2001-02-09 - 5:39pm

Who's Who Cheat Sheet
Who I Read

On the internal soundtrack: "Saturday Night Fever", the Bee Gees!

TMI alert. No body functions discussed. Fellow TMI junkies and hairy-woman fans, read on.

Now, as many of you may know, if you want to wax your fuzz, you have to let it grow for approximately three weeks. It has to be a certain length (3/8" or something) in order for waxing to work. I've heard this is not the case with sugaring, which I am looking into, but I digress.

At any rate, since I'm hoping to wax or sugar before we go to Florida, I haven't shaved my legs or pits in nearly three weeks. I've got about the required length.

Last night after I got out of my shower, Poindexter walked in as I was putting deodorant on (or as he likes to call it, "pit juice"). He took one look at my hairy pits and snorted, then started to laugh. The amusement value never grows old, I guess.

I yelled "Hey!", put the deodorant down, and started chasing him around the bedroom with my arms in the air yelling "Hairy pits! Hairy pits! Touch them! Love them!" while Poindexter shrieked and cowered in fear.

As a woman in a male-dominated world, it was a powerful moment. See my hairy armpits, hear me roar.

Really, if enough women decided not to shave, men would have no choice but to like it. As long as men are heterosexual, women have all the power.

BTW, I take showers at night because they make me sleepy. How people use showers to "wake up" I'll never understand.

The weather here is gorgeous. Supposed to hit 70 today. Megan and I were supposed to go for a walk, but her husband thinks he can sneak out of work and wants to go somewhere to enjoy the day, so she'll probably cancel. I think I'm going to quit work early, maybe 3pm, and go home for a skate. I haven't gone on a skate since October, probably!

Figures that we'd get this weather right before we leave for Florida. I can hardly wait, though. My brother's excited too. It should be a lot of fun.

This weekend we're going to NJ to visit Pop-Pop, and I'm also going to see Amy, a friend of mine from high school. I haven't seen her since my wedding, I think. Too freakin' long. Her kid is three years old now.

Evelynne and Poindexter: A Love Story
Part II

So, if the first time we met was just before I was born, the second time was not until I was sixteen years old.

Up to this point I knew Renee existed, and I had met Kelly and Patrick at a few weddings, but somehow Renee's children were never mentioned, certainly not her younger son Poindexter.

In the summer of 1988, my family took a trip out to California which included a stay with Kelly and Patrick in Santa Barbara, during which Renee and her kids would visit. While the trip was being planned, I was surprised to find out that Renee had a son only two years older than me.

Renee and her husband arrived the day before Poindexter, who would be arriving the following day on "the dog" (Greyhound). Now I'll be honest. I was hoping he'd be cute. But at the time, I was into preppy guys (think Alex P. Keaton types) and his mother was describing him to me like he was God's gift to women. She was clearly his biggest fan. She had stuff like this to say:

"He has long hair, and he listens to heavy metal music, and he just graduated from high school, and he is wonderful, and he is so smart, and a guy on the plane told me that his tech company hires heavy metal music listeners because they are so smart..."

I'm thinking, "Long hair? Heavy metal?" I knew guys like that at school and they were all morons. I wasn't getting my hopes up.

I have a vague recollection of being introduced to him briefly, and then he disappeared to hang out with his uncle, who is only four years his senior.

Poindexter's first glimpse of me, as he recalls it, was of me diving into the pool. He says he was impressed with my butt at first sight. So far so good.

But it was later that evening that I must have actually started to talk to him and developed an attraction. I was an inquisitive kid (uh, not that that's changed or anything) and I tended to want to have conversations that went way beyond small talk. Poindexter was more than up for that, and we did a lot of talking during this visit. I wish I could remember it now. I'm sure we talked about being true to yourself. I do know I asked him a lot of questions about his hair and his taste in music and his beer drinking (being extremely naive about alcohol at the time) and his other uncle makes fun of me because I asked him at one point, "Are you a bad boy?"

Cringe.

I remember a few other things from that visit:

- Badgering him into riding in the back of his aunt's pickup truck with me on the way back from dinner one night

- Laying on the couch near him (he was sitting; it was a sectional with lots of room) with my arms wrapped around my head, while he played with my fingers. I was so shocked I had no idea what to do, so I didn't do anything. Years later he told me he was clearly making a move but figured I wasn't interested 'cause I didn't respond in any way.

- He was very protective of me in a way -- I don't think he had ever met such an innocent, being in California and all. We talked a lot about drinking and what it was like. One evening, he left a half-filled can of beer on the coffee table while he and his uncle went out for more beer. I put it in the fridge, got an empty unblemished can from the recycle bin, put that on the coffee table instead, and waited for them to get back. When they did, Poindexter picked up the empty can, started walking with it to the kitchen, and suddenly realized it was empty. He stopped short, looked at me in horror and said, "What did you DO?!" I started giggling (which helped the illusion, I'm sure), and said, "I decided to get drunk!" My charade didn't last long -- eventually I told him to look in the fridge. It was fun to freak him out like that, though.

- We later went up to northern California to visit Renee's house. Poindexter and his uncle went somewhere for the Monsters of Rock tour, much to my disappointment, and I got to sleep in his bed. For a sixteen-year-old, that was quite a big deal. Even though he wasn't in it.

After this visit, I went home and told all my girlfriends about it. I especially remember sitting on the sidewalk in front of a mall, waiting for a ride, and telling my best friend about it. Years later, when Poindexter and I became a couple, many of them actually remembered hearing about him. Pretty amazing.

Up next: Two years later, Evelynne tells Poindexter he's the kind of guy she'd like to marry.

I've had it. I'm going home for a skate. Have a good weekend, y'all.

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