TR and I have been discussing in-depth my newest obsession: Tiny Houses.
TR: SICK! I want one!
G: i KNOW. i could DRIVE TO VISIT YOU IN CHI-TOWN AND YET STILL BE HOME. also, it's awesome. I want the XS model, I think. it's the TINIEST. Tiny House would CURE ME of claustrophobia with it's charm!I love that "tiny house" Geico commercial from a few years ago.
TR: I think I could actually live in one of the larger "tiny houses."
It would suck for entertaining, though.
G: yes. all my parties would be picnics outside.
TR: "May I fix you a Sprite? Oh, I'm sorry, I can't, I live in a tiny house." I'm terrified. I don't know how to live anymore.
G: "Why didn't you pay income tax this year? but... but... I live in a tiny house. I am crippled by fear of everything. including taxes. And animals bigger than a pencil eraser. and Big Sky Country."
G: what if you built a MEGA tiny house. omg with a tiny moat. !!!!!
Other IMs of note/goings on around teh DC-Metro area:
SB: also! some guy just walked by in a suit with a crown of roses on his head yelling "Peace love and rock and roll! i am the bride of satan!"
G: I SAW HIM YESTERDAY - NO LIE - HE WAS IN PENTAGON CITY - OH MY GOD. Well, if he was wearing a business suit and had a briefcase, he was totally the same guy.
The N. and I had a mutual accquaintance back in ye olde glorious university days. Actually, he was one of those kids who was an accquaintance of the whole damn town - involved in everything, preternaturally smiley, and usually started sentences with some sort of half-jig/backslap/hug with a slight feel-up/high-volume "HEY GUYS WHATS HAPPENING SEE YA AT HAPPY HOUR BE THERE OR BE SQUARE, KNOWWHATIMSAYINBRAH!" He wore a lot of button down shirts. He painted his face for football games. He was a movie character, the guy who gets his convertible stolen by freaked out teenagers in John
(I'll interject here briefly- the term "douche" was used occasionally. Mostly under the breath. But really, truly, he had a great heart. I think.)
Boy, did he ever love hime some college. He loved it so much, he kept coming back. I shit you not, he had 3 majors and as many degrees that I KNOW OF. He wasn't the type who stayed around and took 7 years to graduate - he just kept coming back to graduate again, and again, and again, because he couldn't bear to leave.
He also had unnaturally small hands.
It became a running joke between a select few of us - the elf digits. The creepy handshakes, the fluttery little back pats during the ever-present hugs, the icky feeling you'd get when he'd put his tiny raccoon paw in the small of your back (also note: an inappropriate-small-of-the-back-toucher).
This is sounding cruel, I know. But there are other, more sordid details. The highly inappropriate attempts on friend's ladies, well beyond the signature hug-greeting. The reported plagiarism. The... evolution from a well-meaning, harmless guy who was - hey, actually fun to see occasionally - into a total prick.
I'll stop. After all, perhaps after graduation (#20), he changed for the better.
Anyways, that is all in the past. TH is getting married this summer. We weren't invited, because we havent seen him in a billion years, and uh - aren't really friends, anyhoos. But a gift*** has been discussed. If you'd like to know more about the most awesome, INTERNATIONAL IM brainstorming session to hit in recent years on the topic of "What The Gift Tag Should Read," just ask.
(* best blog-mistype ever!)
(** this guy is not to be confused with previously mentioned "Fearless Leader," (ref: the title of this entry) because there's relly no salvation for that dude besides a good smack in the head from a 1984 Volvo S40, if you know what I'm sayin, and I THINK SOME OF YOU DO.)
(*** 1 OXO slotted kitchen spoon with an easy-grip handle. I know, we're terrible, but it had to be done.)