Merry Christmas

So, it happened to work out that Cake Woman is free tonight, and Lisa invited her over to have Swedish meatballs, because that’s Lisa’s tradition. Now, it also happens that Lisa invited my mom and her husband, and, even though everyone knew who was going to be here, it didn’t quite hit me until I was making my third batch of gravy, because I needed one for the beef meatballs with beef drippings, one for the turkey meatballs with turkey drippings, and a third because I didn’t make enough of the first two for proper ladling over the requisite mashed potatoes. Lisa made all the hard stuff, I just sweated and whisked while freaking out over my mom meeting Cake Woman and Cake Woman meeting my mom. Thank booze for wine!

Theoretically I am wrapping Cake Woman’s present right now, but since I was kind of shaky I thought that maybe I should take a moment to breathe. I get panicky when I cook for other people and when I give presents. At least I bought all the presents I needed before I ran out of money.

Okay, once more into the breach!

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You’re Supposed To Lean The Other Way

I forgot to mention that Cake Woman was ripping ass in the booth and aiming them at me. She’s so very classy!

The part that really makes me laugh is that the other night I let a loud one go for shits and giggles, and she turned to me and said earnestly:
“Whoa, you never fart!”

That statement was so ludicrous that it almost couldn’t be a joke. Have I been holding them that well? Well then, time to let loose and deflate my midsection. It will be nice to wear smaller pants.

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I Give You Three Months

I was having a crappy evening (at least I’m completely done with the semester) until Cake Woman decided that it would be good to go to the Flameburger. Her tall (and oftentimes hilarious) friend Dan was coming too, and Cake Woman said that I would be allowed to break the news that she and I were dating. Apparently we are dating. I found some pants and drove like a bat out of hell to get there.

I had suggested that I find the least appropriate way to let him know, and she had agreed, but I chickened out of my plan to kneel under the table amidst the grease and discarded french fries and orally service her. Instead I just sat on the same side of the table as her and announced that I wanted to sit with my lady. We were awfully cute (or just awful and cute) as we smiled and secretly held hands. I think that Cake Woman had been holding back some stories from Dan — now that I was no longer her secret shame she could reveal that she had related a terrible dream to me upon waking up — with me.

Dan mentioned that his Danly duties have been lightened since I acquired a phone that actually rings when Cake Woman calls. Cake Woman informed him that he should buy me a present for taking over his job. I just rolled my eyes and remembered the late night phone call from a couple of weeks ago where I tried to inform her that I wanted my life to be a Cake Woman-free zone, partly because I did not want to be the new Dan — not that I’m anywhere near tall enough. He’s like six foot twenty.

I had to struggle a bit to keep up with the mountains of inside jokes, and I heard a few things that I only wish that I could unhear, but Dan is good folks, so even though he smoked Camel filters the whole time I was glad to have chatted with him. He told tale of recently hanging out with a friend who fished a week’s worth of cookies out of a Holiday dumpster while passing the doughnuts by, because:
“Fuck doughnuts, man!”

Indeed. That’s how I paid for college this summer.

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Truth be told, I’ve had better semesters.

Current mood: Elliot Smith

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It is snowing in my favorite way outside. Also, on my webpage, unless your browser is no fun. I hope you like snow.

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Cake Woman called at three am when she got off of work. I had fallen asleep in bed with the tv on. We talked for a long time and some of it was important. I really like her, I always have.

Now I want to draw octopi and robots.

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Just Go To Sleep

I’ve mentioned my complex arrangement for acquiring conscious thought in the morning, but I don’t usually talk about my process for sleeping. Basically it is like this:

  1. be awake
  2. start to feel tired
  3. go to bed

That’s fairly common methodology, except that I usually don’t get tired until two or three in the morning. Tomorrow I have a final at 8am. Fortunately for me, it is in Algorithms and Data Structures, which has been a cakewalk for me. The only thing that worries me is waking up on time. So, in addition to the usual warning sirens, vibrating attachments, lights and music, my cell is set to beep at me, Lisa will hopefully come upstairs to throw water on me. She promised that it wouldn’t be holy water this time, so maybe I won’t end up all burned again.

It’s time to curl up in bed with Family Guy and maybe the latest in the Robert Jordan series. If that doesn’t put me to sleep, I don’t know what will.

Okay, I know, a warm body next to me — that would help, but, uh, after a few hours the body would start to get cold and stiff. Gross. You can’t get a good night’s sleep while trying to spoon a corpse. You just can’t.

Believe me, I’ve tried.

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Giggety giggety.

Allll riiiiight.

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Best Blonde Joke Ever

Best Blonde Joke Ever

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What About the Cake?

Allusions have been made, but I’m waiting for some paperwork to go through before I say anything. Hell, Cake Woman and I haven’t even been on a real date — what am I saying? It’s like we’ve been dating for months, except that she routinely called me creepy and gross. Actually, I kind of miss that — she’s been eerily nice this week, almost as though she actually likes me.

For all those people who said that I was crazy for hanging out with her so much, this is not why I was hanging out with her. Amidst all the confusion of the last eight months Cake Woman and I had a bunch of really good times. Any new developments in our friendship are in a different area altogether. Change might fuck everything up, and then who would go to the museum or eat “hot dogs” from Superamerica and “burgers” from White Castle in one night with me? On the other hand, what new lady would let me hang out with Cake Woman?

“She made you a cake? Hell no. You are not going over there and getting drunk again.”

It’s kind of reassuring when Cake Woman threatens to get rid of me after a week. Business as usual.

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