There are many things I've been meaning to tell you, then I get here to my computer and forget. I am doing the same thing with Ned, who is finally in New York, and every time we talk or email I think, "Oh, yeah, I was saving up to tell him..."
Why does that happen?
Anyway, the FIRST thing I wanted to tell you was the other night I came home and plopped my own self on the couch tout suite. I actually have no idea what "tout suite" means, but I think it means, like, right away. I was tuckered out, and wanted to rest my eyes a minute before continuing on with my pressing evening.
The moment I am remotely still in this house, all 72 animals get on me. I am not even kidding you. It's all, oooo, she hestitate one minnit? get up on dis. I haven't peed alone in six years. So anyway, that night, Lily immediately jumped on the couch and curled up right against me, which is cute.
A minute later I felt a terrible nearness, and when I opened my eyes, there was Lu, eyes boring into both our souls. And instead of just jumping up and getting near me some other way, that dog got on her hind legs, and with her dog arm, just SWOOPED poor Lily off the couch. You know that gesture you'd make if you were to dramatically sweep everything off a desk? Like they do in movies before they have sex, and I don't know about you, but office desks never really get me in a mood. And the whole time I was doing it, I'd be thinking, Right after this we're just gonna have to clean everything up.
The other thing I've been meaning to tell you is on Friday night I am going to the movies with my hot friend Dan, who you all got so enamoured with when I showed him two other times. Y'all need to calm down. But you're not the only ones; all of my single friends are all up into him, as well. Dan is a lovely person, but he's no Ned. Y'all missed the boat when you didn't get with Ned before I got to him.
Anyway, somehow my hot friend Dan and I got on the subject of JDate, which is a dating site where you meet Jewish men. "I'm going to start my own dating site, Methodist Date," he wrote me. "All the men on there will be sort of liberal but too quiet to really take a stand. And we'll all wear cords and button-downs in our profile pictures. Our religious affiliation will tell you nothing about how we're endowed."
Who loves his own Methodist self? "We'll have banner ads for pleated khakis and frozen yogurt. Oh! But remind me to put down that I'm a playa," he wrote.
Okay, whatever with him. But I love the idea of MDate. I'm so inventing that and stealing his entrepreneurial dollars.
And speaking of loving our own selves, today my boss was talking about how his neighbors have rats. "It's really a problem," he told us, as opposed to work's new open floor plan, which is not a problem at all, because as you can see it does not encourage useless conversations. "My neighbors live in a really old house, and apparently there are all kinds of tunnels under these old houses, so that's where the rats come from."
"Wow, it's like they have HarriRAT Tubman," I said.
I wish I could tell you the amount of enjoyment I got out of myself for that one. Remember when Mr. Roper would just smile at the camera? I was like that.
I guess those are all the pressing things I had to tell you.
After work today, I got up with all of my coworkers, who are all named Alex. I would love to fill you in on what we discussed, but there was not one iota of anything appropriate to tell you. Do you enjoy my from-outside art shot? I am Diane Arbus. I am HarriRAT Tubjune.
This Alex thought today was the chili cookoff day, when in fact it's next week, so he brought his giant pot in and we all had some at lunch. Later in the day we got a company-wide email reminding us the chili cookoff is next week, so all of us forwarded the email to Alex. We are a laugh riot. A buncha funny Alexes. Is what we are. Maybe I'll change my name to Alex. Kind of fit in better. Or, HarriRAT Tubjune.
I GUESS that's all I have to tell you. Just two more sleeps and Ned is back. As I said, Friday night I have a movie with hot friend Dan, then Saturday night, Dick Whitman is having a party, and after it's over I will drive to Ned's because he will finally be getting home. If his flight gets cancelled Ima cut a bitch. Ima swoop someone off a couch.
Let's just hope it all goes well. Because I'm on edge. Having Ned withdrawal. I'm jonesing. I'm Nedsing.
I'm done now.