Thursday, April 10, 2003
Last night with Paul was great. We have totally fallen into this new routine. I go over to his place right after work and we sit and talk about our days for a few minutes. Usually at this point, he is in bed, naked, trying to coerce me into taking a brief nap with him before we go out for the evening. I always say “no” to the nap, knowing that I will never get back out of the bed. After we wrestle around for a couple minutes, I make him give me at least 3 baby kisses on the mouth (still haven’t worked up to tongue kisses since the whole “Paul won’t touch Joe” scandal of 2003). After this, he gets dressed and we smoke a bowl while picking out a few different places for dinner. I always let him pick a couple different restaurants and then I make the final decision. Of course, he always wants to go “gay friendly” and that bores me, but as of late, I have tried to compromise and have stopped bitching about it.
About this time, The Simpsons comes on and we watch it for its’ full syndicated hour. This show is one of the few obsessions that Paul and I have in common. Rarely a night goes by when we miss the show. One of last night’s episodes was about “Income taxes” and we both agreed that they should have shown this episode on April 15th. Not the 9th.
Well, at the time it seemed like an interesting discussion.
By 7:30pm, the two episodes are over and we have decided where we will go to dinner. Last night, it was “Brunettas” in the East Village. We finished getting ready and were off. Paul likes to walk around aimlessly in the village and I have a HUGE pet peeve about walking anywhere without a prior destination already planned out. If I were a Playboy playmate (which I very well might be some day) I would list one of my turn-offs as “Long walks with no purpose”.
Last night Paul promised that we could go directly to the restaurant without having to walk around for 45 minutes. Instead, he made us stop and look at every plant that was growing on the sidewalk. You see, Paul is obsessed with biology. His major at Boston University was Bio and he lives his life in front of his plants. As of right now, he must have 18 plants in his living room. I tell him that he is not allowed to buy anymore, cuz I feel as though they are looking at me while I sleep. There’s just too many of them for my tastes. Too much of anything gets a little scary.
So, after taking inventory of every new weed that has grown in the last day, Paul and I arrived at “Brunettas”. The place was EMPTY and looked vaguely like a cafeteria. I turn to him and go “I’ll have the sloppy joes. And make em EXTRA SLOPPY FOR ME!” He grinned and we took our seats at a table near the front. Paul ordered a glass of Merlot and I stuck with my glass of water, instead of my usual diet coke. For appetizers we ordered Caesar Salad, Hot Parmesan Pesto bread, and a fritter. We sucked them down in 4 bites. (Keep in mind that we were stoned and food goes down much tastier and can be shoved in like animals)
For dinner, I had the “Chicken ‘Brunetta’” and Paul had the Risotto, due to me telling him to try something new. My chicken was covered in cheese and egg and despite the soggy vegetables and rotting potatoes, it was very good! Paul’s risotto was nasty shit. He ate it, cuz he was starving, but he really was not a fan. Our waitress was a boner and half way through the meal, two other co-workers of hers came in to eat and annoyed the piss out of me. I mean, if you work in a restaurant and decide to go eat there, behave yourself. Don’t act like a jackass cuz you think it’s your right to show off that you work there and are drinking and eating at half price. I scowled at them as we left.
The restaurant blew, so I told Paul that I would buy dessert. I only had $6 on me so I offered to get us some candy or ice cream cones. Paul said he wanted pastries. I hate pastries, but agreed to get whatever he wanted. I picked out a brownie and he picked out the carrot cake. Not a slice, the ENTIRE carrot cake. I didn’t have enough money for that, obviously, so I gave Paul 5 of my $6 and we went home with a gigantic cake. We were going to get the ENORMOUS “Remember September 11th” cake with the picture of the World Trade Centers on it, but thought that it might be stale. For obvious reasons.
On the way home, Paul and I held hands for 2 full minutes! More than we have ever done in public. It was a nice moment that I won’t forget for a long time. We talked about whatever came into our minds and just enjoyed being with each other.
It was a wonderful evening, despite the cafeteria food.
For the rest of the night, we laid in bed naked and watched the news, Friends, and some of That 70’s Show. Since I have been, as of late, sticking my finger into Paul’s belly button, he is now trying to do the same to me. But that shit hurts! Have you ever done it? If not, stick your finger into your belly button and get to know the worst and most uncomfortable pain on the planet. Plus, if you have never stuck your finger in there, odds are that it will smell when you remove it. If this happens, wipe it under your boyfriend’s nose when they aren’t paying attention.
