Sunday, October 02, 2005

I've got a bunch of little lumps on my head from yesterday's hailstorm. I ran back inside, but evidently not quickly enough.
Honestly. A hailstorm in October?

When I first met Paul, coming up on a million years ago, he was really just moments from bursting out of the closet like a little kid playing hide-and-seek that just can't wait any more to be found. His mom wasn't a fan at first, and so Alex and I took turns hosting Paul at nights. When it was my turn, I'd sneak him through my window after I went to bed, and we'd huddle under the covers and giggle for hours--it was a month long slumber party. Eventually his mother came around and started trying to set up blind dates with her friends' sons rather than their daughters, but the giggling like eight year olds has held.
He called this afternoon to let me know that he's moving to Maine. He can't take Florida anymore, and I can't blame him. The place is a sink, and since Mark has been dead for years and his mother passed the spring before last, there's nothing for him there. We talk in song lyrics, which is a game that has always been great fun because we don't listen to the same bands so it's like speaking in two different codes.
He stops me with an audible sigh when I get to, "She got a call requesting that she use her words accordingly, but she'll never stand a chance with the one who moves her." I can hear him shaking his head, but all he says is a disappointed, "Mouse."
A million years of friendship lets you know just which buttons to push.

I once dated a man with deliberately rockabilly hair. I didn't hear a thing he said for weeks because I was so distracted by that bouffant.

I'm pretty sure that my headache has reached a point where it's producing BTU's. Ow.

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