Friday, November 14, 2008

hot, steamy buns and warm creamy butter...

I was late to meet Eve last night, racing from work to the Jay 'N Bee and stuck in a parking lot of traffic on Van Ness. I refuse to purchase some type of legal phone/driving device. There isn't an acceptable option and I'm willing to risk the consequences because frankly, my commute is the only time I really have to talk on the phone. Either I'm out, or I'm watching American Justice. Neither can be disturbed, so commute it is. 
I called Kate.
I've known few people since 1979 who are still living. My mom (she was first), my dad (second) and Kate. Kate is the offspring of my mom's college roommate and my dad's BFF since kindergarten. Kate's folks, Dori and Greg fixed mom and dad up on a blind date. Dori and Greg and Mom and Dad were each others' "best" men and maid of "honor." D&G are essentially my aunt and uncle and since Kate's a whole 14 months younger than me, we've been stuck together since 1979.  
Which means Kate knows ... everything. 
And I know everything about Kate. 
Kate often smells food before she eats it. Kate hates cold swimming pools. Kate used to be afraid of (falling) snow. Kate likes 'spooning in general,' Kate used to wear this weird plastic gender symbol necklace that I never understood, Kate was very sick when she was little and had eye surgery, resulting in her needing incredibly strong contact lenses. And when she takes them out she needs ... well, very distinctive eye glasses. 
I've shared a boudoir with this woman more frequently than necessary, and I've seen her in said glasses, which now, due to what I can only imagine to be award-winning technology, look pretty normal. But put 'em on and they'll make you high. 
Kate only wears her glasses during her nightly run from the bathroom to the bed. She's been like this her whole life. I'm used to it. And I'm used to the 83 minutes she needs every morning to get ready. On family vacations, Kate and I tend to go off by ourselves, speak our own language, lock our siblings out, chainsmoke, laugh, cry, etc., so that we can (to the tune of 'Where's your head at') have "Beth and Kate time (Beth and Kate time!)" 
'Beth and Kate time' is obviously sacred and I can reveal little, but to say I've often seen Kate's spectacle spectacle dash from the john to her, non-window side of the bed before she rapidly turns out the lights. And it's my favorite, weirdo, vulnerable thing about her. 
I'm far more of a freak than Kate will ever be, and she's well aware. Golly, my peccadillos number in the thousands. And of my weirdness', her favorites are when I say, "You're terrible, Muriel" and my invented lyrics to The West Wing Theme, by W.G. "Snuffy" Walden, which she asked me to detail here. So in the interest of fairness, because my glasses are for normal people, here you go. 
This is what I sing twice a day, alone or with company, when The West Wing Opening Theme appears on Bravo:

I looooove...The West Wing. 
It's the greatest show on Earth. (on this Earth)
John and Donna Moss, well fingers crossed. 
I hope they hook up, and then wed. 
Sam, yeah not so much. (Ugh)
You're not. as. good. as. Toby and Leo and CJ and everyone else and...
Wing...of the West (you're. the. best.)

So for Kate, oldest and dearest and weirdest friend, yet another thing we share in common...


Anonymous said...

No bluetooth at all? No jawbone? Try a jawbone.

Parting gift said...

New pictures to make fun of
enjoy the trip

Anonymous said...

OMG the one with Gav in the hat is the best!