I don’t even know what in the hell kind of crazy dreams….

So last night, I had this dream that I was (and I don’t think I was really me, but I could have just been me in a different universe or something) living in some New England-y town with this really beautiful beach.  But the town next to us had a great beach, too, and somebody from ours had gone bike-riding on their beach and left tracks (obviously, because you can’t step on the beach without leaving some sort of tracks).  Big deal, right?  Brush your hand over it, it’ll be gone.

Some psycho girl from that town was pissed off and poured cement all over a really long portion of our beach in the middle of the night, then rode her bike through it so it dried that way.  And then she drew a line where she’d stopped and intended to keep going later on.  She also left some sort of note explaining what she’d done—in the cement.

Well, seeing as how she’d already wrecked it, I didn’t see any harm in adding a little cement of my own—so I wrote her some sort of sarcastic response and let it dry.  I wish I could remember what it said; all I know is, it was funny.  And I became a hero there in our small town for doing it.

So I was telling my friends about it one day while we were in a bookstore, and we were having a good laugh over it, when we were interrupted.

Before I get to the interruption, here’s the background on my dream friends:  My best friend is blind and I guess paralyzed from the waist down, because she’s being pushed around in a wheelchair by one of her older sisters.  Most of them have moved out of the town by now—I guess she had several—but one had remained there to take care of her.  They also had several younger siblings and the older one had kids and stuff…oh, but their mother was dead.  But you get the idea.  Big family.  Many of them were there in the bookstore that day.  As was John Cusack (but not really him—this guy’s name, for some reason, was Glenn—he was just played by John Cusack) who had dated most of the older sisters in that family and was now kind of into the blind one.  I was kind of attracted to him, because he was John Cusack, but he wasn’t interested.  He had some fixation with their family.

My best friend, for many years, has been…I don’t know how to do this without making this fictional girl sound horrible.  The idea, despite what it seems, is that she is to be pitied for this.  Someone has been coming to her for years and threatening her family unless she helped them kill.  The deal was always that she didn’t have to actually kill anyone—her role was to blind this person.  Usually with the use of some sort of poison that did the trick.  Sometimes by actually gouging their eyes out.  The killer had convinced her that this should seem completely fair to her, being blind and all.  I guess the purpose was so the person would have no idea who was about to kill them.  Or maybe just because that’s how the killer dude got his thrills.

I always suspected that this person was Lex Luthor—or perhaps not Lex Luthor (I’m honestly not sure)…maybe just someone who sort of represented him.  The town multibillionaire or whatever.  But he and his personal assistant looked exactly like the ones from Lois and Clark:  The New Adventures of Superman.  I figured his motive was just taking out anyone who crossed him or accidentally discovered how evil he was.

The multibillionaire was dead, but his ex-personal assistant was with some guy in a wheelchair (whom I also knew, upon waking, to have actually been Lex).  They approached my best friend, who, as you know, was also in a wheelchair, and the little old guy in the wheelchair didn’t speak, but the personal assistant was all, “So I’ve heard about your work in…optometry.  I want you to do a job for me.”

So obviously it is them, because how else would they know about it?

And now that we know who they are, we’re trying to figure out how to go to the police with this without getting her entire family killed.  But it’s only her, her older sister, Glenn, and me having this conversation, because obviously the kids don’t know anything.  But we’re her trusted inner circle.

The thing is, of course Lex and Co. aren’t going to admit to any of this, and it’s damned hard to prove, and all we really have of whoever this mysterious killer is is their voice, which is always kind of faked—you know, deep and scary-sounding.

So we’re all talking, when older sister somehow discovers this old diary of their mother’s, and for some reason decides to start reading it out loud right then.  Like, maybe Mom might have known something; who knows?

Well as it turns out, Mom did know something—she never names him personally, but she starts talking about an old “family friend” who was very close to all of her girls, but whom, though he seemed sweet and mild-mannered and boy-next-doorish, she never trusted.  There was something off about him, she thought.  Conversations she had had with him gave her cause to distrust him.  She had even heard him speak violently—if only in jest—and mention, on one occasion, gouging someone’s eyes out to show them what it was like to be the blind one.

