My gay friend Stephanie brought up a very interesting point yesterday. She said that her parents had pretty much figured out that she was a lesbian, and that the big clue was simply a pronoun. You see, they already knew that Carly was her “best friend” and that she hadn’t dated any boys in a long time whey were spending a lot of time together and even discovered gay porn at some point, but the thing that really tipped them off to Stephanie and Carly being lovers was the fact that Stephanie always said “we” instead of “I.”

When you’re in a relationship, you tend to say “we” all the time without qualifying the plural. Now, obviously it’s normal to talk about yourself and other people, but normally you qualify it first by saying, “Carly and I don’t need a fridge for our apartment; we already have one.” But when you’re in a relationship, you tend to simply say, “We don’t need a fridge for our apartment; we already have one.” Basically, you talk like my grandmother always talks (she always assumes you know who she’s thinking about, so she leaves out names and goes straight to pronouns).

So if you’re trying to keep your relationship a secret from your friends or relatives, be careful to say your significant other’s name instead of jumping straight to “we.” People will eventually notice.

Well, after Survivor last night I didn’t go straight home. Chelsey had the video of Bat Boy with her and people were going back to 820 to watch it, so I joined them. I was really tired by midnight, though, so I went home just before intermission. I’ll have to see the rest of it some other time.

When I arrived at home, I began the arduous task of packing. I decided to just pick out a whole bunch of clothing that would generally match. It was a lot easier than setting aside specific outfits for specific days. Hopefully it’ll work. I just packed a bunch of t-shirts, some thermal henleys, a few button-down shirts, and a few pairs of jeans. Then I added socks and underwear, and I was done. Simple as that.

I think I got to sleep around two o’clock. I set my alarm for six, but I woke up at a quarter to six accidentally. I had a stomach ache when I awoke because I was too cold, so I decided to bundle up the covers and sleep some more. Apparently I snoozed my alarm several times in my sleep, though, because when I finally got out of bed it was already a quarter to seven. I was supposed to be at my parents’ house at seven. Fortunately I took a shower right before retiring, so I just needed to throw on my nicely laid-out clothes, place my bags in the car, and go.

We didn’t leave my parents’ house until seven thirty for some reason. Steve soon realized he had forgotten his passport at his apartment in Los Angeles, and his keys were at our parents’ house, so we had to turn around and drive back to Long Beach, then to Steve’s apartment, before driving to the airport.

The airport was relatively hassle-free. There were no long lines. We were able to use a kiosk to check in. It even let us scan our passports (or in my case, enter information from my birth certificate) to verify our citizenship. Then we walked up to a counter to check our bags, and we were on our way to security.

I didn’t get stopped at security, and I didn’t even have to take off my shoes or turn on my laptop. Everyone else in our party was stopped, though, and they had to deal with the magnetic wand thingy. Still, the line wasn’t long, so that wasn’t much of a hassle. Especially not for me, since I got to stand idly by and watch them pose like Jesus.

I got a hazelnut latte from the Starbucks in the terminal, and I noticed something fishy. The only Starbucks that charge sales tax are the ones in airports. I always pay the exact amount on the menu for my drinks at other locations, but when I’m in an airport, I find myself fishing around for pennies because the total is some odd amount. In this case, it was $4.01. How annoying is that? Fortunately, my dad was nearby and had a penny.

We boarded right after I got my drink, and we left right on time. I’m typing this on the plane.

Now, because we’ve had such good luck on the way up, I’m assuming that one of two things is going to happen: Either we get to Canada and have a hell of a time getting through immigration (presumably because of my really old birth certificate, which they often suspect is counterfeit), or we have a hell of a time leaving Canada on Monday. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Juggling has been rather successful.

Monday after work I went over to 820, but Matt was the only one home, and he was boring. He’s been playing his Star Wars game non-stop lately.

So I left and joined the SoCo group at the Mission mall. We had dinner at PF Chang’s, and then we chilled on some big chairs and couches at the mall until after it closed. Then we went back to Mike’s, and when his dad kicked us all out, I went back to 820 to join Matt, Danny, and Chelsey. We just hung out and watched Matt play his game, but it was fun because I got to massage Chelsey’s calves.

Yesterday after work I went to 840 for French Dip Night. John, Carrie, Matt, Chelsey, and Bennett were all there. It was nice to see Bennett again. Everyone enjoyed their French Dips (except Bennett, who is a vegetarian and therefore had grilled cheese instead), and I ended up leaving John’s around 8pm.

