music: “Bring it Low,” Juliana Theory
So I talked to young David today, for the first time in nearly a year. It was fun, and we sent each other lots of pictures. Apparently, it seems as though I’ve changed more than he has, although I don’t really believe that. He looks totally the same, and I feel like the old me just as much now as I ever have. It’s very hot seeing pictures of him all over Italy, though. Rowr.
I went to yet another ISM presentation yesterday, Jason’s stunning sales pitch for Air Force pilots. I enjoyed myself immensely, and gave him a really good score on my evaluation. And then I bounced all over the room because talk of F-16s reminded me that My Dad Is Coming Home In Two Weeks!!!
Today was marginally silly. My favorite quote of the day: “…and it wasn’t just Wurzbach, it was HARRY Wurzbach!!” That, I guess, is funnier to people that live in SAtown because Harry Wurzbach is the name of a street.
I put a curse on Roxie. She and Brandon came over today, while I was upstairs, and proceeded into the kitchen where they excited my dog so much that she peed on the floor. A lovely, round yellow puddle of dog pee. I tried to make the two of them clean it up, but Brandon works at the wild animal reserve and spends the day shovelling tiger poop, so I let him off the hook. Rox was such a prissy, she refused to go within ten feet of it. (She also refuses to go within ten feet of my dog, because Delia licks her toes. She claims this terrifies her. She’s insane). This meant that I had to clean up the puddle, which didn’t bother me because I used to have to do it all the time. But for the effort, I still managed to put a curse on Roxiekins, and I hope she had a terrible day today! (Okay, not really, I love her. But it would have been kind of ironic and at least a little funny if she had had a bad day, right?)
So I went to therapy tonight, and this hot guy that I’ve seen there before comes in the waiting room. It’s just the two of us, chillin out, and he shoots me this dazzling grin and asks me, “What are you here for?” Realizing that this is perhaps the dumbest question you can ask in a therapist’s waiting room, and that he probably only asked it for lack of something better to say, I decided to mess with him a little bit.
“I’m here for surgery. They’re removing my liver.” His eyebrows lifted but he laughed. I threw his own question back at him. “So what are you in for, then?” He shook his head and said, “I’m here for therapy.” Now, I couldn’t let that one go by, so I said, “Why did you come here then? You ought to be at the hospital, where the surgeons work.”
He laughed again and I was fairly certain I had him hooked. He asked me what was wrong with my liver, and I told him nothing, just that they were removing it for fun. Conversation drifted around prom, our schools, life after graduation [he was a senior, too], and who knows what else. When he was called in for his appointment, he winked at me and waved. /sigh! Man, why do I have to move just when I find all the hot guys?
I’m sleepie and I’m going to bed. /yawn.
P.S. Go see AnnaJo's lovely new journal, when she posts an entry that is. <3 Chjoey