Everybody by now, of course, was kind of staring at Glenn—well, older sister and I were staring.  And he was suddenly starting to act very strangely.  Like, he was getting seriously pissed off and yelling, “YOU THINK IT’S ME, DON’T YOU!?  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU THINK IT’S ME, AFTER ALL WE’VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER!  I’VE BEEN YOUR FRIEND OUR ENTIRE LIVES!”  His voice, the blind one commented, was starting to sound like the killer.  That’s when he stalked off through the house, through all the little kids who were staring in complete shock, and outside.  I followed him.

He headed into this deserted parking garage (it was the middle of the night by then) that was really deep and twisty and only had one exit.  And despite the fact that I was fairly certain now that he was a complete psychopath, I was still following him, as he ranted and raved the entire way.

We were standing there, about as deep as you could get into the parking garage, when I suddenly said, rather softly, “Glenn, I’ve just realized something—I love you.”

He glanced at me, but he was doing that anyway off and on, so I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me and was ignoring me—which would be bad—or if he just hadn’t heard.

I figured if he thought I knew he was the psycho, he would kill me right then, so I was pretty much going to die and may as well keep going.

“Did you hear me, Glenn?  I said I’ve just realized that I love you.”

He stared at me for a really long time.  And finally he said, “Really?”

I nodded and said, “Yeah.  I do.”

He calmed down and started walking towards me, seemingly the same old Glenn I’d always known, but then I woke up, so I have no idea if I was about to die or not.  I think so.  I believe he is the one who was in the diary; who else would it have been?  Lex didn’t make sense by that point.

I was just going to make a comment about how I didn’t know where the name Glenn came from, because I’d only ever known two in my entire life, and one was somebody’s dad in Virginia, and the other was a chef from the café last year, when the doorbell rang, and it was my brother’s friend Glenn.  So…that’s sort of weird.  I’d forgotten he had a friend named Glenn.


The other night I had this bizarre dream that was sort of a cross between Dr. Doolittle and The Birds.  I could talk to animals.  The bad thing was, though, that they were all going crazy and becoming vicious, maneating killers.  But they all knew it was coming, so they were trying to warn me.  Like at one point, The Mormon’s pugs came into the café while I was working to tell me.

Later I’m at my old house in Virginia with these two big dogs, and we’re just talking about how they’re going to change soon, and then the one does, right there in front of me, and it pounces on me and knocks me over, and then the other dog immediately pounces on it and they start fighting, and the one that’s still okay yells, “Ginny, I’m going to change!  Run; just run!”  And I run up the stairs.  Remind me never to run up the stairs if I’m being hunted in real life.

And then later I came home and George was leaving.  This was very, very sad…he explained that he had to leave because he was going to change, too, and I said, “No, you can’t leave!  You’re my George!  I love you, George!” and he said, “That’s exactly why I have to go.”

I love my George!


I had yet another one quite a while ago—this was when I was in Illinois—that Brother and his friends found in our basement (we don’t have a basement; we don’t even have two floors) a portal to every other universe in existence.  The way it worked was, they’d jump through it and just end up somewhere, in any other universe.  And then they just had to jump through from the other side, and it would automatically bring them back to here.

These other universes could look very similar to this one, with maybe only a minor difference here or there.  They could also be totally and completely different.  No telling what they were jumping into.

They’d been gone a long time, and I went to find them and bring them back.  So I’m jumping into this thing, and I end up in several different places, but they aren’t there, and then I keep jumping through, and nothing’s changing at all—I’m still in our basement—when I finally realize that it is changing, it’s just so slight I can’t tell, and that they’re probably in there somewhere and I just don’t realize it.

I do eventually catch up with them, and I’m saying, “You can’t just go choosing your own universe just because you like it better!  Haven’t you ever seen The Butterfly Effect!?”

“No,” Brother says, “you wouldn’t let me watch it.”

“Oh…right,” I said.  “Well, haven’t you ever seen that episode of The Simpsons when Homer goes down to the basement with the toaster and things keep changing, and then he runs upstairs and it’s raining doughnuts?”  (This is an actual episode, which I believe is probably the basis for the dream, hence why I referenced it.)

I finally get them back home.  It rains doughnuts.

Sorry the quality of this entry completely sucks; I was rushing to get it all out, just so it’s documented for my own personal use.  There were probably a few more dreams I’m forgetting; I’ll add them later.


Catch-Up Stories: Part Two

Continuing with the catch-up from the last few weeks….

The Mormon called me one day before Doomsday to say, “I was just wondering if I could take you out for dinner next Tuesday.”

