Thursday, July 21, 2005

a Joke and Zelda

quick joke: I was watching a Collin Farrell movie with this gay friend of mine. He says to me, "Girfriend, Collin Farrell is sooo hot. Give me one hour with Collin Farrell and I'll turn him gay like that [two snaps]!" I said, "Please, give me five minutes with Collin Farrell and I'll turn him gay like that! [one little weak snap]"
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Roommate Good's girlfriend was visiting again from Colorado this past week. She is a sweet, well-meaning nut job. I wouldn't go so far as to compare her to Zelda Fitgerald, but that is only because I never met Zelda. For the purposes of this blog post let us call my roommate's girlfriend Michelle, because that is her name and well... I'm lazy.

A couple of Saturdays ago I entered my apartment around 3am. As I was preparing myself for bed, Michelle came bounding out of her man's room. "Ooo, Rachael you're up." If only I had thought to pretend I was sleep walking. We entered into a discourse where she lectured me on how women don't need to have men or children and I nodded my head. Then she suggested we become a writing team. To write what exactly, I'm not sure but I nodded my head. Then she quickly went to the kitchen, came back with a mug of white wine, and made herself a comfy seat on my bed as I sat in a chair. Poor Jack. It was if she didn't even notice him sleeping in the bed. At some point in our conversation she decided to give me a psychic reading.

She took my hand into both her hands, which I have to admit was kind of nice. She asked "You have a brother?"
"No."
"You're father has a brother?"
"Yes."
"Has he passed?"
"No."
"Well, he's a sounding board for your father."
"Is that what you call arguing?"
"Shhh. Shhh."
And so it went until 5:30 in the morning.

Now, I feel I might have screwed up this reading, which I never asked for, right from the begining. Michelle asked if I had a brother. And technically I don't have a brother. Technically, a brother is a flesh and blood male that one's parents also raised. I do not have one of those. However, my parents did invent a son, Stephen, about four or five years ago. They said they wanted to know what it felt like to have a successful child. Supposedly, he's a business consultant in London. (They continue to talk about him despite Edward Albee sending my parents a cease and desist order.) So my answer "no" was not completely accurate which I'm sure threw her whole reading off. Because if my parents can have conversations with Stephen, why not a drunken girlfriend of my roommate at 5 in the morning? I bet you my brother Stephen had some great pearls of wisdom to offer me too because according to my parents he is just the most amazing person ever. Oh well.

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