I have a tendency to do things to Paul that I would NEVER want done to myself. First, I rub cold things on his naked body. (piece of ice, cold hands, fudgesicles) He screams and when he tries to do it back to me, I pinch him. And hard. Also, on Monday he said something sarcastic to me, so I stuck my finger into his mouth and down his throat. He gagged and said: “Why would you DO something like that??” He knew why when I proceeded to give him a wet willy with his own spit! GENIUS, right?
Right.
So now, when I am trying to fall asleep, he tries his damndest to get his finger into my belly button. Trying to avoid his hands is fruitless and eventually the whole scenario had me laughing so hard that I felt tears brimming. I squirmed all over the bed until 1am trying to escape his fingers of death.
Yet the minute he started to fall asleep, I jammed my finger to the core of his belly.
Then I laughed as he called me “irritating”. Then I felt bad cuz don’t call me “irritating”.
So I poked him one last time in his button. He was furious at first, but when he saw my face, he burst out laughing and we went to bed cuddling. Me with my palm covering my belly button entrance.
I slept hard last night. Most nights I wake up every couple of hours, but last night, I was like a rock. (can ya smell what I was cookin?) The last dream I had was VERY strange.
Rita and I were hanging out on a baseball diamond and the weather was beautiful. Lots of sun. We were just walking around and talking and she decides that she needs to use her cell phone. She walks a couple feet away and I turn to face the river. (right. River? I swear it appeared out of nowhere, just to give me something to do while Rita was on the phone) After a couple of minutes, I turn back and notice that Rita is walking right towards a deep ravine. I freeze in my tracks as I realize that even though she is holding up her cell phone to her ear, she is sleepwalking and it is up to me to steer her in the right direction. Away from the ravine.
I start to panic as I run as fast as I can to her side. I do reach her in time and I guide her away from danger. As I am steering her away, she rests her head on my shoulder and I realize that she is snoring quite loudly. When we are back on the baseball diamond, I turn to face her and she is snoring so loud that I start to laugh. “Stop snoring Rita”, I say. Her head lolls around on her shoulders and she continues to snore her brains away. “Rita! Wake up! STOP SNORING SO LOUD!”, I yell in her face. I yell so loud that I jerk myself awake.
Paul is lying with his head on my shoulder and he is snoring in such a way that I think he is going to break his nasal cavity. I gently nudge him and he keeps rip-roaring away. Eventually I had to get up and get into the shower and it wasn’t until then that he quieted down.
I wonder where the dream would have gone had Paul not started snoring directly into my ears.
So yeah, that’s that. Weird dream, cafeteria dinner, and severe diarrhea when I woke up this morning.
I told you that Paul and I had a great time last night.
About this time, The Simpsons comes on and we watch it for its’ full syndicated hour. This show is one of the few obsessions that Paul and I have in common. Rarely a night goes by when we miss the show. One of last night’s episodes was about “Income taxes” and we both agreed that they should have shown this episode on April 15th. Not the 9th.
Well, at the time it seemed like an interesting discussion.
By 7:30pm, the two episodes are over and we have decided where we will go to dinner. Last night, it was “Brunettas” in the East Village. We finished getting ready and were off. Paul likes to walk around aimlessly in the village and I have a HUGE pet peeve about walking anywhere without a prior destination already planned out. If I were a Playboy playmate (which I very well might be some day) I would list one of my turn-offs as “Long walks with no purpose”.
Last night Paul promised that we could go directly to the restaurant without having to walk around for 45 minutes. Instead, he made us stop and look at every plant that was growing on the sidewalk. You see, Paul is obsessed with biology. His major at Boston University was Bio and he lives his life in front of his plants. As of right now, he must have 18 plants in his living room. I tell him that he is not allowed to buy anymore, cuz I feel as though they are looking at me while I sleep. There’s just too many of them for my tastes. Too much of anything gets a little scary.
So, after taking inventory of every new weed that has grown in the last day, Paul and I arrived at “Brunettas”. The place was EMPTY and looked vaguely like a cafeteria. I turn to him and go “I’ll have the sloppy joes. And make em EXTRA SLOPPY FOR ME!” He grinned and we took our seats at a table near the front. Paul ordered a glass of Merlot and I stuck with my glass of water, instead of my usual diet coke. For appetizers we ordered Caesar Salad, Hot Parmesan Pesto bread, and a fritter. We sucked them down in 4 bites. (Keep in mind that we were stoned and food goes down much tastier and can be shoved in like animals)
For dinner, I had the “Chicken ‘Brunetta’” and Paul had the Risotto, due to me telling him to try something new. My chicken was covered in cheese and egg and despite the soggy vegetables and rotting potatoes, it was very good! Paul’s risotto was nasty shit. He ate it, cuz he was starving, but he really was not a fan. Our waitress was a boner and half way through the meal, two other co-workers of hers came in to eat and annoyed the piss out of me. I mean, if you work in a restaurant and decide to go eat there, behave yourself. Don’t act like a jackass cuz you think it’s your right to show off that you work there and are drinking and eating at half price. I scowled at them as we left.