“You mean…Doomsday?” I said.

“Oh, it is Doomsday, isn’t it?  Well, that doesn’t even factor into it.  I was just thinking since it was, you know, Tuesday and all, we should celebrate that…not Doomsday or anything.  Completely unrelated.”

“Well…okay,” I finally relented.

So he made 9:30 reservations at this place where they apparently serve ostrich tenderloins.  I’m really intrigued by this.  I will let you know what ostrich tastes like once I have tried it.

And speaking of The Mormon…that story I wrote about before that took place in the car, that was so cute and all…last night he told me he plans to include that scene in a story he’s going to write soon, and he said, “So, you know, if you’re reading it and you suddenly realize that it sounds familiar…that’s why.  Because I’m stealing it from real life.”


I had this dream that I was…I guess on another planet or something, because the sky was a deep plum color, and I was watching a sunset.  It was really gorgeous, like a painting or something—it didn’t look real.  (Maybe because the sky was purple.)  And there was this gold streak against the horizon that grew more and more defined…it was very realistic, and yet not at the same time.  There was no plot to this dream; I just wanted to remember it.


We were all gathered around watching Freaks and Geeks (all meaning Mom, Dad, Brother, and me) and every now and then I’d make a comment about what somebody was really feeling at a particular moment…and at one point, Coach Fredericks is sitting on Bill’s couch watching football, and Bill comes in and changes it to Dallas, and he’s explaining to Fredericks what’s going on.  Mom said, “Does he really care?”

“Well,” I said, “he wants to be on good terms with Bill so he can…no, he doesn’t really care.”

The entire family laughed at that.  That was amazing.  I love when we have actual genuine bonding moments—they don’t happen that often.


The Mormon and I went to Corey’s house the other night, and his wife, Khris, served us these Brazilian drinks—I can’t pronounce it, but it was horrible!  The alcohol flavor was really, really evident.  Like, after one sip, I was breathing fire.

I told them I don’t drink but that I’d taste it.  They gave me an entire glass.  The Mormon told them he doesn’t drink and he’d already tried it and he didn’t want any.  They gave him his own glass.  We were able to pawn one of them off on somebody else and just share one, but even that we couldn’t finish; I think Corey eventually finished it up for us.  Then Know-It-All came in and drank like two of them.  I think I killed some brain cells on one sip.  Nearly vomited on another.  That was not pleasant.


We only have one episode of Freaks and Geeks left to get through, and I am heartbroken.  I’m now completely in love with this show. (I kind of have been since episode one.)  Brother and Dad really like it, too.  I knew they would; it’s their type of humor.  But it isn’t even just that it’s funny—it’s so perfectly realistic, and even though it’s set in 1980-81, I feel like it’s my high school and my friends and my little brother.


I would have thought ostrich would be a lot like chicken; surprisingly, it was way more like steak.  And so was buffalo.  These observations, coupled with the idea that we would never have imagined eating ostrich or buffalo, led to an in-depth discussion on Oregon Trail and the little lessons it taught us:  Never, ever ford a river.  Always make sure your oxen are healthy.  Among other things.  I did say that I’d pondered eating buffalo before.  Like, I’d go to the zoo and see ostrich and never once think, Wonder what that tastes like….  But I’d look at a buffalo and say, “Dude…I used to hunt you in Oregon Trail…I know you’ve got to taste good.”

So The Mormon got me black licorice for Doomsday after we joked about how he hated kissing me after I’d eaten it.  How cute is that?  And he also got me this kick-arse Phantom picture frame that plays Music of the Night, with the first picture of us ever taken.  I’d pointed it out that time we were in St. Augustine and said I thought it was cool.  It is.  It’s even cooler that he remembered that, though.


The secret to not losing track whilst licking the way to the center of any given lollipop is to pause after every ten counts.  That way you always know where you are; it’s the same principle as saving your work in specific places when using a word processor.  The other day I discovered that it takes 507 licks to get to the center of a Garfield Doomsday pop.

Later, when I was finished with the lollipop, just sitting there, minding my own business (well, I guess I was probably about to say something), a ladybug flew straight into my mouth.  I immediately spat it out, but it left a horrible aftertaste like Brussels sprouts, or perhaps grass—I don’t know, something salad-y.  Maybe that’s good luck.  I don’t know.  But it reminded me of Raiders, when the fly crawled into Paul Freeman’s mouth…and never reemerged.


