come along, fool
My life of excitement has been... exciting. Lots of school work, of course, and lots of Joe.
So Thursday he brings me home, and I have notes all over my door... A couple weeks ago I contested my power bill (that said I had used 3,000 kilowatts per day) and instead of sending me a new bill like that they said they would: they just disconnected my power.
I got it turned back on just in time to re-freeze all the thawed meat in my freezer: just the way I like it.
When I realized my power was off I called Jason (physicist) and he was here in five minutes. Dinner. Drinks. Karaoke.
So while at Bear's (the dingy, dark-wooded bar polished by the years of bodies sliding in and out of it) I received two pleasantries.
#1 - the bouncer let me in with no cover and complimented my bleached lockes,
#2 - when two girls sang my signature song, (Me and Bobby McGee), they left the stage before the finale, so the emcee urged me on stage to wail the last, "hey! hey! hey! Bobby McGee yeah!!"
But I was sore, from my warrior poses at yoga the night before, so Joe took me away to his home.
Friday night I met the linguists at the Irish Lion for pub food and beers before we recoursed to the union to bowl. I used to be a bowler. Now I am not. There were a ton of linguists there, and I really enjoyed getting to know them better. Paul and Louis kick ass.
After I shot 70 Jason brought me out to his place for Jay's birthday party (23 consecutive years), afterwhich I drove George home. I'd never seen him so drunk. He fought me tooth and nail, too, but I won, and he slept safely in his own bed.
Joe picked me up, then, and to the Vid we went until the weee hours. I sort of felt bad for Joe because I spent a lot of time talking to this guy Steve who recognized me from school and stuff. When "Steve" asked me what I was doing afterwards, I realized that my drunk ass might not have made it too clear that I was "with" yonder Joe... So I worked in a cheek-kiss for my boy at some work-inable time after telling "Steve" I had prior engagements.
I'm not used to this. This has gone on a while.
So last night was the mad scientist party at Dr. Rawlins'house. Band. Kegs. Cognitive Scientists.
Dr. Rawlins (or, Gregory) carried a stethescope and a fifth of Courviousea - the latter as a "prescription" for inspection with the former.
I demurely told him my insurance covers prescriptions.
He applied the stethescope to my chest. Lower. Lower still. Then he produced the cognac and administered a couple sips for me.
Joe came in closer to make sure everything was okay, and made some joke about the quality of a physician's insruments, Gregory said we were funny, and invited us out dancing in a couple weeks.
Crazy, crazy school.
One lady said she loved my costume. I told her I was Frankenberry. She said she liked it better as a Pink Nothing In Particular.
Maggie's grandmother passed away. She may not be in NY when I go on Friday.
I can't wait to see my kids!
Joe worries that he'll hurt my feelings when this stops being "cool" and I say that it'll be my fault for giving him feelings to hurt, but he thinks that's silly.
