In case you just got here and you're looking around and thinking, "This is how she keeps her place?" Yes. Yes it is, and also if you just got here you may want to know who in the Sam Hill Hulk is, since I mention him 95 times a week.
I met Hulk in high school, where he was the editor of sports for our hard-hitting, award-winning, extremely famous high school newspaper and I was the features editor. If you remotely know Hulk and me you know that is perfect. All Hulk cares about are sports and all I care about is fluff.
I had a regular column in said famous, extremely professional newspaper–and I ought to stop making fun of it because sometimes our journalism teacher, Ms. C., actually reads this blog and I mean no disrespect to you, Ms. C., seeing as you were then and currently continue to be da bomb.
Can I digress? I know that's unusual as I am usually logical and linear and succinct.
Our high school was a really pretty old building built in probably the '30s, which I never once appreciated till my friend David and I walked right in there like we owned the place late one night when we were home for our 20th class reunion. The janitor had the back door open. He saw us, and we were all, We are so busted, but he nodded like we were someone. Suddenly we realized that just because we'd walked into high school, we weren't suddenly 15, and what that janitor saw were two relatively respectable middle-aged people who he probably thought were teachers.
That was jarring.
My point is, we wandered around and admired the windows and tile work and wood details, and I said, "We were here every day for three years. We were both heavily involved in extracurricular activity, too. We were here all the time. What else were we thinking that we couldn't take one second to appreciate the beauty of this place?"
"I was thinking about making out with John Munson," said David, who is as gay as a goose. A thing I never figured out in high school even though he was in swing choir.
How did I get off on this tangent? Oh! That our journalism room faced the front of the building, and a giant swatch of grass, and once Ms. C. said, "Look how fast that guy is mowing the lawn!"
The guy was right in front of the window. But he was standing on some mowing machine. Ms. C. couldn't see the machine and just assumed the guy was moving like the wind.
Thank heavens I took 89 paragraphs to tell that stupid story.
So HULK and I–geez–met in high school and lost touch after, except for one tragic night in 1988, which I would tell about but now I took 60 years to even get back to Hulk. Through the magic of Facebook, which if you ask me really is magic and WHO JUST UNFRIENDED ME? I just got unfriended AGAIN and I didn't even do anything wrong this time. Makes me so mad. Through the magic of Facebook Hulk and I reconnected and he jumped right on this blog and it's all beautiful.
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! IN EVERY SINGLE WAY! WORDS.CAN'T.BRING.YOU.DOWN! (being unfriended on Facebook can, though)
I haven't even had coffee yet.
In the few years Hulk has been a faithful reader, we have giggled and cavorted and attended Indian weddings together and fought about politics because he's wrong about everything, and just generally been excellent friends.
So yesterday in the comments, Hulk mentioned he got a raise. Naturally I stampeded to email to discuss.
June: How big of a raise?
Hulk: (telling me how big but I will preserve this one shred of his privacy. I know. Did I mention I haven't had coffee?)
Gold-digger June: You are looking better and better to me. You know, I am liberal and you are not. I love cats and you do not. You love sports and…I still say we'd make a stunning couple.
(Hulk and I would kill each other with pickle forks in under an hour if we were ever a couple.)
Hulk: Why do I have a picture of that Lost in Space robot in my head about now…WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! I think we would make a good couple. …you could do all the talking to people at gatherings and such. Be in charge of buying the presents and cards. I could be the provider and have all the sex…
June: That is all I ask. Providing and sex. (Hi, mom. Hi, feminist mom.) As long as you ignore the 14 cats and we never ever discuss politics, we are all set.
Hulk: I promise to never discuss politics. I can tolerate cats as long as I don't have to clean up after them and they don't wake me up. And don't bitch at me when I hang out the boys after softball. And want sex when I get home…
June: Cool. I will be naked, then, when you get back.
Hulk: We may have an agreement in principle…
June: It's so romantic. Wait. If we got involved and you didn't email me enough, can I text you to talk about how the boy I like doesn't email enough?
(You guys have no idea how many MILLIONS of times I have bugged Hulk this year about the mysteries of boys. AND HE ALWAYS TAKES THE BOY'S SIDE. Always.)
Hulk: Now that made me giggle…
So there you have it. I think Hulk and I are betrothed. Does this mean I have to move back to Saginaw? Maybe I could get a job cutting the lawn at my old high school…