This week I went to the doctor’s office to demand they sign my form.  Then I took all my paperwork to UNF, and Adrianna showed me around campus, like the library and the English department and such.  Just places I need to know the locations of that I don’t.

Catch-Up Stories: Part One

I have so much to catch you guys up on.  Our home computer is dead.  Again.  So I’m sitting here in an Internet café, spending money to bring you this update (which is mostly just a dream, anyhow, but I had to get it written down before too much of it escaped me).  My mom has said she might help me buy a laptop (meaning, she’ll put it on her credit card, and I’ll just pay her for it), so if that happens, I will never have to depend on the home computer again (plus, I’ll never have to share it with Psychobrat).  So that would be rad in an extreme way.  I’m going to just catch you up on a bunch of stories all at once.

Because I don’t believe Cort ever has a chance to look at this anymore, I don’t really feel guilty posting about this here before the next time I speak to her.  I just need to rant.

Nicole informed me that Cort still doesn’t approve of The Mormon, and really, her reasoning does seem to be that she thinks he’s psychotic just because he likes me.  This bothers me.  Yes, maybe just about every other guy who’s ever actually been interested in me has been psychotic to a degree, and I understand the concern, but am I just supposed to never date anyone ever?  Does my judgment mean nothing?  I’ve always been a superb judge of character.  Plus, I’ve never actually fallen for any of the psychos who liked me.  I kept my distance.  I think that should count for something.  I don’t see what the big deal is.  It just annoys me—and it sort of hurts, too—that I finally have somebody who really is very good to me and makes me happy, and now there’s this.  One of my two best friends doesn’t have enough faith in me to choose a decent guy.  That’s what I’m getting out of all this.  And she expressed approval before; I don’t see why it should have changed.

I just have to talk to her, I guess.  *Sigh.*

I thought I would share this quote (my own quote, if you wondered) explaining pretty clearly exactly why I don’t like Doomsday:

“Before I thought I just disliked it because I was single and had no reason to celebrate it.  Now I know I detest it because it’s every bit as manufactured and cheesy and pink and red and vomit-inducing as it was when I was single.  And how can anything that can honestly be described with a combination of words like ‘manufactured, cheesy, pink, red, vomit’ be appealing?”

Well, I was going to post the above like two weeks ago, but whatever.  I believe Katie’s issues with Doomsday are the same as mine:  When you’re actually with someone, being told that you have to go out and celebrate love on this one particular day along with the rest of the world is a major turn-off.  It adds that much more awkwardness to something that is already awkward enough as it is.  And cheap chocolates and tacky hearts just make it worse.


I made The Mormon watch Nanny McPhee with me, and there’s this one part when Colin Firth says something like, “Aren’t my children just delicious?” with a sort of crazed smile, and it was really creepy, creepy enough so that The Mormon and I glanced at each other like, “What the hell?” and The Mormon said, “I can’t envision ever using the word ‘delicious’ to describe another human being in any scenario” and I whispered back, “I don’t know…Colin Firth is kind of delicious.”  The expression on his face in response to that was delicious.

We were sitting in his car later (we spend a lot of time sitting in cars, so if you notice multiple stories starting off this way, just go with it) and I had my head resting on his shoulder, and he was just kind of running his hand up and down my arm, and I looked up at him and he was smiling, like he was just glad to be there with me.  Well…it was cute.  He didn’t know I was looking at him.  So then I sat up and smiled at him, and he said, “What are you thinking?” and I said, “I’m just thinking that I’m really happy to be with you.”


Brother and I were watching Freaks and Geeks yesterday, and it was the first episode when the boys are getting ready to fight Alan, and Brother said, “What is this, the nerds against the nerds?”  It was very funny the way he said it; then later, Alan leaned into one of their faces (I forget which) and said, “I’m sorry; I don’t speak Geek!” and Brother said, “Are you sure about that?”

A couple weeks ago, Brother, Mom, and I were watching Superman, and Superman tells Lois how he’s fighting for truth, justice, and the American Way, and Mom said, “So, what—Superman is only here for Americans?”

“No, Mom,” I said, “it just means that he believes in the American Way.  He’ll still help people from other countries.”

Brother said, “Dude, whatever.  Japan can get their own superhero!”

It was just so completely out of nowhere that I laughed very hard.


