Since last I wrote, I have finally returned to good health…just in time for my sister’s boyfriend to come stay with me while at some nerdy gaming conference in SF. One interesting thing about Jon, other than his Southern accent, occupation as a 3D artist and uniquely relaxed nature, is that he’s made it his mission to “kindly prepare” my sister for a wide array of unforeseen natural disasters.
For example, if she’s ever stuck in a small space with no air, she’ll now know what to expect since such conditions have been successfully simulated by Jon lying on top of her while smothering her face with a pillow. He calls this helpful lesson “The Utah Cole Mine.” Aware of my unrelenting fear of sharks, he is currently devising a module to help me get ready for the inevitable scenario where I’m confronted by a great white. I will keep you posted on his creative approach and its corresponding title.
Anyway, Jon was a very easy houseguest who was happy to subsist on the contents of my kitchen left over from a week with the flu: orange Vitamin Water and transfat-free crackers. He even voiced his whole-hearted appreciation of the fact that SF’s public access station was running a show hosted by a fabulous tranny about the latest trends in drags shows . Something about “an admirable use of taxpayer dollars.”
But the BEST thing about Jon’s visit was his comment about my living room/"the guest room.” One morning when I asked him how he slept, he stretched his arms high above his head, cleared his throat, smiled and replied that he had had one of the best night's sleeps of his life. He then proceeded to thank me for ensuring that there would be a gentle breeze in the room, resulting in ideal slumber conditions.
Knowing that I had closed the windows the night before to help drown out the sirens on Valencia St right outside, his comment gave me pause. “Huh? Oooooh. That breeze is actually a draft that comes through the CLOSED windows (and then the curtains) in this room…but thanks anyway.”
Never before had I considered that the very same draft that necessitates me hanging out year-round in wool sweaters and fake Uggs could be repositioned as a luxurious, fresh and serene feature for sleepover guests. Suddenly, my apartment seemed a little less ghetto.
For example, if she’s ever stuck in a small space with no air, she’ll now know what to expect since such conditions have been successfully simulated by Jon lying on top of her while smothering her face with a pillow. He calls this helpful lesson “The Utah Cole Mine.” Aware of my unrelenting fear of sharks, he is currently devising a module to help me get ready for the inevitable scenario where I’m confronted by a great white. I will keep you posted on his creative approach and its corresponding title.
Anyway, Jon was a very easy houseguest who was happy to subsist on the contents of my kitchen left over from a week with the flu: orange Vitamin Water and transfat-free crackers. He even voiced his whole-hearted appreciation of the fact that SF’s public access station was running a show hosted by a fabulous tranny about the latest trends in drags shows . Something about “an admirable use of taxpayer dollars.”
But the BEST thing about Jon’s visit was his comment about my living room/"the guest room.” One morning when I asked him how he slept, he stretched his arms high above his head, cleared his throat, smiled and replied that he had had one of the best night's sleeps of his life. He then proceeded to thank me for ensuring that there would be a gentle breeze in the room, resulting in ideal slumber conditions.
Knowing that I had closed the windows the night before to help drown out the sirens on Valencia St right outside, his comment gave me pause. “Huh? Oooooh. That breeze is actually a draft that comes through the CLOSED windows (and then the curtains) in this room…but thanks anyway.”
Never before had I considered that the very same draft that necessitates me hanging out year-round in wool sweaters and fake Uggs could be repositioned as a luxurious, fresh and serene feature for sleepover guests. Suddenly, my apartment seemed a little less ghetto.
1 comment:
You forgot to mention your own personal experiences with Utah Coal Mine. For the record, Lauren is not a big fan of it, and I would wager it would be a tough call for her to decide which she hates most, UCM or a great white. I have a sneaking suspicion these two scenarios are equally horrible in her eyes and keep her up at nights. Now I am one to always push the envelope when it comes to testing people's fears, so I have a novel idea. Have a great white shark Utah Coal Mine Lauren! If a shark is not readily available, have someone wearing a great white shark costume perform the act.
BTW, I am amazed you omitted my offending gaseous powers from your recant. I must have temporarily paralyzed you from remembering that moment.
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