Since I consider myself a good bestie I'm going to force all of you to read a note of congratulations. A hearty, well done you old sods! to Muse and Hubby Cupcake for the first addition to their clan. Since he's my second nephew, the baby's blog title will be Nephtwo. Take note for mention of him in the future and pardon my sounding all too human here, but he's one freaking cute miniature concoction of their DNA. Lucky for Muse, Hubby Cupcake and Nephtwo, Boyfriend doesn't dabble in the Black Market...No Boyfriend, that wasn't an expansion pitch for your make-believe business. Check the power point, productivity rose in the last quarter, you don't want to burn yourself out by growing your empire too quickly.
Boyfriend, and I'm not certain if this is a compliment of his work ethic, is a man that brings his work home with him. Well, sort of. His Monday to Friday job has him buying and selling all sorts of edible dealys, the likes of which I have no idea what they are...seasoning this...minced that...sea plant samosa with a creme de florentine parsnip concoctable tapas. Exactly. That very well could have been something he's said at some point I don't rightly know. Now he doesn't bring his food-associated work home with him so much as the actions of buying and selling. Let me tell you some things.
Boyfriend should rent himself out as a thug problem solver. That should be his outside-of-business business. When he finds out that somebody wants to unload something of theirs Boyfriend will ask everyone in his 1980's rolodex (he's very high-tech) if they or somebody they know needs an old karaoke machine, used tennis racket, leftover dinner from The Keg, what have you. Boyfriend tasks himself to unite buyer with seller. I would like to issue a formal apology to whoever ended up with that partially-eaten prime rib. I wasn't as hungry as I thought I was, and Boyfriend sold off our microwave and stove. I had no way to heat it up.
As recently as last week, Boyfriend found a solution to a problem that arose. I should have known something was up when he met me at the door after work wearing an ill-fitting plaid suit and exuding Red Bull enthusiasm shouting, What can I do to put you in a car today? Looking back I'm not sure why I didn't regard this as strange behaviour. Boyfriend's boyfriend was hoping to sell off his PT Cruiser
...for a very reasonable price...well maintained...pristine some might say...It's the deal of the century.
Uh. No.
Why?
Because no. That's why.
To which his retort is to put more grease in his hair, draw on a pencil-thin moustache and restart. What can I do to put you in a car today?
One of my favourite Boyfriend shyster instances has to be the incident with the beer fridge. For a few years Boyfriend and I had a beer fridge in addition to our regular fridge in our runt-of-the-litter apartment because...well, I hate to say it was necessary because that just sounds bad. Oh wait, I have a reasonable explanation: We had a beer fridge because it was proportionate to the size of our apartment like our real fridge should have been. Made it look more normal. Fast forward to the day the temperature of the beer fridge busts and freezes the beer inside. Cut to Boyfriend sobbing and crying to the heavens as his beer is not readily drinkable, the rain outside was far too appropriate to the moment. Garbage! I shout and insist we immediately find it a graveyard. But no. Boyfriend looks at it and sees opportunity.
It's not a fridge, he insists, It's grown into a freezer.
It's not a freaking caterpillar doing a presto-chango into a butterfly. You're way wrong, fool. That mechanism be broken fo' sho'. Get it out now, we already have a freezer. Beer fridge bye-bye. Maybe I'm crazy, but Boyfriend doesn't seem to hear any of the words I've said protesting it's continued presence in our home. Am I some sort of mute that imagines hearing her own voice? I need to test out this mute theory...
Chaffed monkey danglers.
What?
Nothing.
Old theory shot to hell. New theory: Selective listening. New theory much more likely. Boyfriend gets on the horn instantly, crowing about this deal of the century. Yes, a real horn, like one of the ones they use in the Swiss Alps. I'm not sure why he needed to add lederhosen to the mix, but whatever makes it feel more natural for him. No big surprise, but of those he has called so far, nobody wants a busted-ass beer fridge as a freezer. Nobody especially wants to PAY for such a thing. That's the kind of stupid idea a cartoon baboon comes up with. Eventually Boyfriend gets to the end of his contacts list and of course, none were interested. Boyfriend sits in silence, concentrating ultra-hard, and I actually see the idea come to him. His hunched back straightened, and his furrowed brow rose in the delight one has when they solve a humongous dilemma. Dramatically slow, Boyfriend's head turned in my direction.
No.
You can ask Muse and Hubby Cupcake if they want it.
I already said no, the decline occupied the space before your idea was verbalized.
I had to cause a little brain damage to find that idea and remove it from his head. To those people that laughed when I found those forceps in the hospital, who's the foolish thief now? Boyfriend's idea was pretty gnarly too. I kept it in the jar until it snuffed itself out. Then I poured gasoline in the jar and threw in a lit match for good measure. Can't take too many precautions when it comes to Boyfriend's brilliant ideas.
Speaking of Muse, another time I received a telephone call from Boyfriend, it was business of course. As usual, when I saw it was him calling I second-guessed answering. The number of times it's been a call informing me of a boat for sale that he wants my dad to buy has made me a little gun-shy when it comes to answering his calls. Just before it goes to voicemail I answer.
Hi.
I found somebody to buy Muse's car.
She's not selling her car.
Somebody I know is looking for a car just like hers. You should call her and see if she wants to sell it.
She doesn't.
I swear you told me that she did.
Nope, you're wrong.
I could get her the deal of the century.
It's a leased car.
I'm sure we can work something out.
Bye.
And people wonder why I hesitate when it comes to answering his calls.
Does anybody out there want Boyfriend? I'll give you the deal of the century.
Time for tea,
K
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