What else can I tell you about?  Oh!  On a recent work night, Michelle and I made a voodoo doll of Turtle, and then a bit later we decided to make one of Dennis so he would have company, and we set them both aside in a frying pan we were no longer using, and Turtle came out and said, “Well who’s the second one now?” and we told him, to which he responded, “Great—even when I’m a fucking voodoo doll in a frying pan, I’m still stuck with Dennis!”

In case you’re confused, “voodoo dolls” are things we make in our spare time on slow nights when not many people are coming through our line.  Usually we only do this on breakfast-for-dinner nights, because breakfast foods make the most fun fillings for the dolls (rubber gloves that we tie off once they are stuffed).  Scrambled eggs, grits…that sort of thing.

Later we had them all guess which ones they were (we made one of Maryann, too) and Dennis looked through them, pointed to his, and said, “Well, I can’t be that one, because I don’t have shit for brains.”  (Dennis had hash browns in his, with peppers and tomatoes and stuff.)

Also, Turtle did not know that he was called Turtle until tonight.  (And I’ve been calling him this since I met him like a year ago.)

I was about to tell him about our upcoming Friday Movie Night, and I said, “Hey, Turtle!”

There was this horrible pause as Michelle laughed out loud at me, and Turtle whirled around and finally said, “What did you just call me?”

An even longer pause as I tried to think how to answer that.  Finally I said, “Oh, you knew we called you Turtle!”

I might mention that Turtle received this nickname because he looks remarkably like the turtle in Master of Disguise.


I’m actually going to make another entry to share more catch-up stories from the last few weeks because this one is getting so long.  See you soon!

A Trip to Amish Country

One of the first things I noticed about Illinois—because it was dark when we finally arrived there, so the only things I could really see were street signs—was that there was a town called Effingham.  Effingham.  That is a really funny name for a town.

Effingham is somewhere between Champagne and Decatur, apparently, because that’s where it appeared on all the signs.  We spent all our time traveling between these two towns (and we made a trip one day to St. Louis).

As my subject implies, we were right in the heart of Amish Country.  Farmland for miles and miles on either side of the road.  Just endless barns and cornfields—dead, as it is the middle of winter, but cornfields nonetheless.  There were all these signs with pictures of horse-and-buggies, and “NEXT 5 MILES” written underneath.  And names like Lindenmeyer, Vyvenberg, and Schrock.  (Say that three times fast.)  Lindenmeyer, Vyvenberg, and Schrock.  Oh, and Aschermann.

Of course, my only concept of Amish people at all comes straight out of Witness, so I was not at all expecting Super Walmart to be the first place I ever saw an actual Amish person.

They looked like my concept of Amish people from the top down, except where they were wearing what appeared to be Skechers, or something to that equivalent.  All of them.  They were all in sneakers.  And there was this one kid who had glasses that just looked so…well, not Amish.  I don’t know how to describe them.  Too modern, I guess.

They were all over the Super Walmart.  A family back in the photo section, a woman pushing a cart in the direction of cosmetics, another family in front of us in line, buying…a rug.  Amish people.  Buying a rug.  Like…don’t they make their own rugs!?  When they noticed us behind them, they let us go ahead, so we turned and thanked them, and they said you’re welcome, and then we were all excited because the Amish people spoke to us.  And they smiled, too.  They were friendly about us geeking out over them.

And I’m not sure how they all arrived at the Super Walmart, either, because when we went out to the parking lot, I didn’t see any horses.  And I looked!

I did finally see some horse-and-buggies a few days later when we were up quite early in the morning, driving through cornfields.  So that’s cool.  I don’t really know why it was so interesting.  But it was.

The very next morning after our arrival, it snowed.  That was the first time I’d seen snow since we moved to Florida.  I miss snow.  It was as beautiful as I’d remembered.  There was one morning we were sitting in the car, and there was frost all over the windows, and the sun was shining through it, all gold and orange, and for the briefest moment, I had the sensation that that must be what it was like to be the Snow Queen, sitting in her castle of ice.  I really love snow.

The temperature each day really fluctuated.  Like, the first day, the high was in the 20s, but the next day it was in the 50s.  I think the highest I ever saw it while we were there was 57.  And I loved it.  Everybody else complained and got sick, but I loved it.  (I got sick as soon as we returned to Jacksonville and our stupid 75-degree January weather.)

