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Ah, not-so-close-to-morning sickness. I thought you and I could step around each other. If you had to let me know otherwise, did you have to do it in so strong a manner?
(translation: I feel like I'm going to puke up everything I've eaten in months, and yet somehow I'm still hungry. Go figure...)
Anyway, I actually came in here to write a non-pregnancy entry. It's the story of how I became old and uncool in a split second...
Last Friday, I was wearing my Front Desk Upstairs hat at work, answering phones and making appointments and such. Around 10:30, this rather familiar looking guy walked up to the front desk and told Brenda he was checking in for his appointment.
She asked his name, perused the list and paused. "Umm, you don't have an appointment."
Further investigation showed that he had in fact had one, though it was the day before, around an hour and a half earlier.
Defeated, he hung his head. "I might as well give up, then. It'll take me another two months to get another one."
Brenda took pity on him and found him a slot for Monday at 1.
I watched the whole thing from the other desk, thinking, "I'm fairly certain that's Dave."
Dave is a local artist and the lead singer of a punk band with some local fame. He's also a good friend of the Artboy's. I've met him on numerous occasions, though I was pretty sure he'd always been too fucked up on them to recognize me out of context.
Regardless, when he was safely out the door, I crouched next to Brenda's desk. "Brenda, who was that? What was his name?" She confirmed for me that it was, in fact, Dave, and suggested that I plan to come up and say hello on Monday.
Monday rolled around and I had on my Medical Assistant Upstairs hat, giving me a good chance of saying hello. Michelle actually brought him into the room and did the medical assisting part of the routine, taking the opportunity to discuss with him the people they had in common (they both went to the same art school), and then telling him to stop at the desk--our desk--on the way out.
When he came out of the room, I was on the phone. They talked about artwork and local music for another minute and then he turned to go. I grabbed him as he walked away, stopping him in the hall. "Dave, sorry--before you go, I wanted to say hello. I don't know if you remember me, but I'm (the Artboy)'s ex-girlfriend, Jennifer."
His eyes lit up. "Dude! How are you?!?!?!" He gave me a big high five and smiled. We talked for a few minutes, mostly about the Artboy's band, and then he said, "I haven't seen you around, though--you and (the Artboy) broke up, huh?"
"yeah, it's been a while. Actually, I don't live in the city any more. I moved to Weymouth."
"Weymouth? Why would you do that?"
"Well, I got married in August, and it was sort-of part of the deal."
"Wow. Married and living in the suburbs..."
There was a pause, and then the words that did it.
"What happened to you, man? You used to be so crazy?!"
And there you have it, folks. How Jennifer became Old and Uncool in one split second.
It was still good to see him, though.
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