I’m becoming unrecognizable to myself. What the hell is going on.
Not that anything went on. I’m not that unrecognizable. But still… geez.
So last night at 11:40 (I’d fallen asleep already) I got a text message from Dion. “What are you doing this week?”
Broad question, no?
My reply was something like “Going to class. You?” Keep in mind this is 5 o’clock the next morning. I had to pee. My body doesn’t cooperate with my sleep cycle. Anyways. He had mentioned a few weeks back that I should watch Arrested Development, but I lamented that getting me hooked on another TV show would just make me more of a shut-in. So he proposed a solution. He’d watch it with me, thus ensuring I have at least SOME sort of human interaction.
So the plan was to watch in his room on Wednesday night. But then, on a later Facebook IM chat, he decided he was too excited about watching the show so he asked me what I was doing tonight. I said, accurately, nothing. So tonight, at 6pm, I was at Dion’s door to watch Arrested Development.
We watched the first five episodes on Netflix sitting side by side on his bed as he ate his dinner (and he ate it in a weird order… ice cream cone, then half a sandwich, then some french fries, then Pepsi, then the other half of the sandwich, then more french fries). He made me a family tree so I wouldn’t be confused, complete with character and actor names. It was very helpful.
Then, he had to do homework and I went back to my room, and who immediately started texting me but Kevin, my recent short story’s inspiration (if it helps, I’ll call him “microwave boy”). Yes, that short story was awfully ironic in a lot of ways, but this is the internet and I don’t want to spread anything that might reach him.
Anyways. I have to pass Kevin’s room on my way back to my room, so for good, creepy measure, I take a picture of his door and send it to him. He is amused and asks me what I’m doing. I say nothing. He says he’s watching TV. Then he asks if he can come over, because he’s been bugging me about watching Firefly. Apparently, you can’t be a complete nerd until you’ve seen it. I say ok, and a few minutes later there’s a knock on my door.
So then I spend the next two hours watching the pilot episode of Firefly with Kevin, sitting side by side on my bed. Then he leaves, and my roommate, who came in and started doing chemistry sometime around the first half hour of Firefly, yanked out her headphones with glee. “SPILL!” she commands.
And so I tell her everything I’ve just told you, which, to be honest, isn’t much of a story. It’s just kind of hillarious. Especially if you know me, which most of you do.
I mused about this (in a much more censored way) to Dion, and asked him if I had game. He said yes. “Muy mucho” apparently. So it must be true.
This is an amused webmistress signing off. Oh, Universe, you do such strange things sometimes.
Jenn, my roommate, thinks it’s the hair. I’m inclined to agree. This morning’s bed head was CU-UTE.
