Fuck you, Jordan Catalano.

Last night, there was a group of rowdy teenagers over in the remotest corner of the library being SO loud, SO vulgar, that patrons were up and leaving. Then the kids left and, as they were leaving, we basically told them that it would be nice if, next time, they were a bit more mindful of everyone in the library. And then the one girl apparently (I didn't see it) gave me the finger. Becca says it was the half-assed finger. Should I be pissed? Eh. The half-assed, unseen finger is, to my mind, the saddest of all come-backs. It's so noncommittal: not only do you not want the recipient to see what you're doing, you also don't care if your friends notice. And isn't your friends noticing the whole damn point of giving "authority figures" the finger?
I know all this instinctively, because the last time I gave someone the surreptitious half-assed finger was less than a month ago. At a school visit. And once again, we ask ourselves, is Jessy a good young adult librarian because she's got their maturity level?
Apparently, the kids were deep into R. Crumb's book (which caused a big brew-ha-ha long before my time here), and my night's coworker thinks that may have been what got them all riled up. It's kind of annoying, but there's really nothing I can do about the psychology of teenagers, aside to work for a separate enough space for them. It doesn't help that most of the kids in question are pleasant and more or less agreeable in smaller groups. Hell, I've even had normal conversations with finger girl.
The real thing of this was after they left, listening to my coworkers talk about the kids. I would be so, so hypocritical to not let someone vent, especially when I know things have been stressy, but, see, here's the thing: I still identify with those kids. I remember the rebellious bravado that makes you swear super-loud on the bus, or run around Spring Carnival demanding that people pay attention to your rainbow slinky. I'm not making that last one up. And, like the title implies, I was head-over-heals for Mr. Catalano, literacy level be damned. And maybe, just maybe, I still kinda want to be friends with the kids who seem bad and dumb.*
So fuck you, Jordan Catalano. That's why Brian Krakow raped the Pink Ranger, anyway.

*'Course, the one of them let me introduce him to Poppy Z Brite's Lost Souls today--see what I mean about when they're not in groups?