then: 3 years ago my best friend and I gave my brother a ride from santa barbara to cal poly san luis obispo on our way back to the bay area. she was moving in to her new apartment in SB, I was keeping her company, and we roped him into helping us move the heavy stuff. he roped in two Swedes from his apartment complex (he couldn’t tell them apart. he was telling us about the time some crazy drunk broke their bedroom window—“right above Peter here while he was in bed,”—and the other Swede chimes in “I’m Peter”—but JT keeps going with his story and also tells how they just love Tweety Bird) and we bought them a pizza as thanks. JT took the whole pizza for himself and was eating it in the back of the car when I noticed some small caves mid-way up some small cliffs as we drove up 101. “wow, look at those caves—they’re so scary!”
“oh my god are you kidding me? you are retarded. caves are totally natural. why the f--- would you be scared of them,” he said with a violent voice.
now: my new husband is out of town so I have JT over to feed him and hike and keep me company. I tried to make black bean soup but it never soupified; it’s just black beans and water and huge stringy onions because my husband is the onion chopper in this family. I’m done eating so I’m dusting the little rafters of our old and darling decrepit little cottage above his head while he’s eating, prattling, “JT I just love windex, I just love it. I was windexing the walls of the closet and I just got this rush of security. and it wasn’t the fumes.”
“you are so cute,” laughing, “and crazy!”
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