Laughing All The Way

Monday, April 09, 2007

You Want What I Got

Bruce has his funny looks. Like the look he gave me when we were eating sushi and I said, “yeah, like the time that girl kissed me.” Apparently I had not told him that story. Oddly, that funny look was similar to the look he gave me on Friday when I told him that I cut my own hair. I always cut my own bangs to minimize the number of times I pay someone to cut off .25 an inch of hair. He said he was just surprised because it looked good, and also, “I’ve only ever cut my hair accidentally.” Which leads me to ask, how does one accidentally cut ones own hair?

Bruce has his moments. He can be exceedingly funny. But usually in the privacy of the car. I get on him for being selectively funny. My family and friends would stop being befuddled by our relationship if he were as funny with them as he is with me. Bruce maintains that he’s just a little shy and doesn’t like the big groups. I maintain that he’s just trying to torture me and make me look insane. Of course, the insane part, that’s probably all my own doing. But I blame him for that as a matter of course.

Bruce has his charm and good looks. I say this so that people will think I think nice things about Bruce, because often I tell you all about the other stuff. Also, Bruce will then feel like a sexy beast. You know, I don’t know why people complain about having to edit what they write on their blogs because of who reads. I never experience that. Like just the other day, when Bruce was doing his pilates and I was laughing at him. I know, you thought there was going to be more, but no, that’s it. He was doing pilates and I was laughing. But charm and good looks!

Bruce has his happy place. I don’t know if you’ve picked this up yet, but I’m not necessarily an easy person with whom to live. Seriously, I am kind of demanding and shit. Also, some might call me a bitch. I don’t know who exactly, but some. When I start picking on things that are driving me nuts, Bruce drops out of the conversation. He adds a well placed, “uh huh” and “mmmmm” but really I could be plotting out a plan to rob Fort Knox and he would be all uh huh’ing me to death. I think that it’s good for him to act like he’s acknowledging my crazy plan or the jihad of the moment but he never really engages it. When my mom asked how he puts up with me, Bruce replied, “Oh, I just go to my happy place.” I imagine there are lots of video games and shiny things in Bruce’s happy place.

Bruce has his stuff. No really, not possessions (he has those too) but STUFF. I know that on paper I would come off as the materialistic whore that I am, but when you start piling shit up, Bruce has hella crazy mountains of stuff. Just yesterday he was wearing pants that totally didn’t fit. And by didn’t fit, I mean they hurt his midriff being way too tight. Bruce has a closet full of clothes. But he only wears about a third of the pants and half the shirts. The man is a pack rat. Me, I am a totally unsentimental bitch that throws away pretty much everything. The last 28 years of keepsakes fit into two storage containers that combine to about a foot cubed.

Bruce has his teddy bear. To be fair it’s the one I sent to him with a bunch of balloons via FTD. The bear was just holding the balloons together. The bear made the arduous journey from the office to the apartment and now is part of the family. The bear has been named Mediator and is called up to do a variety of things. For example, we’ve asked Mediator to switch the laundry to the drier, taste some food, go to the market, get a job, make some calls and vacuum. Mediator has pretty much refused to do all of it. Bruce doesn’t care that Mediator is one lazy ass bear, he hangs out with Mediator and plays games with him. I tend to hide Mediator in odd places and mock Bruce when he can’t find him. I’ve stopped doing that since the time where I forgot that I put Mediator in the dish washer and left him there for a very long time. Thankfully no teddy bears were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Bruce has his faith. He’s a believer in things that people sometimes don’t. I think it’s good that one of us believes in God considering that I might need it one day. No really, I hear God does good things. There are miracles and the such. We have some pretty good conversation because I know things and he believes things. I never try to talk him out of his faith, as I am sure my family will try one day. I never question his faith. I never mock his faith. Faith is some pretty strong shit and I know not to mess with that mojo.