Halloween Weekend.
Friday. 5:30 p.m. Leave work to drive straight to Cam, the biggest Asian grocer in the city. Stuck in traffic. Damn it. And all I want is a tub of lychee jellies and some pork sung to throw in my oatmeal.
6:30 p.m. Stood in horrendously long line at Goodwill, only to find out the leather jacket I want is not on sale like the rest of the items. I refuse to pay $45 for anything at Goodwill. Leave empty-handed. Make for the mall to find sexy gothic adornments for goth costume.
7:30 p.m. Am stressed beyond belief. My own internal voice has betrayed me. You’re a dumbass, it says to me. You’ve walked twice around the whole mall, you can’t decide if you want knee-hi or thigh-hi stockings, and the only people here who are close to your age are still sucking their thumb. I return the knee-his for a pair of lacy thigh-hi’s. White makeup grease, a black bra, and I’m gone.
8:00 p.m. Foraging in my parent’s house for last year’s goth costume clothes. Cursing…cursing…Ah ha! Found it! I am amazing. No, I am exhausted. My friend’s party is starting. I’m late.
8:30 p.m. I call my sister, Jen, and scream BLAKE SHELTON into the phone. “What?!” BLAKE SHELTON! YOU ASKED ME LAST WEEK WHO SINGS THE SONG AUSTIN AND I FINALLY REMEMBERED! IT’S BLAKE SHELTON! She’s laughing. She’s asks me where I’m going. I spent three hours collecting pieces for my costume. The party’s starting. I’m tired so I'm going home. She says I’m crazy. I laugh.
Saturday. 11:00 a.m. Can’t stay in bed forever. Feel strange urge to swim. Quick! Move before the feeling disappears!
12:15. At the YMCA. Pool is closed for children’s lessons until 1:00. Damn it!
12:30. At another YMCA. This is an adult facility – no children’s lessons to disturb me. Note to self: Always go to an adult facility as you are an adult. You may be wearing a lime green suit, but you are an adult. Go in peace and feel adulty.
1:00. Pant pant pant. Am gasp out of gasp shape. Screw feeling adulty. I’m going home.
3:00 p.m. I have underestimated my laziness. Aforementioned fancy dinner and costume party has turned into “make your own burrito” party at my place has turned into “eat burgers and pie” with no costumes at friend’s house. Thank God for friends.
7:00 p.m. Jason calls on his way over. He has not gotten a haircut despite my month-long sweet pleadings, threats, and name callings, such as “canopy hair” and “overgrown weed”. Rachel’s (suitemate) friend Michael arrives. I jump on the arrival of another penis as an opportunity to rant about men, their smelly feet, overgrown hair, and yet their expectation for women to lay spread-eagle for them in bed. Poor Michael.
7:30 p.m. Party is a success. We are high on burgers, pumpkin pie, spinach dip, guacamole, and fine red wine. I forget about Jason’s canopy hair. I have missed him for a week and I love him.
Sunday. 10:30 a.m. We started the morning with our usual argument: when to get up and who takes longer. Now we’re sitting in church, listening to the sermon. I am looking forward, he is looking at me. He pokes me in the arm. He sticks out his tongue. Are you paying attention?! Why is it hard for men to sit still?
12:00 p.m. I am furious. Jason continues his habit of threatening to smack me around and calling me “ugly and smelly”. I know he is joking. I know he adores me, would never lay a hand against me, and cries when he wounds me. But oh the stares we get. They don’t know he is joking. They look on me with pity as a victim of domestic violence, and they stare at him as the perpetrator. To make it worse, he kicks me as I’m talking to a sales representative at Victoria’s Secret. Now I’m furious and embarrassed.
12:30 p.m. We meet Jason’s extended family at Maple Knoll, a retirement community, for lunch. Jeff and Alice, Jason’s brother and sister-in-law, arrive with their two small children, Kahlan and Bailey. I am telling Alice and his Aunt Jeanine about Jason’s atrocities and they are shocked. Jeannine tells Jason’s grandmother. She pauses. “Not my child,” she shrugs.
We should get together sometime, I say to Alice, thinking she could understand since she and Jeff are currently separated. You know, since we’re with the brothers. She smiles and shakes her head. “Oh no, Jeff’s not that bad,” she says. “Not as bad as Jason.” I am so encouraged.
