The Tired Librarian

At a time when the gold standard for edgy librarianess is announcing in clinical detail what lengths one will go to obtain an iPad on the social networking milieu of choice during an ALA conference, the message is clear:

I am officially behind the curve.

Because of the profound blow this realization delivered to my pop culture psyche, I vowed to come up to speed stat. So in the interests of full librarian stereotype disclosure, I bring you…

…my attempts at hip librarian street cred:

Day One: Spend valuable library instruction prep time searching Urban Dictionary for abbreviated NSFW words to craft provocative tweets. Due to inexperience, the tweets devolve into a miasma of confusing acronyms, resulting in my being elected ALCTS president.

Day Two: Decide to have the LL! name cutterized and tattooed as a tramp stamp. After being talked into having it translated into Chinese characters by the tattoo artist, I am later shocked to learn from a exchange program of drunk Chinese catalogers I have the phrase “incandescent cauliflower taunts cleanly” inked across my tailbone. Resolve to investigate why drunk catalogers from China merit their own exchange program.

Day Three: Tired of the Lipstick Librarian! nom de plume, plot to come up with a new one. Realizing the addition of a Anglo-Saxon epithet before the word “librarian” is soooo 2009, I come up with one that’s part T.I., part ALA: Lil’ Biblio.

Day Four: Refuse to work reference desk due to library administration’s reluctance to let me answer all queries via auto-tune. Instead stand silently in front of patrons and respond by playing a repertoire of Lil’ Jon videos

Day Five: Determined to be at the forefront of cutting edge footwear I don heels made out of real lobster claws at a public services retreat. After three steps, the left shoe collapses, necessitating a visit to the closest urgent care clinic. Library resist my attempts to claim the incident as a workman’s comp issue.

Day Six: Undeterred by disastrous shoe wear attempt, begin stitching together a jumpsuit made of ALA tote bags and vendor foam stress balls, with fossilized mini-pastries swiped from a no-host roundtable breakfast as accents. Dismayed to learn underpaid library techs wage fight clubs for the right to nibble the pastries the week before pay day.

Day Seven: Attempt to release an unauthorized sex tape of myself. After registering with hundreds of dating sites and accruing fistfuls of restraining orders during the course of attempted videotapings, I accidentally upload a video of myself taking a disastrous leap during an ALA book cart drill team rehearsal. The library denies my efforts to bill them for doctor visits, stating “going viral” isn’t a legitimate medical condition.

Day 7.5: The book cart drill team video becomes an internet meme, resulting in my scream auto-tuned and incorporated as the refrain in a hip-hop rendition of the mishap. Due to its monumental popularity, Library Journal pronounces me a Mover & Shaker for fifteen minutes.

Day 87: After several interventions, dozens of red velvet cupcakes and a week of missing time, I come to my senses. Judging from the Sephora and Etsy bills and the international arrest warrants, it’s been quite a ride. Swearing never to adopt any trend younger than my last tweet I torch the evidence, except for the letter inviting me to join the drunk Chinese librarians on a tour of UK libraries….