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So much for journal-istic integrity!
Oct. 26th, 2003 01:58 pmMlle. Sarah has been asking me to write about her all morning. I have no idea why, really.
She just walked in--she was going to clean the bathroom, I thought--and said, "Hey, Holly, I can strip for you!" She's still wearing her jacket, scarf, and hat from our trip to Subway (you have to bundle up when you walk everywhere, as we do). As I was just typing that last sentence, her hat landed on my keyboard. She giggled. I clutched it to my chest, saying "I'll treasure this forever!" But I don't know if she could hear me, as "Murder on the Dance Floor" is playing awfully loudly.
She's waving paper towels around now. She's actually doing bad disco steps with the roll of paper towels in one had and our phone in the other.
All attempts at my usual coherence have been totally forsaken in an attempt to convey how crazy my roommate actually is. Besides, writing about her really is better than reading Frankenstein.
Earlier, she was extolling the virtues of the "lesbian" choice in the Halloween costume poll. When I told her that Matthew is apparently gracing us with his presence over Halloween, she tried to integrate him into our sexual-minority Halloween-costume idea. "You could just make a big sign that all three of you wear that says THREESOME." I told her that anything involving "a big sign that three people wear" is funny.
(Matthew said he doesn't want to wear a sign, but alerted me to the serendipitous fact that the word "threesome" contains nine letters, and nine is easily divisilbe by three. I want the shirt that says ome.)
After that, Sarah tried to sing "Invisible Touch" and we got into an argument about whether or not the lyrics are actually "she seems to have an invisible touches," or at least whether or not they should be. I know more of the words than she does--I actually had Invisible Touch on cassette, which seems about right because that's how old I would've been when I thought Genesis was a good idea--but she's definitely funnier.
"I tend not to learn songs by their actual words, but by what they sound like," she stated.
She later added "I have my pants on. Don't worry."
But what does she know; she was singing into the box her Neosporen came in. And now she's correcting my spelling; she says it's with an 'i' at the end. But why should I listen to someone who sings "blah blah blah an invisible touches"?
She just walked in--she was going to clean the bathroom, I thought--and said, "Hey, Holly, I can strip for you!" She's still wearing her jacket, scarf, and hat from our trip to Subway (you have to bundle up when you walk everywhere, as we do). As I was just typing that last sentence, her hat landed on my keyboard. She giggled. I clutched it to my chest, saying "I'll treasure this forever!" But I don't know if she could hear me, as "Murder on the Dance Floor" is playing awfully loudly.
She's waving paper towels around now. She's actually doing bad disco steps with the roll of paper towels in one had and our phone in the other.
All attempts at my usual coherence have been totally forsaken in an attempt to convey how crazy my roommate actually is. Besides, writing about her really is better than reading Frankenstein.
Earlier, she was extolling the virtues of the "lesbian" choice in the Halloween costume poll. When I told her that Matthew is apparently gracing us with his presence over Halloween, she tried to integrate him into our sexual-minority Halloween-costume idea. "You could just make a big sign that all three of you wear that says THREESOME." I told her that anything involving "a big sign that three people wear" is funny.
(Matthew said he doesn't want to wear a sign, but alerted me to the serendipitous fact that the word "threesome" contains nine letters, and nine is easily divisilbe by three. I want the shirt that says ome.)
After that, Sarah tried to sing "Invisible Touch" and we got into an argument about whether or not the lyrics are actually "she seems to have an invisible touches," or at least whether or not they should be. I know more of the words than she does--I actually had Invisible Touch on cassette, which seems about right because that's how old I would've been when I thought Genesis was a good idea--but she's definitely funnier.
"I tend not to learn songs by their actual words, but by what they sound like," she stated.
She later added "I have my pants on. Don't worry."
But what does she know; she was singing into the box her Neosporen came in. And now she's correcting my spelling; she says it's with an 'i' at the end. But why should I listen to someone who sings "blah blah blah an invisible touches"?