As of late my basement has come under attack of a new pest. Every night for the past two weeks probably, I have had to eliminate at least a dozen millipedes that for some reason keep crawling into my basement. Tragically I can empathize with their cause, because the basement is indeed a great breeding ground for vermin; probably the reason my dad wanted his daughter and grandaughter to live here. Chuck McMillipedionaire. Great minds. Anyhow as serious a problem as this millipede invasion has been, the basement has been invaded by a different pest this past night. The end of June is here and apparently it's that time of year when The Man's Charm shines it's brightest, or so I've come to experience.
Jumping back to last evening I had just awoken from an afternoon-turned-evening nap. I had been out in the sun earlier relaxing on my beach chair earlier in the afternoon after I finished my workout, so when I noticed it was darker outside I immediately went up to move my chair out of the driveway where I left it, because my dad would - and has - run it over. As I walked outside my dad was moving something in and out of someones car - the details of which I couldnt care less, and he informed me that someone was nice enough to move my chair or he'd have ran it over. My sister, her apparent boyfriend and "bff" Whitney were sitting on the steps, smoking cigarettes. "Well... Thanks someone." I replied and went to pick up my chair and go back inside. As I picked up my chair and wrapped the towel around it so that I was able to carry both more manageably with one arm I received an unprovoked but coy "hey, Chase," from my sisters friend Whitney who shot me a look. Looking back on the incident now I fear I may have inadvertantly given her The Man's Look here, the truth of this incident will probably never be known. So I did the only thing to do in such a situation and replied back with a "hey," of my own. Slick. "It's been a while since I've seen you," she said. I then walked back past all of them, back into the house and back down the basement. My libido having had successfully filled its quota of sexual tension for the night, I proceeded to take a GB and play some video games for the next 2 hours or so until I fell asleep once again on my couch.
It's 1:24 am when I wake back up. I was starving so I made myself a "Total Sickness" shake and browsed Anarchy Online forums while casually walking back and forth between my bathroom preparing my next GB. No sooner did I finish my shake than was I startled by some rustling and slight tapping on my basement back door. Yago and I both look at one another as another knocking comes, this time slightly heavier. He barks and I go to answer the door. I open it and it's Whitney. We exchange heated "heys" once again as Yago barks at her like he is going to kill her. I calm him down and ask her whats up. "You locked me out!" She exclaimed. "I just woke up. What are you talking about?" I reply. "Oh. The upstairs door, you locked it,' she said. Which I had for some odd reason earlier. Normally the door itself isnt even totally shut, by slightly ajar so the dogs can roam the entire house. "Well are you going to come in?" I ask, "I can't stand keeping this door open." Just as she starts to come in I notice my sister coming in right behind her. Luckily, once they both came inside she (my sister) proceeded to walk straight past us and went back upstairs. How unfortunate. "So what's up?" I ask. "Well how are you I haven't seen you in forever," she says. She then proceeded to hug me and then subsequently criticize my hugging method, or lackthereof - like ALL girls do. I explained to her that I had been out in the sun earlier and I was probably dirty. "So what? Everyones dirty. I'm dirty," she says. "Interesting," I replied, as I shot her a look. We proceeded to talk for a little while about nothing in particular. She asked me what I had been up to and I explained to her the various subtleties of my daily existance. One of the details we discussed of course was my GB and proper it's usage; something I proceeded to demonstrate. After we sat on the couch and she giggled for a little while I decided maybe I should take some conversational initiative. So I asked her what she had been up to? "Nothing," she replied. The perfect reply. The very thing I say to everyone else to instantly dismiss any encouragement of a conversation I feel is going in that 'usual' or 'typical' direction I'd like to avoid. "Really?!" I reply. "So really nothing like me then?" She shook her head. "Haha. Awesome," I said as I was truly appreciating this situational irony in its moment. Then she asked me what the story was with my drinking situation or lackthereof. Filling me in on the details she had received from my sister; all of which were incorrect. When I inform her of my pancreatitis she asked me several questions regarding it and then suggested I get a second or third opinion before I decide to doom myself with this diagnosis indefinately. She said as a nurse, which I just discovered she was, you really couldn't trust most doctors. I told her I was pretty certain to her dismay while she continued to try and convince me otherwise. For some reason or another the conversation then shifted to me feeling I'm always the exception to the rule. To plead my case I explained to her a quick breakdown of my eating habits and lack of family or really any social structure. Then the conversation takes an unexpected turn.
