2004-06-25 - 10:09 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Sing", The Carpenters

WELL.

It's been a rough week and a half, work-wise, since I got back from Montana, to the point that I had to postpone our Father's Day celebration to this weekend. I am on the train back from the meeting, have finished detailing everything I need to do next week, and now I'm going to treat myself by writing about whatever I feel like writing about for the next hour. It's either that or pass out and miss my stop.

The woman behind me is singing occasionally, very quietly. I'm only catching little bits but it sounds like a pretty voice, too. I like it when people just sing. A friend of mine said once that people generally don't sing unless they're in a good mood, so it boosts my own mood to hear it.

I like that Carpenters song "Sing", too, especially for the sentiments. "Don't worry that it's not good enough/for anyone else to hear/just sing/sing a song."

I've complained in the past, and expect I will continue to do so, that Poindexter is not picky enough about women to have crushes. "They're all good" seems to be his general attitude, and it's a lovely one, but the lack of fixating makes me feel guilty about my own crushes. Fortunately all my crushes are movie stars at the moment so I don't feel too guilty.

So last night, during part of a lot of random jumping-around of thoughts, I was wondering aloud about people in interracial relationships. I generally tend to assume that they are two individuals who just like each other, but I'm aware that there are some people who fixate on a particular race. Sometimes it's just because they're drawn to features that occur more often in a particular race or ethnicity (I like dark loose curls -- think Orlando Bloom -- so I tend to notice Mediterranean men a lot). Some people though, specifically will date people because they are of a certain race. So I wondered aloud if I do this at all:

Evelynne: I've been attracted to guys of all races, but mainly whites. Why is that? Well, I like skinny guys with floppy hair, so I like white guys and Asian guys, but it's hard for black guys to have floppy hair ... no, wait, I like it when they have floppy braided hair like the guy at--
Poindexter: I DON'T NEED TO HEAR ABOUT WHAT GUYS YOU LIKE!!!
Evelynne: What!? I'm not talking about anybody specific, and besides, they all look like you, so what's your problem?! And anyway, you're a big pain because you just like ALL girls instead of picking a few when I ask.

Poindexter's reply is more for me to remember than anything else, because it was all in the delivery. He began speaking as though he were merely continuing the conversation:

Poindexter: A papa bull and his baby bull are standing on a hill. A baby boy bull.
Evelynne: [laughing] Two bulls. OK.
Poindexter: And they're looking at the field below them filled with the herd. And the baby bull says [high pitched excited voice] "Hey, dad! Let's run down there and find a cow and fuck her!"
Evelynne: [giggles]
Poindexter: And the papa bull says [deep, slow, deliberate, cool drawl], "No, son. [pause] Let's walk down there ... and fuck 'em all."

Like I said, it was all in the delivery. I laughed and laughed and laughed, and finally stopped only to erupt into giggles again everytime I remembered the sound of his voice when he did the papa bull's line.

I was talking to a friend recently about bridges. She says she doesn't like them, that she's nervous being on them. I (of course) asked her why. She said, "Because I feel like I'm going to jump off them, or drive my car off them."

"You're overwhelmed with your free will, huh?" I said.

This happens to me every now and then. I'll be standing on the edge of a cliff and will be overwhelmed with the realization that I could jump off. Or yesterday, I was standing in line at the grocery store and the cash drawer opened, but the cashier had his back to me and no one was in line behind me. Standing there, I thought, I could have reached in and grabbed a few bills. (I wasn't thinking about security cameras at the time, so apparently I'd make a really bad criminal.)

And then when Poindexter's mother was visiting, she was outside smoking and we were cuddling on the couch watching hockey, and I said (warning: very black "humor" ahead):

Evelynne: Y'knowwww...

(Whenever we've been pondering something -- more often something ridiculous, like what follows, but also for more serious or sensible topics -- and then decide to bring it up, that's how we start.)

Evelynne: ... I could run upstairs to the kitchen and grab a butcher knife and come back down here and start hacking you to bits.
Poindexter: [completely unperturbed; not taking eyes off television] No, you couldn't get more than a couple stabs in before I'd wrestle it away from you.
Evelynne: Well, maybe if I got a couple really good stabs in key places.
Poindexter: They'd have to be pretty good stabs. Besides, I'd see you coming.
Evelynne: No, I could hide it behind my back, and you'd think I was just being cute, and you'd say "What are you hiding?" and I'd whip it out and start stabbing.
Poindexter: Hmph.
Evelynne: But the really freaky thing is, I could go upstairs and grab a firearm and come down here and just shoot you. That's what the antigun people think I'm going to do.
Poindexter: You could.
Evelynne: I don't want to though. [pause] That'd make a big mess, and it would piss your mother off, and I'd have to shoot her too.

I suppose some of you are probably sitting thinking "Oh my god, how can she TALK about these things." To be honest, I'm a little squicked by the conversation myself. But I know my husband's sense of humor (this is the man who listens to songs like "Good Morning, Black Friday" and he loved the wood chipper scene in "Fargo", if that tells you anything -- LOVED. IT.), and figured he'd be entertained by it. And so he was.

It's also interesting to me that some people are genuinely afraid that I might use my gun on someone in a fit of anger. This is so far out of the realm of possibility for me that it's laughable. That's just not what it's for. At all.

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