Straight No Chaser

Raspberry

krystle's parents made us dinner tonight, seafood alfredo with corn and potato rolls. then they went to sleep, we went to wal-mart, purchased and played the stupidest trivial pursuit game of all time, then ended the night on a three-hour round of would-you-rather.

i don't remember anyone else's questions, or the answers they received. i remember mine, though. i remember that krystle would rather have a gay son than a fat daughter. that od would rather have a huge penis and a hideous face than have the alternative. that all the guys would rather do just about anything than have sex with each other under any circumstances. and also, that they'd rather carry their own babies, junior-style, than have to suffer the heinous inconvenience of feminine emotions for the rest of their lives.

about halfway through my longest string, chris cut me off to ask why all my questions were so similarly themed. sean answered for me: "it doesn't make any sense, man, it's like, that is her box into which to put all things beautiful."

i'd opened my mouth to respond, but at that point i closed it and let his answer stand. in a sense, it's nice to be understood. even if it's not so much.

we also played quite a lot of egyptian rat screw. every time he missed a hand, usually to me, sean snapped his fingers and said "raspberries." then blew one at me and smiled, not mad. i'm so angry at him for cheating me out of the privilege of continuing to think he's some sort of angel. i really ask for very little, in terms of admiring my friends. and even that, i don't get.

it's almost six o'clock, and i'm fucking exhausted. totally tripping-over-my-own-feet exhausted. and my tonsils are throbbing. i came prepared to write about kailani. i guess it's for the best that i won't be.