"I think I found the perfect woman for you," she said looking as seriously as she could, and then away to begin the end of her sentence.
But the first part sent my mind down a path. It started with the speaker, Amidala. She can't or won't have me so the idea that a hand picked young lady was waiting to meet me, not that I could do anything about it, I'm taken by my moratorium but still everyone wants to feel sexy, to feel wanted and you know, maybe I should go on a date, what could it-----------AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Then I vocalized it.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I saw who she was speaking of before she could finish her joke, before she could even point. I just knew and it was awful.
No, she wasn't necessarily a dog. She wasn't abnormal in any seriously freakish way. Well, unless you think that enormous giantic huge boobs are freakish. And I think I do.
These biggens were framed by a low cut top that showed about twelve inches of cleveage when they caught my eye. This was my perfect woman. Damn you, Amidala. Damn. Damn. Damn.
Obviously, the message is clear. If she can't have me, she'll keep me from wanting anyone else. Good work. From that split second when I was reconsidering a little dating to the split second when I saw this lady who was supposed to help me rejoin the twenty-somethings dating scene, my mindset was reaffirmed. No dating.
And since I didn't mention this in my last journal entry, she chastised me. Happy now?
The other thing I didn't mention is how we slept spooned all night taking turns on different sides whispering pillow talk into each others ears until we fell blissfully into the heat of the moment and promptly went to sleep. She was mad I didn't share that with anyone.
Still, she came back to Macon for some more loving. Her ruse was that Tacala and I begged her to show up and offered her room in the inn.
Tacala picked her up and took her down to the only bar in town. I met them down there after acquiring whiskey and Budweiser. The same stuff that prompted their ire despite the fact I specifically asked them what they wanted and got nothing back in the way of response.
The patrons, myself, Amidala and Tacala = malaise. Something wrong with the moon or the way the wind was blowing but everyone was lame. And no amount of alcohol was changing that.
We tried to change it by going outside. By going upstairs. By going outside upstairs on the fire escape. By sitting passively watching a metal band wail on stage in the staggering attic heat. By going for a walk. So we decided to pack it up, pack it in. Head on over to my place.
The plan was watching Pete and Pete, but the VCR didn't work so we watched CQ even though Tacala and I watched it the night before. What a great movie though. Ask me, I'll tell you.
Then Ghostbusters II. This is the part where I was able to feel old again. Amidala loved the second one, developed a crush on Bill Murray as a child. Forgives the Ghostbusters for fighting a painting. Well, I loved the first, developed a crush on Bill Murray and was estatic the Ghostbusters fought a giant marshmallow man. We were the same ages when we fell in love with the Ghostbusters francise but five years apart. It made me sad and happy.
That night, I also discovered that at age 12, Tacala was at my high school graduation because her sister and I were in the same class. Go figure.
Our only constant was Beecharmer who's preparing to depart for Athens again. She distracted Tacala with her wicked ways and entertained us with her womanly ways. Bah. I'm tired. I'm going to rewrite this later because my memories are all out of whack. Love, Chris.
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