Writing the book on shutting up
By Carly Reider
Look here. When’s the last time you went to Bird Library and actually got shit done?
Never? Well smack my ass and call me Sally. Bird Library is a sham.
I mean, nobody in her right mind can get work done there. It’s like a fucking nightclub. You’re all screaming, giving lap dances, and blathering on about sucking dick, fucking pussy, and blowing weed smoke up your cat’s asshole.
Well zip it, twat chops. I don’t want to hear a lick of dick unless it’s in the context of Moby: “Say, do you suppose Moby Dick had a big dick?” Also — and this is my last concession — cat capers are okay, but only on occasion. My therapist recommends on the hour, every hour.
But that’s it. Anything beyond and you’ll be hearing from me. And let me tell you, I’m not your typical self-proclaimed librarian. I subscribe to Lori Beth Denberg’s school of thought. Yes, Lori, the girl of great girth from Nickelodeon’s All That. In the name of justice, Lori, with megaphone pressed to blessed donkey lips, crept up on unsuspecting library offenders and yelled, “Quiet, this is a library!” She was a woman of vision, a bacon of hope.
Between you and me, I’m just about ready to go on my own little reign of terror. I’ve got the attitude and the pipes to take library vigilantism to the next level. Plus, I’ll smack anyone in the head with a Webster’s.
So if you value your life, do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up, ’cause I won’t hide in the nanotechnology section anymore. Come hell or high water, I’m gonna teach you who’s who. And if my words mean nothing to you, I’m sure the words “douche bag” imprinted on your skull will.