"So, where should we go out on a date?" she asks me, smiling. I sort of freeze and smile uncomfortably. "What?" "Yeah, where are you going to take me?" She asked. "Uh.. I don't even know where I would go that I could actually eat anything around here," I replied, honestly. Her eyes get sort of wide for a second. "No, I meant that literally. I really don't even know anywhere around here that I would be able to go and eat food I like... unless you like pizza?" "I don't like pizza," she quickly replied - of course. "It's the sauce." "Oh you don't like tomato sauce?" I ask. "Not unless it's the really meaty kind," she says - to which I start to laugh while she looks puzzled til I inform her that's the exact type I dislike.
A little more time passes by and just as the conversation is beginning to completely fade my sister comes back down, nodoubt curious of her friend's whereabouts and if she is ready to start watching some movie. She starts talking about her kid and how impressionable it is and we begin to talk about memory and I mention that children really won't remember anything before the age of 3 anyhow. She disagrees of course and we begin to talk about genetics. Of course the conversation thereafter mostly entailed me telling her she had no idea about genes, and then asking her if she knew what DNA stood for. Neither she nor Whitney did of course and when I told them it was acid they both agreed I was talking about something different, although neither wanted to consult Wikipedia. I then made a snyde comment directed at my sister about gene expression to which she said she was glad she didn't have my genes because Im not social enough. I replied that people are stupid and I was comfortable with my level of sociability. Just then Whitney asks if I thought my sister was stupid. I immediately replied "yes," much to her dismay and then my sister proceeded to say she didn't care. Then Whitney insisted upon me giving them both grounds for my claim. "Are you serious?" I replied. "She didn't even graduate from highschool." "Yes, I did," my sister informs me. "That doesn't count." The that I'm referring to in this case was her 'special' highschool where people who drop out of real high school go to make up time at their own pace. "What do you mean that doesn't count?" Whitney exclaimed. "I mean it's not even real high school," I said. "I graduated from that school too," she informed me. This was something I had not anticipated. "So are you calling me stupid too?" "Hey I didn't call anyone anything." I said. "You kind of threw yourself under the bus on this one." Having clearly had enough of this discussion, my sister got up and walked back upstairs, leaving both of us alone once again, lying on my couch.
Somehow the tension of the previous moment had evaporated. Part of this was no doubt due to the fact that I took another GB break at this point. So I continue to play music while she shoots down most of my song selection. At this point I was getting bored and I no longer felt like putting forth any effort whatsoever into entertaining someone. "Well, what do you want to do?" I ask her. When she says she doesn't care I suggest we watch a DVD and ask her if she likes "Sunny" to which she replies that it was "gay." Provoking a brief subsquent discussion of the usage of the word "gay" as a general pejorative. As one would probably guess the conversation did not involve the actual use of the word pejorative. It was at this point I got up the courage to just blatantly suggest we should just make out instead. A suggestion which unfortunately never came into fruition as she laughed and never replied. Slightly tired, annoyed and no longer willing to attempt to make any further conversation I slowly start to overtake the portion of the couch we're sharing in an attempt to encourage her to leave. In a minute or so she relocated to my computer chair, subsquently telling me it was uncomfortable as she tried to lie down in it akwardly. She then informed me that she was going across the room to my leather couch, where she fell asleep almost immediately and remains now. Once again I remain both the victim and author of... yet another,
Reality Check.
