Gah! Tomorrow is Friday, the last day of classes. Like I actually needed to remind any of you that. I’m like my mother in that respect, stating the obvious. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves and darned if I don’t do it all the time. While we’re at it, I better just tell you it’s snowing.
So I was just wandering around Barnes and Noble with Andy. We were sort of giving each other Christmas hints when he tells me he’s going to get me the autobiography of George W. Bush. I try to calm myself with thoughts like, “Don’t worry, Bush doesn’t know how to read a book, let alone write one…Andy can’t stay Republican forever, he’s got to figure it out sometime…” After I finish counting to ten and begin to breathe again, I spy the book Sex For Dummies. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to get you this,” I say, and kick the book. We both find it amusing that such a book exists (right next to Depression for Dummies, no less), and Andy is pretty amazed that it’s so thick. “It can’t be that complicated,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re just that dumb,” I say, feeling this is just payment for the George W. Bush threat. This was the intellectual highpoint of the evening. At another point Andy threatened to hit me for dancing to Christmas music because when it comes to Christmas spirit, Andy is Scrooge. All this after I bought his coffee (“forgot” his wallet. Ha.).
My only disappointment in the evening was not throwing a snowball at him. What are friends for?