Love Makes Things Better. Also, Badly Sung 80s Songs.

Listen, just because my heart’s a little bit broke doesn’t mean that I can’t go out and belt some tunes in front of lots of people and scare them a little bit, right? It’s like chocolate after a Dementor attack. It really helps.

Here are some things I did this weekend to help me not think about my hurty heart.

On Friday night, I went to a party at this place, where every last cheesy song in the world was sung with abandon, despite the fact that I have a bit of a cough. You want to know what? My version of Take on Me by A-ha is hideous, people. HIDEOUS. Unless perhaps you make yourself believe that I meant to do it in the style of Yoko Ono. Which I could have been doing, totally on purpose. You’ll never know for sure.

Two of the things that Nordic Boy has never done in the many years that I have known him: (1) get sloppy drunk. (2) sing karaoke. I have a dream that one day I shall see these two things happen simultaneously in one spectacular night of awesomeness. Alas, Friday night was not that night. I have seen him bust out such lovely renditions of songs such as “Tiny Dancer” or “Fuck the Pain Away” by Peaches in the privacy of our own home, but he has yet to unleash his talent onto the world at large. Some day, my friends. Some day.

On Saturday I met up with Delium for lunch and afterward we were at my house where he noticed an old photo of me, Alli, and Map where I was wearing a favorite Esprit shirt under a Benetton sweater with my teenage acid washed jeans. “I totally remember that outfit!” he said. I love that I have friends from ye olden days that can say stuff like that to me.

That afternoon, I went to a “summer barbecue” at the Soggy Librarian’s house. I put that in quotes because it was raining and in the upper 40s that day, at least when we first arrived. That didn’t stop us from pretending it was summer, especially when it stopped raining and got up to a balmy 50 degrees or so. We barbecued and played cornhole in the wet grass. You will not defeat us, Seattle.

That night, Biogirl, Nordic Boy and I went out to dinner where I ate way too much. Like, Thanksgiving too much. It was worth the belly ache though.

Sunday, I spent the first half of my day over at Biogirl’s house, where we came up with some cockamamie theory that perhaps what a good relationship needs is less talking. We came to this conclusion after about three hours of talking, so I am not sure if that proves the theory or doesn’t.

I then went on a walk around Green Lake with my friend M, who is awesome for many reasons, not the least of which is that she has chickens who lay delicious eggs and she gives them away to her friends. Score! She is also just super kind. What is better than super kind? I can’t think of many things.

I came home to find that all of the furniture in our guest room had been moved out into our dining area, and Nordic Boy had installed beautiful cork flooring in the guest room. And then we danced on the new floor to “Electricity” by OMD, and Nordic Boy made up a hilarious new dance that we dubbed “The Level” and we did that until I almost puked laughing. This is why I love coming home.

I called my my dad, and he told me about something funny that my mom said that day, and he could barely tell it, he was laughing so much, and I could hear my mom laughing in the background too, and I hope that when we are in our 80s Nordic Boy and I can make each other laugh like that still.

We then made a cozy dinner and watched a movie and were in bed by 11.

Thanks, weekend.

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