Well, among my other soul mates, he was the most recent and freshest in my memory, okay? So stop your snickering.
I was chatting and laughing with my colleague Serene and my ex-colleague Xiang Ning (she'd quit for school) at work, when the abovementioned soul mate strolled into the store. He had short blond hair, wore dark blue jeans that hung on his frame perfectly, and was wearing a white graphic T-shirt.
FYI, I have this thing for white T-shirts. Especially if they are on chillies' bodies.
Or rather, I have this thing for chillies, especially if they are in white T-shirts.
Anyway, the bestest part of him (I know, right? There's better?!):
He had tattoos on the backs of his forearms, both identical. They looked like the Deathly Hallows symbol in Harry Potter!
I know, so hot, right?
There was a point where he was looking at a shelf of CDs, back facing us, and he bent a little to scratch the back of his left knee. Serene nudged me and said, "Cheryl, go help him scratch!"
Cue maniacal laughter.
He then proceeded to the counter to have us search the database for a title: Spill Canvas.
My head went BOOM!
I'd heard of that band before; I had one song in my iTunes!
But at that moment, my brain ceased to function. My mouth formed the words, "Sorry, we don't carry that band," to which he replied, in an awesomely sarcastic way, "Oh man! Great, that's awesome."
See?? SOUL MATE MATERIAL.
Usually I'd ask the customer if they'd like us to special-order the CD from the US, then get their name and number if they did. But it was as if my mind stopped turning its wheels. Mourned silence ensued (you know, 'cause he couldn't get that CD), then he said, "Thanks," and left my life forever.
Oh well. It was good while it lasted.
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You guys know how I always say Twitter sucks? Well, I still believe that, but lately I've gotten slightly less prejudiced against it. I GOT REALLY BORED. So after the usual Facebook stuff, I opened a new tab and surreptitiously typed the words, "twitter.com," as if my macbook would judge me.
Then I signed in, and replied to the few tweets mentioning me. Two.
Then I tweeted. Of what, I don't remember, and don't want to remember. Twitter is not exactly my guilty pleasure -- that's Cupcake Corner and It Girl on Facebook -- since it doesn't really pleasure me much. I guess it entertains me for a few minutes, so I'd call it my guilty entertainment.
I didn't use to tweet at all, because I had my own version of Twitter: Sophia, Angelina, and Chand (and sometimes Rachel).
Anything happened that I wanted to share, these three (or four) people were usually the ones whom I'd want to tell it to. Maybe something mundane like, "My mom made me eat a firecracker!" or huge news such as, "Today I met another soul mate! He's hot." I just text them and immediately feel, I'm not sure, gratified? Or relieved? Whatever it is that you feel after you tweet something.
After a few months of exceeded free SMS limits though, I stopped, hence beginning my Twitter era. Sometimes I just refuse to accept change. Except the ones we can spend/save, like those cute little 5 cents that some of my friends always refuse to keep.