As Cortney’s mom put it the morning we saw all the buggies and I got all excited:  “And people say there’s nothing to see in Illinois.”  And she chuckled.

By all means, read on if you are afraid of clowns.

But first, a Brother quote!  Brother, looking through the mail this afternoon:  “‘Falkor Jones’.  It’s six days until my birthday, and even the dog is getting more mail than me.”

I just wanted to preserve that quote before proceeding with the stupid clown dream.

The entire family had moved to a new state or something.  And then I went driving, and, as I didn’t recognize the area (we’d either left the state or the country, one, I’m not completely sure—I think just the state, although there is always the possibility of our having stepped into another universe), well…you know how I am with directions.  I got lost.  Brother was with me.  We ended up in this little…town, I guess…and there was this one building that for some reason we decided to buy tickets to enter.  The whole place was hailed as a big tourist spot.

So we stepped inside, and it turns out that this town was the site of some huge natural disaster from I have no idea what time period.  Everyone in the town had died.  Everyone.  But relatives of these people had moved back in, cleaned everything up, and the town had prospered since then as a tourist trap.

Mainly because of the building we were now in.  It was sort of like a museum—they’d reconstructed what they thought life in this town was like, mostly with wax figures.  (At one point, I commented to Brother on how it was like one of those stupid movies with the wax things that come to life.)

There was one room with…I think, actually, it was the band from Titanic—all in top hats and playing music (well, there was no sound, but that was the idea) and I started wondering if that was the time period, early 20th century, but then other stuff looked way more modern, and all these wax things were really realistic….

There were a couple rooms that really made me feel like I was in another country—parts of a specific location that has been in my dreams before, but I can never quite place it.

We’re not the only ones in there—it’s like the middle of the day, and there’s a teacher in there with her first grade class, or something.  There were other people walking around.  And I think it was when I saw the class that I suddenly remembered having read about the town when I was their age.  (No, it doesn’t really exist; this was just in the dream.)

And then we’re standing in one room, and there’s this really scary-looking clown standing there, frozen.  I’m standing right in front of it, and I say to Brother, who has already mentioned that he thinks all the wax people are sort of creepy, “Now that is truly frightening.  You know, I never really understood those people who were afraid of clAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

I had intended to say, “afraid of clowns, but this one really is evil-looking”…but I never finished the sentence, because the clown moved, and I jumped back so far, and I experienced a moment of blind panic in which the only things going through my head were, Cortney was right—clowns ARE evil! and HOLYSHITTHISCLOWNISGOINGTOKILLME! 

I took off running, really hard, and it’s running after me, and I’ve gone out this side door, and now we’re outside in the sunlight, and he’s still coming after me, and then of course, I fell, because that’s what always happens in moments like these, and he dropped down and was lying right on top of me, staring into my eyes all evilly, and then a whistle blew from somewhere.

“Damn it, I’m off the clock,” he said, and stood up.

This meant that his shift was over and it was time to get out of his work stuff (the clown makeup) and let somebody else take over.  So this new guy who had very similar makeup but was obviously a different guy stepped into place, and I went back inside with Brother, who was all, “That was so freaky!” and the clown who had attacked me had gone, and I was standing sort of near to the new clown, who kept stealing grins at me, but I knew he wasn’t going to attack me because I was already in on the joke, or whatever.  He just kept chuckling.  I glared.

Then I found this brochure thing on the museum, and I’m looking at it, and there’s a place with the pictures of all the different guys who play this clown thing, but I can’t find one who looks enough like the one who’d attacked me, and I said out loud, “Well where the hell is he?  I can’t find him!”

Then there was this deep, growly voice right over my shoulder—and I felt the breath on my neck—who said, “That’s because I’m not in the brochure, sweetheart.”

I jumped again, and the clown next to me laughed, and so did the voice behind me, who of course happened to be the one who had attacked me, except he was no longer wearing makeup or a hat or anything, he was all clean, and…it was Dane Cook.  Except I don’t think it was really Dane, I think it was just some random dude who happened to look exactly like him.  But anyway, he and the new clown are just laughing at me, and I’m getting more and more pissed off, and then I woke up.

End scene.

Being Devious

Katie and I are going out with the boys next Friday.  And then on the phone earlier, The Mormon and I were discussing evil plots and such, and one of us gave me the idea of Katie and me suggesting some ridiculously horrible movie to them just for the sake of being evil.  We’d be sitting in this awful movie laughing the entire time because we’d known it would suck before we ever left.

