I do not have anything of a specific nature to tell you all today, but I am certain that if I sit here and start typing, something is sure to come out of my head and through my fingers and through the internets and then out and then it will finally hit all of your eyeballs out there which when you think about it is kind of gross. My brain is touching your eyeballs!
So today is Harry Potter day. You’re probably not even reading this because you’re all out there running amok in your Hufflepuff yellow and maroon outfits. (I know, I KNOW it’s not Hufflepuff. It’s Gryffindor. I was just messing with you. Don’t freak out). Regarding all this Harry Potter madness, I have a little confession to make. The confession is not that I hate Harry Potter, nor is it that I am a raving Potter-Head. It is that I like Harry Potter ok. That’s all. No love, no hate. He’s aa-iiight. As a librarian, I feel strange about this. Like I should have strong feelings about Harry, one way or the other and that I should be able to hotly debate these feelings with anyone who doesn’t feel the way I do about him. But I don’t. He’s like that boy who looks attractive and is nice in every way, who you date occasionally but could never really picture yourself, you know, inviting in to your place at the end of the date, no matter how cute your friends think he is. Is it wrong that I just sort of sexualized Harry Potter? It felt wrong.
In other news, I bought a plane ticket today to go have a weekend of fun with Bio-Girl in foggy San Fran-cheesy!* This is beyond exciting, since I have been feeling all kinds of sad that I am not getting to go on my annual beach trip with my best pals this year. I have such the blues about that, I can’t even tell you. So off to San Fran I go to have some fun, by Jehosphat! In addition, this particular trip marks a great moment in history which is the moment, ten years ago, that I walked in to my first day of work at the canoe rental facility (oh my glamorous past) and met Bio-Girl. Ten years! TEN years!* Never mind that the first few weeks that we met I thought she was too princessy and she thought I was practically mute. We got past all that quickly and now I know that she is far from princessy and goddamn it if she thinks I am anything but Blabby Moutherson. It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
FURTHERMORE. When I talked to her on the phone today and I brought up the ten-year-anniversary of our us-ness, Bio-Girl asked me if there was any way we could get away with registering for this event. Sadly, I don’t think so. This brings me to one of our favorite topics of conversation: Made-Up Events That We Should Be Able To Register For. See, Bio-Girl and I. We want to register for something. Not necessarily together. We haven’t had weddings, we don’t have kids. But just because we don’t have these things doesn’t mean that we don’t want to tell people what to buy for us, you know? Why is it that only wedding people and baby people can tell people what to buy for them? Not fair, right? Hmph.
We also discovered that the ten-year anniversary gift is (traditionally) tin/aluminum. First of all, what is with that traditional list? Does anyone really even use that list any more? Are people really celebrating their 7th anniversary by exchanging wool or copper products? Are people expressing ten years of love with aluminum? We need to get rid of that list, people. But, on the other hand, I must confess that tin/aluminum actually did resonate with Bio-Girl and me. Because we have a joke about tin foil. Yes, there is no end to things I have jokes about.
See, when Bio-Girl was in college, she and our friend Jenny would run around saying, in a weird Angela-Lansbury-as-Mrs.-Potts voice: “Get on the tin foil!” We thought this was so funny. I can’t even think of an example of WHY we would say this. It was during any sort of putting-something-on-something gesture. Like, if you were serving up a piece of cake, you might, as you placed it on the plate, say to the piece of cake “get on the tin foil!” I know. There is no tin foil in the example. That doesn’t matter. It’s just an all-purpose placement statement. There are times, even now, that I will say this phrase to Bio-Girl. I am sure there is some hysterical story where this phrase was born that did have actual tin foil involved. But I can’t remember it, and when I asked Biology Girl, she couldn’t remember either. All we have left of some apparently hilarious moment is the phrase. As we spoke today, and I told her that the ten-year anniversary traditional gift is tin/aluminum, this is how it went:
Her: Ten years is aluminum? So what, I’m supposed to buy you some tin foil?
Me: If you did, would you make me get on it?
Her: Get on the tin foil!
Me and Her: (laugh laugh laugh)…(pause)…(laugh laugh laugh)…(laugh laugh laugh)
Do you think we could register for indecipherable joke commemoration? No?
Rats. I’m going to come up with something. People WILL be buying me presents.
Kiss the rings, I’m out.
*I’m quoting a movie again. Anyone know which one?