Now that Bio-Girl and Ali went and spilled all my beans (well, some of my beans) I shall now take this opportunity to respond to the many allegations that were put forth while I was away. I just have to clarify a few things, expand on some others, and protect my rep. Because, you know, my rep was so perfect before.
1. First of all, let me elaborate on the moment that Bio-Girl alludes to where I first had an inkling that she and I would become friends. It was indeed in that cesspool of mildewy life jackets that was the canoe rental facility. She did grab some paddles and say “Beam me up, Scotty.” This, alone, was not the reason that I fell just a little bit in love with Bio-Girl. The true reason was because she didn’t actually grab the paddles. She just touched the handles, like they were the ends of big live-wires, and convulsed like she was conducting electricity through them, into herself. As she convulsed, she said “Beam Me Up Scotty” in an ethereal ET-meets-Carol-Channing voice. And she did this in such a way as to make sure that I was the only one who saw it. We barely knew each other, and I was the quietest person in that workplace, yet she had honed in and figured out that inside, I am a sucker for some weird ass funny shit. And she served it up. Awesome.
2. Bio-Girl did pack her bags and up and left me for getting all doctorate of barnacles and stuff. Only she didn’t just pack her bags. She stuffed any and all carrying devices above and beyond the capacity for which they were made. She stuffed pairs of socks under her car seats. She piled clothes up to the top of the roof of her car. She wrapped my legs up in coats until there was no space between my legs and the floor of her car. She even had a box full of cheap wire hangers that she absolutely REFUSED to leave behind. “You can get more wire hangers when you get to California,” Neighbor J and I tried to convince her. Nope. They must have a wire hanger shortage in California, the way she was holding on to those puppies. Please insert your own “No more wire hangers!” Joan Crawford joke here.
3. Yes, yes. I archived years worth of emails, formatted them all and made them look pretty, and printed them out and bound them chronologically in multiple volumes to give her as a present. If this doesn’t make me a librarian, then I sure as hell don’t know what does.
4. Nordic Boy and I serenaded her with “I Will Always Love You.” And it was definitely the Whitney version, not the Dolly Parton version. And I must point out that this was way, way before Lorelei serenaded Luke.
5. On our drive to California, not only did I provide the tunes, I played all the CDs I brought in alphabetical order. Did I mention, um, me = librarian?
6. Alli mentioned the psychedelic wallpaper in my parents’ dining room. She wasn’t kidding, friends. They also have yellow Saarinen tulip chairs and a white tulip table. But the wallpaper is what really says it all. Here’s the proof, I’m not even kidding you:
7. Oh, that nice musician. That story makes me sound so rock star, right? But just when you think that I was that cool, please read number 8, where I will demonstrate the truth of the matter.
8. The Michael Jackson button collection. I know that you’ve just been reading this far to see if I was going to talk about and/or defend the Michael Jackson button collection. Oy. Really? You guys really want to know? I can’t bring myself to talk about it. And, I can’t find a picture of it in action. BUT! I am happy to say that I still have a representative sample of the collection. Please keep in mind, I was eleven. Oh god.
Kiss the rings, I’m out.