Random Esquire

1.  Are you people sick of me talking about Besos all the time?  Because I’m almost making myself sick.  I’m not sure what happened to me but I’ve turned into a complete idiot.  The other night, we were in bed and she said, “I think those are the best pictures of me that I’ve ever had taken.”   I said, “Honey, that’s because no one sees you as clearly as the person who loves you.”

And then we both froze in place.  She reached over and put her hand on my leg and rubbed it.  I said, “OH *gag*, what is happening to me?!”

2.  Did I mention that The Ballerina moved to Seattle?  And that’s she’s going out on Saturday night with Bev and Lynchseattle to get blynched?  Well, it’s true.  And I’m jealous.

And nervous.

I feel like The Ballerina should come with a disclaimer.

1.  On Friday, Little Filthy went to the vet for a check-up.  He got microchipped.  I mentioned this to Besos.

She said it sounded like a good idea.  And that she was going to consider getting me microchipped as well.

WTF.

2.  I told Besos today, “You need a husband.”

She said, “Oh, yeah, I guess.   Whatever.  Did you see American Idol tonight?”

*stomp!*

3.  So.  I told Besos I was in love.  Here’s how it went.

I screwed up my face and called up my courage and said, “I’m in love with you.”

You know what she said?

She said:

“I know.”

*Blank Face*

1.  I need a wife.

I told Besos.  She looked at me and said, “Amazon Prime.”

Have I mentioned that I love Amazon?  I do.  She knows this.

I looked at her.

She said, “Honey. Free shipping. You can’t beat it.”

2.  I told a friend that I needed a wife.  She ignored me.  Then she told me about how great it was to have an intern in the office because she can say, “Here.  Take this unpleasant task and do it.”

And then I realized that I didn’t need a wife.  I need an intern.

3.  Then I remembered all the trouble you can get into with an intern.

I need a wife.

I was walking in the lobby of my office building when I, apparently, caught the eye of a Hispanic man who clearly thought I was Hispanic, as well.  (Dark hair, dark eyes, etc.)  However, I am not Hispanic.  He must have been trying to locate an office.  He asked me something in Spanish.  I then realized that I know how to say two things in Spanish.

a.  Es una amiga, nada mas. (She’s just a friend!)

b.  Entiendo un poco de Espanol. (I understand a little bit of Spanish.)

Mind you, I have no idea on the spelling because I only know how to say these things – not write them.  I’m already illiterate in another language. I love it.  ANYWYAY, I chose to say the second.

I smiled proudly and said, “Entiendo un poco de Espanol!”

He smiled broadly back, a look of refief on his face and then he asked his question again – only more slowly and a little more loudly.  Then I realized something.

I had just lied to him.  I don’t understand a little bit of Spanish!  That’s just the phrase I learned but there’s nothing true about it.  I don’t understand any Spanish, really.  Except, of course, I had just told him that I did and that had encouraged him so he was speaking more slowly for my benefit.

I’m a Spanish liar!

1.  I get these dumb ideas sometimes.  Most recently, I thought maybe I would only speak in song lyrics to Besos and I’d see if she noticed.  This idea came to me when I told her that I love her and she responded, “All of me?”  I wanted to say, “I could not love you any better…. I love you just the way you are.”

I suspect, however, that she would be unamused very quickly.  Plus, I think after writing that song, Billy Joel promptly dumped his wife and married Christie Brinkley.  So, you know….never mind.

2.  I spoke with the Italian.  He complained about not having sex.  It has been six weeks, mind you.  When I told him that six weeks wasn’t a lifetime (especially for a man who attends to his own needs more times in a day than I blink), he kindly informed me that his days without sex are like dog years.  He also informed me that he now loves T of Quest for T.   He did this by calling me and saying, “Finally, some good has come from reading your blog.”  Apparently he clicky and he likey.

I wanted to sing, “Neeever gonna get it, never gonna get it. Never gonna get it, never gonna get it.”

But I didn’t.

3.  I had dinner with Instigator last night.  She told me pregnancy and birth stories.  She had three rules for her husband regarding the birth.  1) Show up.  2) Don’t faint.  3) Be quiet.  And then she told me (as I went pale) the most disturbing parts of giving birth – for herself and for her husband.   I started to go blind at the mention of a large funnel.

The thing is, I think I asked her about how bad pregnancy was.

And after hearing, I wanted to sing to myself, “Whhhyyyyyyyyyy….  I tell myself too many times why don’t you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut.”

[Edited to add] Well, since Besos busted me out…I’ll admit.  I did call her and sing to her.  I sang I just called to say I love you. BUSTED.