked up in a philosophy class. He was a lovely, highly entertaining fellow who, on the the few coffee shop dates we had, managed to make me laugh and make no Star Trek references. Big. Bonus. So when he asked me if I would have dinner at his place, I jumped at the chance. Not only would it be a perfect way to see if I was ready to take it to the next level (which in university-days parlance meant heavy petting before dinner and full-scale contemplation of whether I would have my panties off before the dessert course) but I could also see what his apartment looked like. Ah youth!

In this case, however, it was all over for before the salad ever hit the table. What did me in, intraweb, was the bookshelf. One look was all it took for me to realize that this was not the guy for me.

Me (a signed copy of Joe Clark's memoirs book in hand): Did you have to read this for class?
He: No. Why?
Me: Is Joe Clark a blood relative of yours, then?
He (proudly - no! - defiantly): The guys a fucking genius.

Check, please!

If the eyes are the windows to the soul than bookshelves are the window to the mind. Here are a few nice ones.


See what I mean?

1 comment: