When I got on to post today, I saw that Marvin had left this photo of himself on my desktop:
He can't possibly think he could leave this photo there and that I would not put it up for all of you to look at. See the tidiness of his room? That's pretty much how our whole house would look now if I didn't scurry behind him 700 times a day, cleaning up.
Marvin just came in and caught me putting this up, because never once in the history of time have I ever been able to be on the computer without him hovering, thereby ruining any chance I may have of meeting a man on eHarmony and having an online affair. Anyway, he wants to know if anyone can name what kind of guitar that is.
I can. It's a brown kind.
This is basically what Marvin looked like when I met him. Oh! I was smitten with the Marvin, from the first instant I saw him. He was not so smitten with me. Which just made me like him more. Nothing is more an enticing than an indifferent boy, if you ask me. Because I'm healthy, is what I am. I followed him around for a whole school year. Once Dottie and I were at a party– Remember Dottie? Who I just spent a romantic weekend with?
Here's Dot horning in on my wedding weekend, just last week.
Well, Dot was one of my good friends in college.
Here we are pretending to care about what's happening in a game of pool. I look drunk as a skunk.
Anyway, some other night when Dot and I were in college, similarly drunk as skunks, we were at some party at some house, and I remember I had on my sparkly shoes. Oh, how I wish I had a photo of the shoes. I bought them at this vintage store at Michigan State that I was obsessed with, and I know that was a terrible sentence. The store was called Somebody Else's Closet, but they just should have called it June's Tuition. Once I dropped a class to buy a pair of earrings there. I am not kidding.
The sparkly shoes were from the '40s, and they were silver slingbacks, and they literally had sparkles all over them. They also had really pointy toes. I wore them everywhere. With jeans, dresses, velvet petal pushers. Oh, I loved those ding-dang shoes. I do not remember the rest of my outfit that night, but I know I had the shoes on, because Dot said, "Do you know we're right by Marvin Gardens' house right now?" "No!" I shrieked, in that loud way one shrieks when one has had 47 drinks. "Let's go over there!" I said, in a voice that would have been appropriate had a locomotive been speeding by carrying 87 screeching Rhesus monkeys, each holding fully powered chainsaws.
"Okay!" bellowed Dottie, who was always up for anything.
It was important to both Dot and me that we refill our plastic cups at the keg before we set out on this journey. I remember tripping along the sidewalk in my sparkly pumps, balancing my red plastic cup of beer and trying to whisper once we got to Marvin's house. Because we weren't going to go in and say hi. Oh, no. We were going to sneak up and peek in his window. Because what better way to get someone to like you than to get caught creepy crawling his house?
Marvin lived in what was technically the sunroom of this house, which I'm sure was warm during Michigan winters, and also quite legal. Dot and I made our steady, sober way across his lawn and into his bushes, and just as we had pulled ourselves up to his window, she whispered, "Dang, I hope he isn't in there wanging his wafer or anything."
Beer came out my nose, then beer came out her nose, all our sneakiness and anonymity was lost and we had to go shrieking down the street before we got caught, so hilariously funny did we find that particular line. And of course Marvin hadn't even been home.
Years later, Marvin and I went back to his old college house and we took a picture of him holding a box of those wafer cookies in front of that window, and sent the picture to Dottie. Because we're funny that way.