2:00 p.m. Walking back to the car. I am ranting. I am raving. I am telling him why I’m angry and what Alice said. He is pouting. “Are you mad? But I love you. I looooove youuu!” He is sticking out his lower lip. I am sighing. He deserves to be smacked, but how can I smack that irresistible face? Shit. I love him again.
4:45 p.m. Jason has gone home to study for a test. I’ve showered, painted my nails black for the big day, and now I’m ready to meet up with him. I call him. He says he has more work than anticipated. We decide not to hang out that night. I wipe away a few tears.
4:50 p.m. I’m sitting on my bed. The room’s quiet. I’ve nothing to do. I call Jason. I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming over.
5:00 p.m. Damn it! I left my black lipstick – a crucial piece of my costume – at my parent’s house. And I was just there on Friday! I am an idiot. I call dad. A miracle – he finds the lipstick. I am a happy idiot.
5:30 p.m. I walk in the door. Dad opens up his arms and embraces me in a hug. A real hug. I’m slightly taken aback. He hands me my lipstick, and I update him about my health and the two new diseases. I can already see his wheels of control and panic turning, so I tell him not to worry. It’s under control. One more embrace, and I’m out the door.
6:30 p.m. Arrive at Jason’s. How’s studying go… He’s playing a war computer game. I threaten to drop a grape into his wine glass. We watch the latest James Bond movie over spiced Tombstone pizza. He points out all the sexual innuendos. It’s amazing how many references one can make to a penis without making a single reference to a vagina. Not one.
9:30 p.m. Eh, to hell with Bond. He lays enough chicks; he doesn’t care about us. We’re going to have our own fun. He closes his eyes while I pull on my thigh-hi’s. “Whoa.” His eyes are popping, I am laughing, and we are tumbling into his sheets.
10:00 p.m. He pulls my arm across his chest until I am snug against his side. He sighs happily and I tease him for loving to snuggle so much. “I don’t know whatcher talkin’ about. Men don’t snuggle. Do you hear me? I. don’t. snuggle.” I giggle. I love you. "I love you too." Life is bliss.
6:30 p.m. Stood in horrendously long line at Goodwill, only to find out the leather jacket I want is not on sale like the rest of the items. I refuse to pay $45 for anything at Goodwill. Leave empty-handed. Make for the mall to find sexy gothic adornments for goth costume.
7:30 p.m. Am stressed beyond belief. My own internal voice has betrayed me. You’re a dumbass, it says to me. You’ve walked twice around the whole mall, you can’t decide if you want knee-hi or thigh-hi stockings, and the only people here who are close to your age are still sucking their thumb. I return the knee-his for a pair of lacy thigh-hi’s. White makeup grease, a black bra, and I’m gone.
8:00 p.m. Foraging in my parent’s house for last year’s goth costume clothes. Cursing…cursing…Ah ha! Found it! I am amazing. No, I am exhausted. My friend’s party is starting. I’m late.
8:30 p.m. I call my sister, Jen, and scream BLAKE SHELTON into the phone. “What?!” BLAKE SHELTON! YOU ASKED ME LAST WEEK WHO SINGS THE SONG AUSTIN AND I FINALLY REMEMBERED! IT’S BLAKE SHELTON! She’s laughing. She’s asks me where I’m going. I spent three hours collecting pieces for my costume. The party’s starting. I’m tired so I'm going home. She says I’m crazy. I laugh.
Saturday. 11:00 a.m. Can’t stay in bed forever. Feel strange urge to swim. Quick! Move before the feeling disappears!
12:15. At the YMCA. Pool is closed for children’s lessons until 1:00. Damn it!
12:30. At another YMCA. This is an adult facility – no children’s lessons to disturb me. Note to self: Always go to an adult facility as you are an adult. You may be wearing a lime green suit, but you are an adult. Go in peace and feel adulty.
1:00. Pant pant pant. Am gasp out of gasp shape. Screw feeling adulty. I’m going home.
3:00 p.m. I have underestimated my laziness. Aforementioned fancy dinner and costume party has turned into “make your own burrito” party at my place has turned into “eat burgers and pie” with no costumes at friend’s house. Thank God for friends.
