Monstre skills are only truly tested under pressure.
Finding out that today is Michel's birthday approximately fifteen minutes before the noon hour began it's incessent rumbling throughout the stomachs running rampant in the Gemplus building, was just enough pressure to send sparks flying but not actually set any of the carpeting on fire.
First, we stole all the leftover shaving cream from the showers.
Then we called my buddy Serge the headwaiter at that posh golf course restaurant there and demanded to reserve half his dining room for fifteen minutse from now.
Serge's reply "Ahhh, zee funny gurl wiss ze pretty h-air? Of course ve reserve for you!" (to which I muttered under my breath "Of course ve are french! Why do you sink ve have zese outRAGEOUS ACCENTS!")
While Michel and crew were on their way, slipping the key that we'd borrowed from his officemate into the keyhole, twisting it around surreptitiously, we proceeded to coat every conceivable surface in fluffy white icons of balloons, hearts, curls and ribbons and something very closely resembling letters of the english alphabet spelling out "happy bday mich" since we ran out of space.
Then we ate. Eating was lovely. Linguine with fresh basil pesto sauce and salmon.
Then we convinced two of the waiters to wrestle Michel to the ground so that we could pay his bill.
Of course, we could have just printed another copy, but this was SO much more entertaining amidst white linen tablecloths and crystal wine glasses.
Hehehehe.
I wasn't sure I was going to be able to stay awake last night long enough for David to call and announce that he was minutes from his place so that I could come over.
As I was parking my car he was pulling his bags out of the trunk of his, around the corner.
Head down, he barelled into my chest before he could smell my perfume.
Fifteen minutes later we were still kissing on the streetcorner, leaned up against the darkened window of a pharmacy.
Twenty minutes later I was remembering the sudden pangs of "what if something has changed between us over the past week" and how ridiculous they'd been.
Twenty five minutes later I was telling him about those pangs, and he was nodding along gurgling up the strangest things about how he was convinced that I wasn't going to come back to him, that I'd met some woman in Nawlin's...
Funny, that whole adage about Absence and the heart growing fonder. Maybe if the heart isn't first crushed by doubt, bored of waiting, or withered by the strange coldness of crawling into bed alone for the first aching time in a long time.
Since when are cliches so complicated?
Yesterday evening worked out so well in so many ways, aside from Midas refusing to fix my car because they were convinced that it was going to explode, and aside from the terribly noxious atmosphere of Yet Another Gallery Full Of Fake Bastard Artsy Bastard Asshole Bastards where Princess was demonstrating her soaring talent, dinner with Princess was divine, both of us sitting on the same side of a four-person table and conversing as though we were perched on a loveseat and there was no one in the room but us.
Letting her get away with paying for dinner, though, was a very unsettling experience. I mean, she's my princess... And I'm the one who gets paid more than I'm worth, anyway. ;)
The way the gargoyle that I'd bought in NOLA immediately took to Princess, and she to it was kinda nice too.
So was the sight of an almost clean kitchen with no one home and two hours to kill. Dishes, replacing the overflowing bathroom garbage, pledging to redo my bedroom shelves and floors and just about everything...
Telling David that princess wants me to chop my locks off, David arguing that he liked them long, princess' point that they're too feminine, David's point that the new tattoo on my shoulder makes me masculine enough to pull off any hair even if I was wearing it with a floral print dress and straw-spun sandals.
All that attention, it's nearly enough to make a monstre blush.
He's gone for the long weekend, I was going to go to Ottawa with him but I've got too much to take care of in town. A stag party tonight, Redemption tomorrow, laundry and haircuts and the rest of it.
I'm tired.
Someone described me to Tia's father as "Harmless and living in her own little world" which is entirely true and entirely intentional, so why is it bothering me?
I'd better get some work done before my brain conks out entirely.
It's pouring outside.
~