thediastema's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There's also a funny story about where I peed tonight, but I'll spare you. You're welcome. Paycheques were deposited, and then later in the evening phone calls were made, arrangements were made, and the passive voice was used unintentionally. I received instructions to meet my favourite couple in the parking lot at PTC. I was the first to pull in. I let the song play out on my stereo, and then I saw that old blue thing with the Idaho plates park a few stalls over with a long-lost friend at the helm. In six months, my memory of her voice had grown hazy, but I couldn't have forgotten her low, doofy laugh with the aid of a dozen concussions. As soon as we were both out of our vehicles, we were hugging, and squealing like idiots who had spent the last half of a year on opposite sides of the globe, which I guess is only appropriate. She'd had a few days' stopover in Hawai'i to see her older sister's wedding, and from this she presented me with a bottle of pineapple wine, of which I had never before heard. She asked for the news and I told her there hadn't been much, which is true. I asked her for her news, and was deluged upon. Pelican finally arrived another quarter-hour later and the three of us piled into his tiny gold Pelicanmobile. We circled downtown in search of a place to park, which made me reminisce of Toronto, but when we parked it didn't cost our firstborns, which reminded me I was in Salt Lake. Dimples got a jumpstart on her unfinished business from last summer. "So, Erin. Level with me. Jedediah...isn't gonna happen. Right?" I grimaced. "...I'm sorry." "Can I set you up with one of his friends?" Oy vey. "[DIMPLES]!" "Look, come to Dinah's party next weekend, if anything happens, great, if not, great. Okay?" We entered a bar named after its coordinates, and since I forget its coordinates I can't tell you its name. Pelican, putting everybody up for the night, asked if I wanted to do shots. I said I'd rather a beer. With little debate, he ordered me a Heineken and he ordered girl drinks for himself and his lady friend, and damned if I don't think that says something about us. We had either stumbled upon '80s night or gay night. From the incipient Madonna to the large groups of only-guys scattered about, it was hard to tell. We kept to ourselves and shot some pool. After about three beers, it should be noted, I start telling secrets. Dimples and Pelican were just a tad touchy-feely -- an understandable thing after six months of nothing but lusty e-mail and phone sex. (By all accounts, both parties maintained an impressive degree of fidelity during Dimples's stay in Korea -- neither ventured beyond window-shopping.) They were, however, both courteous enough to check periodically that their PDAs weren't making me ill. "You're fine," I kept saying. "You can borrow him for ten bucks," Dimples offered with a smirk. "You're safe, babe. You want my top three giveaways for wanting some guy?" Why, Erin? Why? "YES!" Pelican broke in, a tad slow on the uptake. "BORROW ME?!" "Relax, she doesn't want to." "DOESN'T WANT TO?!" He pouted. I curled up into a fetal position in my cushy chair and nursed my glass like an infant on the bottle. With both hands. "Erin, you were saying," Dimples pressed on. "I forgot." "Three things?" "You know, and I don't think there are three things! But one, is...my toes wiggle." I demonstrated, exaggerating the cracks forming in the cheap Shoes That Look Like Pants which I had chosen to wear. "Is that, like, a sublimation thing, or did you just notice yourself doing it one day?" "I just noticed." "But did you notice, or...? Uh, my English is shot, by the way." "Yeah, it was grade 8. I had a thing for this left-handed boy who played the flute and I looked down one day...and they were going nuts." "I've never seen you do that." "He played the FLUTE?" Pelican broke in. Beer makes you smart, kids! "Okay, what's the other thing?" "If I completely ignore a guy." "Okay, I have seen you do that." "Muh?!" "I forget who, but I've seen it." Beer is your saviour, kids! "It doesn't seem to work." "No, I can't imagine it would." "Like, you know the last time I got laid?" "No! Tell me!" "Two words: Clinton. Administration." I'm not sure if it's the bleakness of this truth that makes it funny or if it's the word "Clinton." ~~ In the car ride back, we talked about parties and Dinah and "hanging," and we seemed keen on re-establishing old routines. I suppose the more things change, the more opportunities accumulate to get deja vu when they go back to the way they were before. Come to think of it, all four of the key players in history's weirdest work-related love polygon have a tendency to go back to our roots -- notably to PTC itself, the only thing that possibly could have united us in the first place. Speaking of roots, I did indeed screw with my hair, and it is now about the colour of a well-used broom! I sort of like it but I'm already getting cold feet about the commitment. ~ETK Just got an automated voice message from my alma mater, [East High, where she graduated with honours in '02 -- she's now studying at the U of U] reporting that I was absent from 'one or more classes' today. Um, well, I suppose so... 03:43 - 08 January, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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