The Guy

First of all, I'd like to take a moment to announce the end of the trend: Napoleon Dynamite.
I wanted to see this movie when I first saw it advertise. I find dumb stuff funny for no apparent reason. Like when I found out that Hannah works at KFC with a guy named Bucket. Bwah! Bucket! Like those buckets of chicken you get! And then I spewed Mountain Dew from my nose. So I find someone feeding a lama a large ham funny. Anyway, I watched the movie. And you know what? It wasn't the next Citizen Kane. It was completely lacking of a plot. It was unapologetically... dumb. And I loved it.
However, the Napoleon quoting must stop.
I came to this realization after going to the Beta convention last weekend. Six out of the 15 campaign skits had a dancing Napoleon and an equal number of candidates tried to drop Napoleon quotes into their speeches. Exactly what "building a cake" has to do with being a successful Beta State President I will never know.
And so...I now declare the following to be utterly unacceptable behavior:
adding "gosh" to every statement you make, adding "dang," "freakin," or "freaking idiot" to everything you say, and using "infinity" in replace of several, a lot, or many.
note: Deb quotes and the phrase "butt-load" are still acceptable. And the Napoleon dance is still funny if done right.
We had a great time at convention. Only one of the candidates using a dancing Napoleon won. And I did not vote for her. Mare and I supported "Dan the Man," the reigning state president, who had an entirely 80's themed campaign speech and skit. And, I became more enamored with my "Seth." ( I swear this isn't just another Adam Brody fanwank as I'm sure those are getting redundant. )
I first noticed him at district history day, my first experience with the contest since the horrific History Day event of 1998. Shudder. I'll explain another day.
This year went considerably better. I won second place in the Senior Paper division. And The Guy won first place in Senior Individual Exhibit. I noticed him again on the 6:00 news that night when they interviewed him. However, I realized that it would probably be the last time I saw him aside from State competition, when everyone would be so stressed and out of their mind to talk. Also, I didn't know him. I had only noticed him, he hadn't noticed me. And as Mare says, that constitutes as stalking.
And then there he was at Beta convention. I passed him as I was stomping off to my room, ticked off because I didn't want to take the Creative Writing exam that was in a half hour because I hate being forced to write within a set amount of time, and I don't know what I'm going to write about and blah, blah, blah.
Guess who is in my creative writing test.
The Guy.
He was wearing his school jacket so using my genius, Dana Scully, investigative skills I could determine his last name. God. I am a stalker. But at least now I don't have to keep calling him The Guy. Except, I'm going to. Just because I like it.
Later that night I saw him in a campaign, one of the few not using Napoleon Dynamite.
The next night I had to perform on stage in the special talent category. For those of you who don't know me. I play piano. I'm not that great by any means. But I enjoy it and can play a pretty mean rendition of Fur Elise, the staple for anyone who's ever played piano in their life. Blah. But I auditioned and got accepted to perform. And so did The Guy. A normal person would have introduced themself backstage. But being me, I just stood there in awe of his adorkableness, complete with curly hair and spazzy nervous habits.
He played the fiddle in a bluegrass quartet. And while that has never been my personal recipe for the man of my dreams, he was adorable and very good. They all were. They won second place in the competition. Even better, he won first place in creative writing.
Oh. my. God. Smart, cute and creative. I'm a sucker for a good writer. If I had actually met this guy, I think I would be in love. He surpasses Seth Cohen and goes into John Cusack from "Say Anything" range. And he can totally hold his giant boom box and blast "In Your Eyes" outside my window.
Now I have to stop before I get any creepier. I swear I'm not really a stalker. Really.