Thursday, March 12, 2009

Dear Charlie:

Okay, so a friend just ruined a song for me.

Well...maybe "ruined" is a strong word. He definitely changed the entire meaning of the song and replaced it with an image that will ever burn itself into my fragile synapses every time the chorus comes on.

What song, you ask? Turning Japanese by The Vapors. Yes. That one.

You know, I like to think I'm not terribly naïve, but that song just struck me as another one of those '80s one-hit-wonder songs that sprung from a fascination with Japanese culture. I mean, I'm fascinated with Japanese culture. Isn't everyone else?

Apparently not.

Heh.

So anyway, rewind two years. While waiting for my first or second appointment over at BioLife -- where I donate plasma -- with a friend from work (she'd harrassed me for a year and a half, at this point, about how easy and lucrative it was; yeah, I'm about as swayable as a lump of lead), she introduced me to a friend of hers from the plasma place. Tim. Tim and I hit it off really quick, probably because there wasn't a chance in hell of any kind of flirtation or relationship to mar us seeing each other as fun and witty individuals.

He's married, you see, and I'm...not. Ever. Guh. Don't get me started.

So anyway, fastforward about a year and a half, and we're back to about six months ago. Tim finds out the hard way that I'm not real good with casual touch. Heheh. Dunno why. I just don't like people to walk up and paw me. I'll shake your hand, but unless you're my mother, my sister, or my close personal friend (and even those are sometimes held at arm's length), keep your damn hugs to yourself.

Of course, Tim now takes every possible opportunity to touch me. He strokes my arm, people. It freaks me out. It's funny as hell, but dude, seriously.

So fastforward to Wednesday evening. It's after work, and Tim hasn't been showing up on Wednesdays for a couple of weeks, so I was pretty glad to see him mosey in. I'm a few people ahead of him, so I just kinda point and laugh. Of course, he takes his revenge. As soon as he gets to where I'm waiting, he strokes my arm, long and slow.

"Oh, Mols, it's sooooo good to see you! I've missed you so much!"

Ha ha.

So we're already giving each other a hard time, and I shove his hand away and tell him to stop stroking me, for the love of God. Also cracking up, he tells me that stroking isn't all bad. Laughing harder, I tell him I could sing him a song about that, but I didn't want to do it in public.

His entire aspect changes. I mean, he lights up like a Christmas tree at a nuclear power plant and grabs me by the arm again. This time, I really don't notice. There is a disturbance in the Force. Somehow, I just knew my whole life was about to change.

"Dude, you know that song Turning Japanese?"

Of course.

"Do you know what it's really about?"

I replay the conversation in my mind, an ugly little suspicion forming that had never even planted a seed before. I mention that I know he's talking about looking at his girl's picture a lot. And that he's all alone. And he likes to kiss her picture when there's no one else....

"NO!!"

He's ecstatic by this time. "YES! It's about...you know!"

I facepalm. It can't be. I mean...what the hell? Turning Japanese? What's that supposed to--

And then...it happens. He makes The Face.

It will forever haunt my waking nightmares.

I am tainted.

I'll never recover.

But it was funny as hell, and we laughed through the whole damn donation. Because, as Fate would have it, while you're usually never placed even in the same section as someone who signs in at the same time as you, he was of course dropped into the bed right next to mine, and he continued to plague me the entire time. We laughed so hard that the phlebotomists got in on it.

Shattered I don't know how many psyches that day, I tell you.

So now, the song is permanently etched into my brain with the image of my friend's expression as he...you know. Never wanted to see that side of him. Can't not see it now.

Dude, he has pretty long thumbs, too. And we all know what that means. And it's something I wouldn't have allowed myself to notice if he hadn't been doing...that. Guh.

I'm scarred for life. I'm just sayin'. Frickin' Tim. Jerk.

Um...sweet dreams?

5 Comments:

At 1:42 PM, OpenID soleilnoir said...

Oh god. That sounds like something one of my male acquaintances would do to me. Especially since, like you, I'm not at all comfortable with casual displays of affection.

What really 'scares' me is that I heard this song for the first time in my early teens, and here I am now, 19 and I'm not at all shocked. In fact, I'm pretty sure my subconscious had already figured out that's what it meant.

What can I say? When you're a girl who grows up choosing to hang out with boys more so than 'your own kind', you tend to develop a very sick mind. *g* I'll be damned if I don't giggle insanely and blush like a school girl next time I hear the song though.

 
At 7:31 PM, Blogger GutterBall said...

Heh, I can't deny that last. I tend to get along better with most guys than most girls, so a lot of my close friends are guys. I guess I just don't think of them that way, and when I do, it's like thinking about your brother doing it, you know?

Gah! Not ANOTHER bad image!

*bleaches brain*

 
At 11:09 PM, Blogger Bulma16 said...

Payin' it forward eh Geeb? There goes one more song from my youth I can never enjoy again.

Ah crap, I can't even use my aggravtated "smilie" now without thinking about it!! *dies*

 
At 3:43 PM, Blogger writtenwyrdd said...

If you mean what I think you mean, I seriously do not get it. And I'm pretty sure you don't mean a Miley Cyrus facial expression either.

word veri, which may be all to appropriate: scanca

 
At 8:22 PM, Blogger GutterBall said...

Claire-bear, I felt pretty much the same way. I mean, every time those lyrics pop into my head, I see that face. It's horrible. I'mma seriously have to thwap him as soon as I see him Wednesday. The wretch.

And WW? Whew. I almost envy you the lack of that mental image, but since I've gone this far with it, I guess I'll go a little further. Picture an average American face with its eyes all squinced up and the mouth manic-grinning while the hand makes the jerky-jerky motion, and I think that might help.

God help us all. Gah!

 

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