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Like a fish needs a bicycle, or something. Where's my vibrator?
07.25.04 + 12:58 p.m.

The past couple of weekends have been pleasantly full of platonic rompery, quite blessedly so, considering that the guy I'd been seeing has been ignoring me, hard-core. Or, at least, I like to think it's hard-core.

There's some amount of comfort to be had in the fact that if I am to be ignored, it must be done in a hard-core fashion. Like, with spikey collars and strange potions and lots of self-flagellation on his part. "I must! Conquer! This!"

Whereas, me? I'm fine and quite busy. This scenario of hard-core Kelly withdrawal for him is by no means true, but nonetheless appeasing.


1. My dear friend Courtney visited last weekend, and we hung out and talked of matters big and small, both in my wee apartment and in various SUPAH HOTSPOTS in northern Chicago, such as the vegetarian restaurant and my friends' houses, and the sidewalks in between. I'm to be her maid of honor in August, so of course there were flowers and frillery to discuss, but mostly we just acted like unrefined sillies.

(a) We watched the acclaimed "Pride and Prejudice" miniseries in its entirety, which was awesome. The gist: A bunch of nineteenth century Englishfolk, who are obsessed with money and society, fall in love with each other (or don't) while speaking to each other in thousands and thousands of super-proper words, somehow managing to get their points across despite the fact that they never state them directly. THE MIRACLE OF SUBTEXT!

Good shit.

(b) Walking back from dinner on Friday, Courtney and I were in the thick of some conversation about wedding parties and the life that is to inevitably follow, when some buzz-cutted tough guy tromped up to us, one hand balled into a fist, the other holding a portable CD player.


He was fucking furious. Courtney and I floundered for a second, like, "Um ... I dunno?"

He then said, "Fuck, I'm gonna go BEAT his n****r ass," and, reaching towards us with his CD-Player-clutching claw, said, "Here. Hold this."

Riiiight, Mr. Charming.

I said, "I'd rather not," and he got flustered, said "Fuck this," and tromped away.

What, was he expecting us to hold on to his belongings and continue our conversation, ignoring the pommelling sounds coming from the distance? Incidentally, Courtney and I didn't see anyone around that could have possibly stolen his wallet.

That said, maybe the guy was delusional. It could have been interesting to hold his stuff and stand aside while he beat the shit out of himself in effort to retrieve his wallet, in true "Fight Club" style. (Whoops! That was sort of a spoiler for anyone who hasn't seen "Fight Club." If that's you, just replace "Fight Club" with "Liar, Liar," and we're cool. Phew!) The upside of this is that he definitely would have won the fight and gotten his wallet back. The downside is that he still would have been a frightening, violent, shithead.

(c) Courtney is a devout Christian, and there was a time when I was concerned that this would come in the way of our friendship. Not because either of us is closed-minded or because Courtney has ever expressed concern for my soul or anything, but because her world-view, which is so very dear to her, is something that I fundamentally don't share.

We talked about this for the first time last weekend, and she told me honestly that she is just as glad, and a bit pleasantly surprised, that it hasn't had any bearing on how close we've become. She said that I was the first "non-believer" with whom she had developed such a close relationship.

Yay! I'm her favorite heathen! I feel mighty proud of this, for some reason. And I can't express how amazing it feels that she asked me to be her maid of honor, when our definitions of marriage differ in such an important way. I agree that marriage is sacred, but am not so sure about the whole covenant of God thing. See? Rockin' heathenage. Heathen...ry. Heatheniquity?

2. Last Saturday night we went to another friend's 35th birthday party. A simple night of story-telling and beering, EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THE BIRTHDAY GIRL ARRIVED AT THE PARTY WITH A GIGANTIC ROCK ON HER FINGER!!! Avalanche accident, you ask? Nossir, ma'am. She got all engaged to another friend of ours. Such joy.

3. The following Sunday, I and 6 of my closest friends went to Wisconsin to ride in a hot air balloon, which I'll probably further expound upon at a later date. So fun. Our pilot was a gruff redneck, sort of an asshole, and perfect for his job. Hot air balloons make the same sound as fire-breathing dragons in the movies. PROPANE! TREETOPS! HOVERING! I highly recommend.

4. IN THE SPIRIT OF MOVING ON ... Thursday, I went out with a nice, very smart new boy who designs video games for a living. So, I don't know. It was fun, and he reminds me of so many of the solid, goofy guys that I was friends with in college or high school, but didn't really ever think of dating. But I'd go out with him again. We'll see.

I've noticed a strange trend in my life, that when a first date is going well, I and the fellow somehow end up having an analytical conversation deconstructing lesbian porn. I swear, I'm never the first to bring it up. And it never occurs to me until well into the discussion that it might not be the greatest idea, and that my counterpart in the conversation doesn't have as objective and asexual point of view on the subject.


5. I had a quiet night in on Friday, staying in and indulging my inexplicable fondness for formulaic and poorly acted Disney coming-of-age movies. I rented "Confessions of a Teenaged Drama Queen," which was suitably fun and brightly-colored and awful, and I watched it twice in a row, marvelling a bit over Lindsay Lohan's gigantic rack. I mean, she just turned 18, and she's had this goddessy body for 2 years already. (This is the most googlable paragraph I've ever written.) I have no idea why I love these movies so much. They soothe me and make me laugh.

6. Saturday, I went to dinner at a fantastic Meditterranean restaurant with my aforementioned newly engaged friends. Goddamn, so good. BUT! When we were finishing up our meal, some guy at a neighboring table had an allergic reaction to something he'd eating, and collapsed, wheezing, on the floor. The ambulance arrived shortly thereafter, as ambulances do, and the guy looked like he was going to be okay. He was conscious and breathing.

In the confusion, our waiter forgot to bring me my doggy bag, and felt so bad about throwing away my leftovers that he had the kitchen cook up almost a full meal for me to take home. Score! Thanks, near-death allergic reaction guy!

After dinner, we went to another friends' house, where we listened to music, had some drinks, and watched some "Freaks and Geeks." (Frightfully good and tragically short-lived show. Anyone familiar with it? I was SO like the Lindsay character when I was in high school. Less uptight, but I was the nice girl with good grades whose punkier friends called her for test answers.)

When we arrived at C & T's house, they were playing a CD of CIA serial numbers. Um? Yup. A full CD of a monotone voice reading "1 ... 3 ... 6 ... 0 ... Foxtrot" and etcetera. Um? T likes weird shit.

They then put on a CD of Thai elephants playing instruments, which was really fucking amazing. It doesn't get much better than pachyderm trunks weilding gong-mallets and harmonicas. The BBC can tell you more about it.

I walked home with a borrowed CD and a borrowed book, and a sack full of freshly-cooked Mediterranean "leftovers."

7. Today I'm going to a music festival with some of my favorite friends from out of town, WHO ARE MOVING TO THE CITY!! HOORAY! They should be getting into town any time now. Any time. I should probably shower.

So, yeah. Guy-dissage or no guy-dissage, my life can rock. RAWK, even. In small ways, I sometimes feel that my life is shaping up to be very much like I hoped it would.

Happy weekends, everyone.

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~ Last Five Entries ~

Days and Nights - 10.01.07

Eye-Boners - 07.20.07

Something About My Big Frickin' Bed - 07.11.07

Summertime Fix in Hawaii - 06.12.07

About Zigs - 04.26.07


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