Wow. SHE forgives ME. I'm humbled (sheds a tear). But I do have to ask: How can you mean "no offense" when YOU'RE STEALING!?!? Is stealing NOT offensive in Brazil? Cripe.
Oh, whatEVER.

What I actually said was something akin to this:
I really dig the "Expensive Whore" tranlsation, though. Wish I'd have thought of that.
Oh, whatEVER.

If I had to guess why, I'd say that it was because of an e-mail exchange Friday in which he was letting me know he was thinking of me (in his way), but I kinda kicked him in the nuts for the effort. See, he might argue that when all's said and done, I get the "best" of him, which is to say I get the real him without the bullshit pretenses, and he's right, and it's probably the biggest reason why I love him. But sometimes it's really, really hard to accept the best from someone when you want the rest of them, too. Yes, just like O-Town, except without the "Nothing at All" part. Honestly, though, I don't know that that's what it is. All I do know is that he's not talking, and that bothers me, because on one hand, I want to hunt him down and force an answer, and I know that the only thing I can do is let him tell me when, or even if, he's ready. And in the meantime, I can't sleep.
Oh, whatEVER.

I was 13 and going into eighth grade when I got my first "big girl" bathing suit. It was a white OP one piece that, for its time, was quite racy, with its criss-cross back and substantial v-neck halter, its blue-outlined-with-green chevrons pointing downward. I thought I was quite the little number. My best friend Alice and I hung out at Wicker Park Pool just about every day that summer, and as wily girls at the start of adolescence, we naturally crushed on several of the lifeguards. Mine was this Emilio Estevez lookalike while hers was ... well, I can't remember who hers was because it's not important to my story.

Anyway, it was also the summer that I'd finally grown some balls and jumped off the high-dive, which was a big deal for me because not only am I not a fan of moving heights, but I'm not a particularly good swimmer, either. But, you know, I didn't want to look like a puss, so I did it. Well, this one jump, I went down bent forward at the waist, which meant I basically belly flopped. And as I got out to talk to Al and my lover lifeguard, no one bothered to tell me that the impact of my jump had moved my big-girl halter over to the right enough that my nipple was there for all to see. It took a good 15 minutes or so for me to figure it out myself; in fact, when I looked down at said nipple? I wasn't even sure that that's what I was seeing. What I thought it was, I couldn't tell you, but it took me a minute to realize that, "Wait a minute -- that's my nipple! Holy shit!" And I promptly tucked it back in. I'm not even sure I asked Al if she saw it. I might have been too freaked out. Imagine that.

But how does this tie in with Genesis, you ask? About two years prior, Duke was released, and the song "Misunderstanding" was big in rotation. When I hear it, it reminds me of the one lifeguard I was fascinated with when it came out (not Emilio Estevez, but this Greek dude with a Mario Lopez mullet and these big, brown Greek eyes. He was a guard with Emilio, but he was there before him, too.) It's a whole free-association thing, I guess.
Oh, whatEVER.

Take the What High School Stereotype Are You? quiz.

[Horked from ... I forget.]
Oh, whatEVER.