1. When you first see me, don't say hello. Just say my name and then lean in to kiss me, especially if we've never met before. That will definitely alarm me.
2. Bear an uncanny resemblance to my least favorite OCD housemate of all time, aka "Creepy Carl." You don't know that you're doing anything? so it's not really your fault? But still, thoughts of you: a) insisting that I scrub the outside of the milk jug as soon I get home from the supermarket, b) composing songs in the middle of the night that all sound like "Happy Birthday" written in a minor key, and c) compulsively eating oatmeal out of someone else's favorite yellow bowl every day until you break it- haunt me. THEY HAUNT ME.
3. While we're waiting in line at the coffee bar, and I point out that the faux caramel topping looks a little scary in its big, economy-sized tub, place your hands on my shoulders to block your view of it and say "Don't move. I'll look at you instead."
4. Being me, I inevitably almost spill my mocha latte frozzochino thingy as soon as we sit down. After I instinctively lick the whipped cream of my hand and then apologize, because it was kind of a gross thing to do, you say: "Why are you sorry?" Then I say, "Because of that embarrassing food thing that just happened?" You say, "I didn't see it." Then wait a few seconds and say, "Actually I did see it. I liked it. Do it again." After I stammer "Oh! No. no no no..." You should definitely say, in a deep serious tone, "Do it again," prompting ME to say, "NO" in a deep, serious tone that would make my tae kwon do instructor proud.
5. After I tell you that, "no, I wasn't scared while I was backpacking through Europe by myself actually," you should tell me about your female friends who were violated on a similar trip. Spending 30 seconds stammering around the phrase "dry-humping" is especially reassuring.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
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3 comments:
Oh my...that's bad. Really bad...tell me those are just theories you've come up with and not ACTUAL scenarios.
Hi Angela... welcome!
I promise you, that all actually happened on Saturday. And yes, he totally leaned in to kiss me before he said hello. I jerked my head away really fast and he ended up with a mouth full of my hair.
This was not the Peach Pancakes Guy, by the way. Luke said it best- Peach Pancakes probably had an 80% chance of being a serial killer. This was the guy I couldn't understand on the phone, who is, to the best of my knowledge, in Mexico right now.
This sounds like the crazy guy that my friend Megan ended up on a blind date with. We now just refer to him as The Devil. The Devil spent 15 minutes of their 30 minute date trying to make Megan guess "what color bike [he] we like." No, really. "What color?"
Our conclusion? "The color of crazy."
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