The restaurant blew, so I told Paul that I would buy dessert. I only had $6 on me so I offered to get us some candy or ice cream cones. Paul said he wanted pastries. I hate pastries, but agreed to get whatever he wanted. I picked out a brownie and he picked out the carrot cake. Not a slice, the ENTIRE carrot cake. I didn’t have enough money for that, obviously, so I gave Paul 5 of my $6 and we went home with a gigantic cake. We were going to get the ENORMOUS “Remember September 11th” cake with the picture of the World Trade Centers on it, but thought that it might be stale. For obvious reasons.
On the way home, Paul and I held hands for 2 full minutes! More than we have ever done in public. It was a nice moment that I won’t forget for a long time. We talked about whatever came into our minds and just enjoyed being with each other.
It was a wonderful evening, despite the cafeteria food.
For the rest of the night, we laid in bed naked and watched the news, Friends, and some of That 70’s Show. Since I have been, as of late, sticking my finger into Paul’s belly button, he is now trying to do the same to me. But that shit hurts! Have you ever done it? If not, stick your finger into your belly button and get to know the worst and most uncomfortable pain on the planet. Plus, if you have never stuck your finger in there, odds are that it will smell when you remove it. If this happens, wipe it under your boyfriend’s nose when they aren’t paying attention.
I have a tendency to do things to Paul that I would NEVER want done to myself. First, I rub cold things on his naked body. (piece of ice, cold hands, fudgesicles) He screams and when he tries to do it back to me, I pinch him. And hard. Also, on Monday he said something sarcastic to me, so I stuck my finger into his mouth and down his throat. He gagged and said: “Why would you DO something like that??” He knew why when I proceeded to give him a wet willy with his own spit! GENIUS, right?
Right.
So now, when I am trying to fall asleep, he tries his damndest to get his finger into my belly button. Trying to avoid his hands is fruitless and eventually the whole scenario had me laughing so hard that I felt tears brimming. I squirmed all over the bed until 1am trying to escape his fingers of death.
Yet the minute he started to fall asleep, I jammed my finger to the core of his belly.
Then I laughed as he called me “irritating”. Then I felt bad cuz don’t call me “irritating”.
So I poked him one last time in his button. He was furious at first, but when he saw my face, he burst out laughing and we went to bed cuddling. Me with my palm covering my belly button entrance.
I slept hard last night. Most nights I wake up every couple of hours, but last night, I was like a rock. (can ya smell what I was cookin?) The last dream I had was VERY strange.
Rita and I were hanging out on a baseball diamond and the weather was beautiful. Lots of sun. We were just walking around and talking and she decides that she needs to use her cell phone. She walks a couple feet away and I turn to face the river. (right. River? I swear it appeared out of nowhere, just to give me something to do while Rita was on the phone) After a couple of minutes, I turn back and notice that Rita is walking right towards a deep ravine. I freeze in my tracks as I realize that even though she is holding up her cell phone to her ear, she is sleepwalking and it is up to me to steer her in the right direction. Away from the ravine.
I start to panic as I run as fast as I can to her side. I do reach her in time and I guide her away from danger. As I am steering her away, she rests her head on my shoulder and I realize that she is snoring quite loudly. When we are back on the baseball diamond, I turn to face her and she is snoring so loud that I start to laugh. “Stop snoring Rita”, I say. Her head lolls around on her shoulders and she continues to snore her brains away. “Rita! Wake up! STOP SNORING SO LOUD!”, I yell in her face. I yell so loud that I jerk myself awake.
Paul is lying with his head on my shoulder and he is snoring in such a way that I think he is going to break his nasal cavity. I gently nudge him and he keeps rip-roaring away. Eventually I had to get up and get into the shower and it wasn’t until then that he quieted down.
I wonder where the dream would have gone had Paul not started snoring directly into my ears.
So yeah, that’s that. Weird dream, cafeteria dinner, and severe diarrhea when I woke up this morning.
I told you that Paul and I had a great time last night.