Next I went over to Jerry’s Famous Deli in Costa Mesa, where Amanda and Amanda had just been seated. Then Mike, his boyfriend KC, my darling Val, and her sister Vanessa joined us, and we moved to a bigger table and had a delightful time. After that, we went back to the Dolans’ house in Coto, and we played a little Apples to Apples before giving up around 12:30am and all going home.

Amanda surreptitiously hid Val’s hat in my car so that I’d find it this morning and therefore be forced to see her sometime today.

So today… My boss took the day off, which means I can goof off this afternoon. The SoCo group wants to go to Disneyland around lunchtime, so I’ll prob’ly join them. I’ll either get a new pass or get Marcus to sign me in. And then after that, I’m going to watch Survivor in Orange (at John and Danny’s parents’ house). Once again I’ll successfully be able to hang out with both groups.

Of course, at some point, I should really pack. I have to be at my parents’ house at 7:30am tomorrow to leave for Canada.

There are days when I’m swamped with messages (both text messages on my wireless phone and instant messages on AOL), and I can barely keep up with all the simultaneous conversations in which I’m involved.

And then there are days like today, when everyone seems to be ignoring me.

One of my neighbors, accompanied by an electric guitar, has been singing “Margaritaville” repeatedly, non-stop, for the past hour. I’m starting to seriously consider the advantages of moving into a house.

I really hate it when I’m trying to type something suave and flirtatious like, “eventually you’ll cave in,” but instead I type, “eventually you’ll cave it.”

I mean, what’s up with that? Replacing “n” with “t”? They’re not typed by the same finger; they’re not even typed by the same hand! Why did my brain think I wanted the word “it” instead of “in”? It completely fucked up my flow. No, really, “it” completely fucked up my flow.

And just now, while typing the previous paragraph, I kept typing “thing” instead of “think.” In fact, I generally type the wrong one first whenever I type either of those words.

I hate brain typos.

Or as I like to call them… brait nypos. Ha ha.

So I was thinking about Thomas Crapper, who supposedly invented the flush toilet (although, in reality, he just marketed it or something).

Anyway, I was thinking about this dilemma: It would be cool to be a descendant of the guy who is credited with inventing the toilet, but at the same time, it would really suck to be named Crapper.

Of course, the only reason it would suck to be named Crapper is that the name eventually became slang. Now, if his name had been, like, Smith or something, I seriously doubt this would have happened. But he had the misfortune of having a name that sounded like a verb, so it was easy for our troops in World War I (who apparently coined the slang because water closets were marked “T. Crapper”) to treat his name as such, and consequently to shorten it to a noun version, which became popular slang.

At first all I could think was, how was this guy elected homecoming king? But anyway, that’s not really the point:

Homecoming King Expelled for Weblog Post (via kottke.org)

Dude, if there had been online journals when I was in school, I so would have been expelled.

I mean, I was anyway, but… yeah.

Matt finally dyed his hair black last night. He obviously wants to be just like me.

I was considering dying my hair as well (some crazy color, like pink), but then I had a conversation with Nicole about it, and of course one’s crush is the single person who can talk him out of any decision.

“Isn’t it already black?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s black,” I verified, “so I can’t dye it black.”

“Well then, I don’t think you should dye it anything,” she said. “I thin k= black looks good on you.”

A moment later she added, “Ahh stupid keyboard.”

Last night, Matt, Danny, Chelsey, and I were putting together a bulletin board for the boys’ house covered with just pictures of our friend Kyle being an idiot. Kyle is a senior at Woodbridge High School, and he’s really popular, and all the girls want to do him, etc. Normally the bulletin boards are full of various pictures from parties or vacations, but we noticed that we had enough crazy pictures of Kyle to mandate giving him his own board.

Well, Kyle found out that we were making a board for him (because Matt can’t keep a secret), and he was really flattered (as he should have been). However, we decided it wasn’t as much fun if he knew about it and was flattered, so we also had to do something not so flattering.

We took some of the most embarrassing pictures off the board and took them to Kinko’s, and we each pitched in some money. We made three hundred copies. Then we drove to Woodbridge and taped up all three hundred copies all over campus. Our flyer included Kyle straddling a wooden horse, Kyle crossing his eyes, Kyle standing on his head, Kyle in his gay Peter Pan costume (which had a bare midriff because the shirt was too small), Kyle dressed as Mary Poppins, Kyle with Pirouette cookies up his nose, and Kyle holding up a Pirouette cookie at crotch level and pretending it’s his penis, but gay people was amused with this, since they like to have fun all the time, and even use adult content from sites as https://gayporn.wiki which are great for this.

Then we went to his house and put a few of them on his car. So this morning he’ll think, “Ha ha, nice prank,” and then he’ll get to school and think, “Holy shit.”