7:00 p.m. Jason calls on his way over. He has not gotten a haircut despite my month-long sweet pleadings, threats, and name callings, such as “canopy hair” and “overgrown weed”. Rachel’s (suitemate) friend Michael arrives. I jump on the arrival of another penis as an opportunity to rant about men, their smelly feet, overgrown hair, and yet their expectation for women to lay spread-eagle for them in bed. Poor Michael.
7:30 p.m. Party is a success. We are high on burgers, pumpkin pie, spinach dip, guacamole, and fine red wine. I forget about Jason’s canopy hair. I have missed him for a week and I love him.
Sunday. 10:30 a.m. We started the morning with our usual argument: when to get up and who takes longer. Now we’re sitting in church, listening to the sermon. I am looking forward, he is looking at me. He pokes me in the arm. He sticks out his tongue. Are you paying attention?! Why is it hard for men to sit still?
12:00 p.m. I am furious. Jason continues his habit of threatening to smack me around and calling me “ugly and smelly”. I know he is joking. I know he adores me, would never lay a hand against me, and cries when he wounds me. But oh the stares we get. They don’t know he is joking. They look on me with pity as a victim of domestic violence, and they stare at him as the perpetrator. To make it worse, he kicks me as I’m talking to a sales representative at Victoria’s Secret. Now I’m furious and embarrassed.
12:30 p.m. We meet Jason’s extended family at Maple Knoll, a retirement community, for lunch. Jeff and Alice, Jason’s brother and sister-in-law, arrive with their two small children, Kahlan and Bailey. I am telling Alice and his Aunt Jeanine about Jason’s atrocities and they are shocked. Jeannine tells Jason’s grandmother. She pauses. “Not my child,” she shrugs.
We should get together sometime, I say to Alice, thinking she could understand since she and Jeff are currently separated. You know, since we’re with the brothers. She smiles and shakes her head. “Oh no, Jeff’s not that bad,” she says. “Not as bad as Jason.” I am so encouraged.
2:00 p.m. Walking back to the car. I am ranting. I am raving. I am telling him why I’m angry and what Alice said. He is pouting. “Are you mad? But I love you. I looooove youuu!” He is sticking out his lower lip. I am sighing. He deserves to be smacked, but how can I smack that irresistible face? Shit. I love him again.
4:45 p.m. Jason has gone home to study for a test. I’ve showered, painted my nails black for the big day, and now I’m ready to meet up with him. I call him. He says he has more work than anticipated. We decide not to hang out that night. I wipe away a few tears.
4:50 p.m. I’m sitting on my bed. The room’s quiet. I’ve nothing to do. I call Jason. I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming over.
5:00 p.m. Damn it! I left my black lipstick – a crucial piece of my costume – at my parent’s house. And I was just there on Friday! I am an idiot. I call dad. A miracle – he finds the lipstick. I am a happy idiot.
5:30 p.m. I walk in the door. Dad opens up his arms and embraces me in a hug. A real hug. I’m slightly taken aback. He hands me my lipstick, and I update him about my health and the two new diseases. I can already see his wheels of control and panic turning, so I tell him not to worry. It’s under control. One more embrace, and I’m out the door.
6:30 p.m. Arrive at Jason’s. How’s studying go… He’s playing a war computer game. I threaten to drop a grape into his wine glass. We watch the latest James Bond movie over spiced Tombstone pizza. He points out all the sexual innuendos. It’s amazing how many references one can make to a penis without making a single reference to a vagina. Not one.
9:30 p.m. Eh, to hell with Bond. He lays enough chicks; he doesn’t care about us. We’re going to have our own fun. He closes his eyes while I pull on my thigh-hi’s. “Whoa.” His eyes are popping, I am laughing, and we are tumbling into his sheets.
10:00 p.m. He pulls my arm across his chest until I am snug against his side. He sighs happily and I tease him for loving to snuggle so much. “I don’t know whatcher talkin’ about. Men don’t snuggle. Do you hear me? I. don’t. snuggle.” I giggle. I love you. "I love you too." Life is bliss.
posted by The mini ninja at 2:51 PM
15 Comments:
I love lychee jellies! I can eat pounds and pounds of them... in fact I proved that fact one day on the metro ride home from chinatown. mmm, so good!
Also, Alice is a bitch. Would say more, but I shouldn't.
