Wednesday, August 24, 2011
WE ARE CREEPY.
M: Adrien. Look over there. OVER THERE. No, not at the DOG, dammit.
A: Huh? Where? Oh. OH. He is for ME. Even with those shoes.
M: I love that there is a gorgeous redheaded man IN REAL LIFE and you are like, yeah I guess that dog is okay, Marianne.
M: Wait, are you taking his picture? NOOOOOOO.
A: What? NO. I'm just pointing my camera over in that direction! WHAT. HE WILL NEVER NOTICE.
M: Yeah, that's DEFINITELY the face someone makes when they have NO IDEA what you are doing.
A: Hey, it's not my fault he's smoking hot. I mean, what was I supposed to do, just let him live his life in peace?
M: Knoxville is such a small town. I am going to start taking bets that he will end up being my new dentist or coworker or pool boy. Ooh, I like that last one. Step one: Get A Pool.
A: Step two: Hire the hot guy.
M: Can I skip straight to step two?
A: Oh, totally! Or, you know, pack him in a car and tell him the pool is in Virginia.
M: He can...polish the silver. Step one: Get Some Silver. Wait. Damn it.
A: Or, PACK HIM IN THE CAR AND TELL HIM THE SILVER IS IN VIRGINIA.
A: I'm looking forward to seeing which Knoxville blog reader tells him we've made him our errand boy.
M: Oh man. He totally works for the IRS and I am so getting audited.
A: But..we think he's hot. The creepy photo-stalking is a compliment! He is wearing the shit out of those Clubmasters.
M: NO, WE ARE CREEPY REMEMBER.
A: I KNOW BUT WE ARE GIRLS. That has to count for something, right?
M: I think all it really counts for is that we have the maturity of a pair of 11 year olds, and we are made for each other.
A: Aw, that is so sweet. I am going to wear this friendship bracelet UNTIL I DIE.