Tonight it was all fun and festivity at work. At midnight was the release of the 4th book in a very popular teen series, so we did things up Harry Potter style. Staff dressed in gowns, and we had reams of teens and post-teens in gowns and masquerade masks. I don't have much swank wear, so I wore a peasant top and ruffly skirt and huge earrings and called it Hippie Chick Goes to the Prom.
It's fun to be part of this kind of event, and even funner because I'm never in charge these days. I'm what Friend Garraty used to call "Johnny on the Spot" -- I just run around and find things that need doing. And because I've been working floor shifts my feet didn't hurt until about hour 8. Yay! I've been in training!
The teen novel genre was mostly crap when I was growing up, so it's nice to see how it's expanded (ever since Meg Cabot figured out that you take Sex and the City, sex it down, and stick it in a short format and -- woo! Sales.) I read the Judy Blumes and such as a pre-teen, and serious historical writers like Scott O'Dell who is no longer in print except for Island of the Blue Dolphins. Sweet Valley High was not my thing. My friends and I had to skip straight to the adult books (Stephen King and fantasy novels for some, Shakespeare and Judith Krantz for myself.)
The only *down* point of this evening was five assholes who raced their motorcycles through the parking lot, right past the store fronts (including ours, where teenagers were strolling in and out). I mean RACED. A couple of them doing their little Fonzie pop a wheelie moves. For FUCK's sake. There's not a lot that can really, and suddenly, piss me off--but drag racing and such is one of them. It's like the HEIGHT of extreme-azoid self-centeredness. I called the cops, but by then they were parked at the nearby bar, so I doubt anything was done about it. Maybe I should have gone PeeWee Herman Vigilante and knocked their bikes over. (And without dancing the Tequila dance after.)
Annnnyway. Time to take my corpse off to bed cause I work again tomorrow.