Oh my goodness, you know what lychee jellies are? WOW, I AM IMPRESSED! Everyone at work was totally clueless as to what I was eating. Even Jason looked at them with a raised eyebrow and had no idea what it was. When I told him, he said, "What! Jellies are supposed to be colored. You know, like red?"
Sigh. Yeah it probably wasn't the best thing Alice could have said. In her defense, she's a very young but dedicated mother. We've talked before and she's quite amiable. But she's known Jason for years, and I think she still compares him to what he was when she first met him. Can't really blame her, but we'll just have to prove to her otherwise.
are those jellies sold in something that resembles a jello shot mold? I was always afraid to try in case it was a jello shot and I would get drunk;)
I love your feeling "adulty" outing!
pork sung to throw in my oatmeal.
Wha'? You put meat in your oatmeal? That sounds ... interesting anyway....
I'd wager that you 2 are truly and madly in love.
I too know what lychee jellies are!
Daphne - How funny you should say that! All my co-workers call them "jello shots" as well. However, I assure you that they contain no alcohol whatsoever. It is just pure "plunk in your mouth" jelly fun!
Rowan - I guess pork in oatmeal does sound strange, huh? In Chinese meals, rice porridge with things like pickles, pork, and seaweed is a common breakfast. Since I have no rice pot to make rice porridge, oatmeal seemed like the closest substitute. Plus, oatmeal has fiber...a MUST for my metabolism!
Oh you make me laugh. You're the first person to refer to Jason and I as "madly in love". My first thought was "Why yes, I am mad at him all the time." HA! But yes, despite his incorrigible manners and disgusting hygiene habits, I do love him very much. I wonder how one can tell when they are in love?
Well, you sound like you had an exciting weekend, albeit one that wasn't exactly what you were intending when it all began? And I can tell that you two are in love, it's just obvious - you from what you say and Jason from what he is quoted as saying.
You think so? I don't know, when I think "in love" I think Disney's kind of love...lots of singing birds, ice cream, and nauseating lovesick gazes. Certainly Cinderella would never call her prince "canopy head", and her prince's favorite joke would not involve smacking Cinderella up? But who knows...I didn't grow up with parents who loved each other, so I still have a lot to learn about what love really is and what it looks like. What do you think love looks like?
Leslie,
I love your blog! Fantastic! So glad you stopped by mine...
"I jumped on the arrival of another penis..." I had to read that sentence twice ;)
I used to badger my Dad into getting his hair cut by asking if I could braid his hair. He hated that.
And you just *know* when you're in love. It is truly amazing. I knew it when he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. Plus he was the one to say "I love you" first.
Wow sounds like you had a really fun weekend! Justice for Janitors!
Your H'ween sounds as crazy as mine was, with a very similar ending. Thanks for stopping by my blog, I haven't read much of yours yet, but really like it!
Hmmm...good question. I'm not sure what love looks like. Thor and I are certainly not lovey-dovey. He nags and pokes and tickles, they're his favorite things to do. I nag and avoid being poked and procrastinate. The normal response to either of us saying 'I love you' is 'Good' or 'Yes, you do, don't you?' or 'Keep it up'. But we are in love anyway. What does it look like? Well, since we're in love, then love must, by definition, look like us! As your love looks like you and Jason.
Ah...that was a bit too romantic for me...I think I'll go and nag Thor or something so that this horrible sappy feeling will pass!
Lori - Threaten to braid his hair? What brilliance! I don't know if that will be enough to overthrow his laziness, but if it annoys him, then that's good enough for me!
Morris - Janitors? What? Am I missing something?
Josh - Not a problem. Btw, why are you called concert Josh?
Kimananda - Speaking of being poked (which Jason does A LOT), he loves to stick his finger in my belly button. It's like his comfort blankie...he sticks his finger in there, his body relaxes, and he sighs. I'm thinking this is worse than sucking your thumb? LOL
Thor...what a great name! Is there a story behind how you two met?
leslie - my girlfriend gave me that name when she started writing about me on her blog 'Tequila Red'. You'd have to ask her why she started calling me that, I never really asked her.
I shall have to try your oatmeal idea now! I am not exctly a huge fan of it, but I'm willing to try it.
Yeah, you love him, it shows..
Gab At Les
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