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The datebook is still AWL. I expect you to cry a river and leave it on my desk tomorrow morning.
Nick and I conferred via Yahoo! messenger last night. This is the very tail end of it, with names and identifying details changed:
Pie was Giselle's institution, a rather calculating and clinical means of expressing just how hot and bothered one was made by certain individuals as a percentage of the whole. For awhile our entire clique kept "pie chart" representations of our respective libidinous makeups.
As if such things could just be quantified like that.
Nick, Giselle and Ash always had these multiply-fractured circles, sometimes nine or ten different wedges of varying angles.
Mine, by contrast, were usually pathetically whole circles. Theo had my entire pie to himself for a long time; then Nick became a radius and widened to overtake the whole damn thing.
thediastema: Ah, pie. It's been awhile. Go for it.
mymumsabitch: u first
mymumsabitch: :P
thediastema: Well, I told my diary I was pretty much pieless.
thediastema: Since, you know, season's over and there was just one big uniwedge going on.
thediastema: And he's likely out of the picture for good, so...
thediastema: I kind of have this pie tin with some crumbs rattling around in it.
thediastema: And the crumbs wear glasses.
mymumsabitch: names and portions
mymumsabitch: or code names
thediastema: One portion, go bye-bye, zero portions, all of them not belonging to Alistair F. Bespectacled of 7734 Richkid Drive.
mymumsabitch: wow, specific here
thediastema: I figured you'd extract all that stuff sooner or later anyway
thediastema: And you keep secrets well and if you didn't I'd be screwed by this point as it is.
mymumsabitch: good thing for you
thediastema: Richkid Drive. The kid is LOADED.
thediastema: And probably gay.
thediastema: Marvel at my crumbs.
thediastema: Your go.
mymumsabitch: thats it?
thediastema: I work in a theatre.
thediastema: I know few men. Most are attached or even gayer. Or both.
mymumsabitch: no others at all? not even memories?
thediastema: If you could crush on a memory, I wouldn't just have crumbs now.
mymumsabitch: huh, really????????
thediastema: I'd have one big lemon sour cream pie with thick, black-rimmed glasses and hairy legs.
thediastema: But I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman. I woke this morning and said, "you go squish now, alternayuppie!"
thediastema: And, to my indifference, he was not in bed with me to hear that, but all the same I felt there was closure.
mymumsabitch: hey closure is closure
thediastema: Your go already.
[snipped here 'cos I'm no longer hanging on Nick's every word about his pie and he took forever and it was dull]
thediastema: Know what you're going to do?
thediastema: you're going to call Annika and set something up, and the one of you two is going to give me a minimum of two hours' notice and I'm going to actually see you guys
[snipped 'cos he's still yakking about a girl from college and at this point continuity wouldn't allow]
mymumsabitch: erin - probably, that a problem?
thediastema: Nope, that's perfect.
mymumsabitch: hopefully Annika can take a step out of her so busy life
thediastema: She's always got time for us, right?
mymumsabitch: i don't know sometimes
thediastema: She does. She just needs to be reminded.
mymumsabitch: maybe, we'll see
thediastema: I'm serious.
thediastema: I bet my liver on it.
mymumsabitch: we'll see
thediastema: Call her.
["bla bla bla fishcakes"]
mymumsabitch: maybe I'll tell ya l8r ;P
mymumsabitch: when u got more sleep
thediastema: That obvious, eh?
mymumsabitch: yes
thediastema: I probably ought to ship out, actually. If Gail catches me having spent the whole night on the machine, she'll have a cow.
mymumsabitch: get some shut eye, maybe cllu tomorrow
thediastema: Late '80s slang. Yum.
thediastema: Sounds good to me. Take care of yourself.
mymumsabitch: ciao
thediastema: Two hours' notice MINIMUM
He just called now. That's so creepy.
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