Transplanted Life
Friday, April 15, 2005
Procrastinating is bad
Man, I should have known I was supposed to keep track of my tips. I only spent a couple months waitressing last year, but.... Ugh. I am going to get audited because the only tips that appeared on my W-2 form were the ones from when someone paid with a credit card and wrote the amount in. I don't see why tips should be taxed anyway; does the government really feel the need to skim off every financial transaction? I swear, ten years from now there will be a tax form to fill out if you let someone borrow twenty bucks for a week.

In other news, Chet and I are going on a double-date with Kate and Carter tonight. Actually, Kate and I wanted to see the silent-movie-with-accompaniment at the Museum of Fine Arts, but what with it being on a Friday evening, we figured we'd get them to pay and buy us dinner and be happy about it because we'd be wearing something that makes us look good. Then maybe some dancing, and then who knows?

Well, I've got some idea, because Kate has been sending me instant messages all day asking about what Carter's turn-ons are. Both in terms of "what did Carter like when you were dating him?" and "what did you like when you were in that body?", of course. She says this will be a valuable scientific experiment, but I think it's just been nearly as long for her as it has been for me.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Delayed (re) actions
So, had to work during the Sox home opener and the ring cerenmony and everything yesterday. Fortunately, technology was my friend as the Replay caught all of it for later. Telly was in the same boat, so he came over to my place after work.

There was, I admit, a little crying. Telly doesn't get it, since he was only a toddler in 1986 and thinks I was an eight-year-old girl with no interest in sports back then, but I remember being twelve years old and really captivated by the game for the first time. Martin-me had played Little League, of course, but that was the year where I first recall thinking of the game as an evolving narrative, with the season a great story in and of itself and also a chapter in a larger story - in the case of the Red Sox, a story too large for anyone to actually participate in the whole thing. And, of course, it's when thousands of kids my age in New England learned that great stories don't always have happy endings.

I think it really shook Telly to see me like this. Michelle, from what I can tell, wasn't much of a baseball fan - all the Sox T-shirts and caps and stuff in my closet has been bought in the last two years. He came over, thinking that the fandom thing is just something his sister has picked up to try and build a new life for herself, only to see her acting like this has been a life-long obsession. I don't think it's making him actually believe me, though - he looked more concerned that his big sister was mentally ill. Which I suppose is one interpretation for my condition.

We spent time talking about the folks we're seeing. I laughed when he used the term "imaginary boyfriend" to describe Chet. Apparently it's a term Michelle and Telly used all the time to indicate someone the other (or their mom) had gone out without the other meeting them. I guess he's got an imaginary girlfriend now, too, which Maureen, at least, is grateful to hear.

I'm not sure how to categorize his reaction to my saying that I haven't slept with Chet yet. Is it really a big deal that I haven't gotten laid within a month of meeting a nice guy? Telly hasn't actually come out and said that Michelle was easy or anything, and he seems to be willing to not tell his big sister how to live her life.

I suppose he's wondering if I've been holding out just to show I can. I'd say that maybe there's something to it, but in point of fact, Chet's been a complete gentleman. Clearly, it's going to be on me to make the first move.

Which should be fun.


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