35 is the new 24 years, 5 months and 12 days.

we were over in the elk last winter getting pizza and drunk when i refused to allow my eldest coworker (we'll call her "carrie") to pay for her share of the pizza. her boyfriend was out of town, and my younger coworker (we'll call him "jj") and i decided we needed to make sure she wasn't lonely. by this, jj and i hoped to mean "make sure carrie's totally shitty by nine o'clock". by the time jj and i had reached the elk, she was already at least a sheet and a half in, with a fresh martini in her hand. when i said, "no, you may not pay for the pizza," she said "cash, i'm not sleeping with you." hm. this was new for me, cos while i assert that language is interpretive, i usually make the assumption that when one offers a kindness, he or she is generally rewarded with a "thank you" or is refused on the kindness alone. in scanning my statement, which i think actually took the form of a negative grunt, i found no expressed or intrinsic sexual type advances. or even moderate first-base type advances. in fact, grunting is usually accepted as a sure way to show neutrality or disinterest. maybe i'm "noncorrect". anyway, i like skiing. makes me all warm and fuzzy inside, even if my hands feel like pizza bricks, which is why i thought of this brief and past-tense scene.
in other news, it's cold. like "lobster boat in january off the northeast coast of labrador" cold. "throw as much wood as you can fit in the stove and maybe some diesel, too" cold. "wait at the bottom of the chair hoping a pretty girl comes along to cuddle with even though you don't know her and she's likely to punch your lights out" cold. i don't know how this came about, cos it's also WESTERN WASHINGTON. something about "modified arctic air" and local TV weatherperson catnip. heads tryna "clearify" just "how cold it's gonna get tonight" with more than a touch of schadenfreude and a loopy grin.
in other other news, i'm tryna "clearify" whether it's more lonely in phinney ditch, where i'm outnumbered by uninterested women, or in the white river drainage, where there are no women. every year, i think "maybe this is the year" and then it shows up, and i think "maybe next year." then i crave a 1554 and some waffle fries and a pudding cup and a juice box. (no, not that kind.)