Then I remembered an announcement of sorts that Katie and I decided we have to make to them the next time we’re out—the fact that neither of us celebrates Doomsday.  (And then we’re going to make them ask what exactly Doomsday is.  It’s Valentine’s Day.)  I informed him that we had to tell both of them at the same time so that they would believe us.  So I said, “Remind me we have to tell you something, because I know we’ll forget, and that wouldn’t be good.”

“So you’re going to make me remember to remind you what you refuse to tell me now?  And I just have to wonder about it for a week and a half!?”

“Well, you’re not going to forget it, are you,” I said.

“You are evil,” he said.  “Cute, but devious.”

Then I remembered how we never even carried out our In-Depth Evil Plot.  I don’t know that it’ll ever happen, actually, but I reminded him of how we’d been planning something.  He came up with this whole idea…we were going to get both of them drunk, take them out on the beach after dark, and leave them.  We would go running off and sit in the car to laugh evilly.

“Oh, much more detailed than that,” I said.  “We even had secret signals and such.”

I was quiet for a moment, then said, in evil tones, “We should go out on April 1st.”

NO!” he said.  “No, I refuse!  I absolutely refuse.  There will be no phone calls that day; there will be absolutely no contact.  If you send me an e-mail, you will get a notice that says it was deleted unopened.”

I, of course, was cackling throughout this, and then I said, “Well, it’s all right.  When I tell Katie about this, we’ll probably come up with the idea of naming one of the other 364 days April Fool’s, just for our own purposes.”

Damn it!” he said.  “I’m going to be completely on edge every day now!  I don’t know if I want to still go to that movie next weekend.  From now on, you’re just coming over to my house.  We will not be going out.  You can come over here, and that’s it.”

Still laughing, I said, “One of these days I’m going to be able to call Katie up and say, ‘Guess what!  He built a bomb shelter!’”  Mwahahahaha.

The Mormon, Work Anxiety, Some Black Licorice, and a Luncheon Meeting

First of all, I would just like to say welcome to my new readers!  Thank you very much for following.  Please don’t be shy; feel free to drop by and introduce yourselves sometime!

I’m not going to school this semester.  Not by choice—just because the school and the doctor’s office are both run by incompetent gits.  So I now have four months to give them both hell.  I will be going next semester.  Of course, by that time, I will be the equivalent of one year behind schedule.  Brilliant.

I did start back to work again this week.  So I mean, I won’t be a complete loser for four months.  Oh, but I’ll feel like it.

For the past couple months I’ve been rather silent on the Dean the Mormon stories, but no more.  I’ve decided I’m way past the don’t-kiss-and-tell stage now.  (He’s my boyfriend; we kiss.  There.)  So now I can tell stories as they arise without feeling guilty or having to put the lock on, which I dislike doing.

So…speaking of Dean the Mormon…we went to St. Augustine the other day just to be tourists.  I got lost on the way to his house.  (He lives about an hour away from me, and see, I suck at finding places on the first or fiftieth times, and I suck at giving directions.  I’m just not good with this kind of thing.  As I was trying to explain to him, when I learn to drive someplace new, I have to learn it in both the light and the dark, because they both look way different to me, so it’s like two completely different routes.)  Also, I’d never seen it in the light, and it was light while I was trying to find it.  I did manage to find my way out in the dark later, which is saying something, as there are very few lights out where he lives.

We were headed into a bookstore a few minutes after we arrived, and there were some other people headed into the store, coming from the other direction, when The Mormon paused and had that look of, ‘Hey, I know you’ on his face.  Then they paused, too.  And when I saw that they had a baby, I knew that this must be Trask and Co.

Trask is one of The Mormon’s best friends—the one who lives in Gainesville with his wife and their baby, whom, when he came out, Trask said looked like something out of The Dark Crystal.  (Apparently he’s grown out of that stage, because I couldn’t really see it.  And believe me, I looked.)  Trask is also the one who calls dozens of times during two-hour make-out sessions because he knows that when The Mormon isn’t answering his phone, that’s what’s going on.

So they just happened to be going into the same store as us on the same day at the exact same time.  I love weird coincidences like that.  Anyway, so as we parted ways, Trask shook my hand and said, “It was lovely to finally meet you; I’ve heard great things.  This guy has really fallen head over heels for you.”

