Imagine this scenario:
Me on my hands and knees (no you pervs, keep reading), scrubbing and shining the black ceramic tiles in my guest washroom. In the background my computer is spitting out all sorts of music. My MP3 player, set at random selects John Williams' Imperial March -- otherwise commonly known as the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars.
Nerds around the world consider this their national anthem. I've heard it in everything from car horns to cell phone ring tones. Everytime I hear it played it pulls a "fucking nerds" commen out of me.
And why I have it? I have no clue. How's it playing? I have no idea. One second I'm bopping to 50 Cent, the next second it's this enchanted space shit.
But, to be honest -- "Wow, this isn't that bad! It's kinda cool!"
Just then... *knock* *knock* *knock*
"Oh snap, who could that be? It's probably just one of my friends..."
I slap an empty bucket onto my head and march towards the door carrying a mop!
I unlock the door, pull it wide open...
... and FUCK!
It's the HOT girl from upstairs (and when I say hot, shes HOT -- as in if you're a girl and you're reading this, you're so not as pretty as her... I'm serious... I'm a guy, I know...)
In the background the Imperial March continues to play. Loudly! She looks at me ackwardly. The trumpets blare.
"Uhh hey Shaun, I was wondering if you could help me with my alarm, I can't seem to figure it out... but if you're busy..."But if I'm busy. Great. The frigging hottest woman in my building finally shows up at my door ASKING me to come over to her house, and I look like the 2006 Geek Champion of the world. I can only imagine what she thought!
And it didn't help that I was rocking a ratty 1994 Dallas Cowboy Superbowl champion sweat-shirt from grade 10. Why hasn't my ass thrown that out...
Let this be a lesson to all of you. Jamiroquai -- chicks love him. ALWAYS play this before answering your door.
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