Talking with Hamster Hater this morning, I realized that my movie collection is heavy on Bill Murray pictures. I blame a certain group of very good directors and writers who recognize the genius that is Billy Murray. We were talking about movies that would be appropriate for his children to watch (girl: 15, boy: 11). He introduced his daughter to Sixteen Candles and she loved it. That bodes well for her. I gave him my list of most-see Bill Murray movies from the past decade, and then realized I owned all of them. Ha.
He gave me this awesome laminate fold-out of the trees of central Texas. I don't think he gave it to me for keepsies, but I plan on photo-copying it on the fancy color Xerox. Stealing from work on Friday, how dangerous of me.
This morning I was once again thinking of C in the shower. Well, more like I was thinking of something she said at dinner last night and how her brother is finishing up his PhD on fruit flies. Yet again, I don't know why my brain decided to pick up on this in the shower this morning, but I was just thinking about fruit flies, and what crazy thing has he discovered about fruit flies? Then I started thinking what would blow the minds of the scientific fruit-fly community? That the third segment of the fruit fly's back left leg actually determined if it liked bananas or cat poo more. Then, oh my god, some bitch from Texas who knows nothing about fruit flies and was just making a joke on her blog, totally turned out to be right. Scientist bicker in jealous resentment, call her a bitch and get on with their lives using this fantastic new information to map if there are more banana-loving fruit flies over the cat-poo-loving ones.
If I have not admitted this before, I am not very good at sharing. I hate it. Stuff is mine, whether that be food, money, the super-soft blankey on the couch. I'm the oldest child, can you tell? The Boy and I had a little spat when I went home for a brief lunch between mentoring and work. He kept stealing my macaroni and cheese. It was one serving, and each time I was in position to put the fork in my mouth, his arm blocked me to steal some more pasta. So not only was he taking bits of my one-portion meal, he was keeping me from freely eating it at my own pass. I finally got fed up with this and snapped at him by ripping his tongue out and eating it mixed in with my mac-and-cheese. He always shares his food--he's really good like that. He also always offers to make me food when he goes in to make himself food. But let's be clear about today, he was home, had been home, and at any time could have gotten up and ate the mac-and-cheese himself. I had 20 minutes to spare, and was eating my serving of food and he was stealing it. Then when I offered to make him some food, he refused, on the basis that he felt I didn't really want to. Which was not true. I totally wanted to because a) he was right in that I didn't offer when he always does, and b) he sounds so pathetic without a tongue, that I wanted him to shut up already.
Obviously, I should only eat meat when I am at home to avoid this kind of thing.
Last night I neglected to remove my mascara before going to bed. I really try to avoid this because I may have long eyelashes, but they aren't particularly thick, and sleeping with mascara on his like having dried paint on bristles. This morning, before I took my shower (and thought all about C, her brother, and fruit flies), I took a look at myself and saw that I had no mascara on my left eye, but my right eye looked as good as it did yesterday (if not better since there was some slight smudging going on under my lower lashes). I have always felt that my right eyelashes are way better looking then my left. I had an epiphany, standing there naked in the hot steam of the bathroom: I sleep on my left side! I wake up with no mascara on that side of my face, because I have spent the whole night rubbing it off on my pillow in my thrashing about (hot flashes!). Even when I'm not wearing mascara, I'm still brutally destroying the eyelashes on my left. Honestly, I'm almost 35 and this just now occurs to me. That and how the fruit flies' back left leg absolutely determines if they like fruit or dung better.
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