We went into some candy store later and argued for a while over whether black licorice is good or bad, and then we got a bag of various things, and I put a scoop of black licorice in it, and so then I stuck a piece in my mouth, and he informed me coolly that I was not going to get kissed for an hour.  I laughed and ate more licorice.

We went to the fort, the name of which I can’t remember, but…you know…the fort…and joked about the two-hundred-year-old graffiti on the walls (I’m serious; there was stuff carved from like 1800-something) and some General or Commander Pratt.  And then we made Pratt jokes for the rest of the time we were there.  (Example:  There were several spots where you could, even now, quite easily fall from the upper level to…way far below, and I wondered aloud how often that must have happened back in the day, and he said he didn’t know but it must have happened, and it must have sucked, and I looked down below in this mournful sort of way and said, “Oh, there goes Pratt.”  Stuff like that. ‘Twas fun.)

Then we went to this 50s diner where they actually played all 50s music (which was really cool because I knew every single song, some of which I hadn’t heard in…well, many years).  And back to his house again to watch Say Anything, this kick-ass British show called Spaced, and a little Battlestar:  Galactica.  At one point, he stepped outside to smoke, and his brother came out and said, “Where’s Dean?”

“Oh, probably outside smoking,” I said.

“That was enthusiastic,” Jeremy (the brother) said.

“Ha…yeah, well…I’m just going to eat more black licorice to get back at him,” I said, and ate about six pieces.

I checked the caller ID this morning and discovered that yesterday, while I was out, another stalker called me.  For the first time in months.  This guy liked me back when I was in my journalism class a year ago, and he liked a few of my friends, too.  He did a story on HP fandom, and asked for some of my friends’ names to interview them.  Then he started stalking Katie.  He’d come up to me and ask if I knew where any of her classes were, or when (I very coldly informed him that I did not), and then sent her an e-mail, which I actually still have.

From April 1, 2017…April Fools’ Day, go figure:

“Hey there,

Just wanted to say that it was nice talking to you and thanks for your oppinoin [sic] on the new Harry Potter book.  Also, if we can meet up sometime next week, can u tell me what u look like.  Maybe that way it will make it easier for me to find u.  For me, 6’1”, dark short brown hair, glasses, 150 lbs. hazel eyes.  I like HP, photography, paintball, watching tv, playing my Game Boy, going to the movies, listening to HP audiobooks.  What do u like to do?

Thanks, Colin”

This guy was really weird, if you haven’t already guessed that.  He had this creepy, halting sort of speech, really slow, with odd inflections.  Like a poorly-made robot.  He tried calling both of us several times after that, and neither of us ever answered again.

Tell me, what is with these people, and how do I keep meeting them?

So I went to lunch with Milo today…hadn’t seen him in a few weeks…and this scary thing happened when I got out of my car.  We were walking into the restaurant, side by side, and I don’t know, I guess obviously there’s some pent-up stuff inside, and now I’m not afraid of hand-holding like I was two months ago…anyway, as we were walking in, I tried to grab his hand.  I don’t know what was going through my head.  But I brushed against his arm with mine and reached down for it, and that was the exact moment I realized what I was doing and jerked my hand away again like I’d burnt it.  I don’t think he noticed—I sort of played it off like I’d just walked too close and then lengthened the distance between us.  But then later we walked over to Target and I did it again!  So I just crammed my hands into my damn pockets and kept them there.

(I would just like to say, for those of you who are wondering, that no matter what my feelings for a certain other concerned party, I would never cheat on The Mormon, because for one thing, I’m just not like that, but for another…he’s a really freaking great boyfriend.  I couldn’t ask for better, and I like him a lot.  And even if Milo finally came to his senses all of a sudden and realized that he should have been with me all along…I’d make him wait indefinitely.)

So afterward I went back to The Mormon’s to watch more of Spaced.  That show totally kicks ass, I’m telling you.  Like I said, it’s an hour drive, and I knew that it would be really difficult trying to find his house in the dark, so the entire way there, I felt like I was trying to outrun the darkness.  As I explained to him, I kept checking the rearview mirror, and I could see the sky behind me getting darker and darker, and I was going faster and faster, when at last I hit the traffic on San Jose, and the darkness was coming much more quickly.  But I actually made it just in the nick of time, when a sliver of light still hung in the air.

And now I s’pose I’m finished for the evening.  See, I told you there was a real entry coming soon.