It Sometimes or Always Ain't the Way it Seems

There have been times over the past few years when my friend, the now more than ever buff non-buffy (but still quite the blessed demon fighter in her own right- THANK GOD) has frustrated me more than infuriated me either with something said or done or something not said or not done. This no doubt is more of a reflection on my often times overly sensitive and paranoid and always moody nature, but it has at times helped me gain perspective and a greater appreciation for her as an actual person rather than some ideal dream figure made up by a flickering imagination. I like her for her faults rather than in spite of her faults.

Long before I met her I developed a theory that the number one sign that there was something terribly askew with our society was that people not only were paying money for the sole purpose of being tan, but worse yet people were actually plunking down large sums of cash to buy the equipment needed to create and maintain a tan without ever having to spend a second in the sun.

The first time I ever saw the then not as buff non-buffy was towards the end of a winter and her impressive golden tan made her stand out in a room otherwise filled with typically pale looking Minnesotans. I couldn't take my beady little eyes off of her yet years later I learned it wasn't the tan that held my attention. She in return looked my direction but more through me than at me.

She maintained her tan over the entire beginning of our friendship and the first time I was over at her place on a Pebbles and Bam Bam day (she has a sunny disposition but likes to moon people) I saw she had a tanning bed in one of her rooms. So for the times over the years when I felt like I liked her a little too much, I merely had to keep reminding myself that she was one of those people that years before I had railed against and that was definitely a strike against her.

I found out Tuesday that the tanning bed wasn't hers. It belongs to her sister who didn't have room in her own home to store the contraption. My bad. (I was man enough however to apologize for my presumption even though she had never heard my presumption before.)

But as was recently pointed out in another circumstance I am not exactly a model of consistency in life. I was reading my morning copy of the St. Paul Pioneer Press (only 25 cents!) and looking closely as I am wont to do at last week's Nielsen ratings. I was dismayed to see my least favorite Sandra Bullock movie (well besides Ms. Congeniality) Time to Kill (co-starring Matthew McConaughey who is described by the person who scares me as "the cute boy who sweats so well") actually finished as the third most watched show of the week while at the same time a far superior movie Sling Blade finished 31st. I was outraged. "This is what is freaking wrong with America," I declared to no one but was overheard by the Ike Reilly lovin' blue eyed intern who sits next to me. I guess she can't help but listen to my increasingly disturbing lunatic rantings every once and a while.

She was surprised that I didn't like Time to Kill a Sandra Bullock movie that people actually seem to like. I explained that it always disturbed me that the movie's message tried desperately to justify that sometimes murder is OK. She looked at me deeply for a moment and said, "Isn't the message of Sling Blade the same?" I thought about it for even a briefer moment and realized she had more than a point... she was right damn it. Oops, my bad again.

But that's OK because I'm going insane. The other night I had a dream where I was a contestant in the Miss America Pageant (I think I was still a guy but I'm not entirely sure). All I do remember is that I finished second which surprised many people and was a great disappointment to myself. I woke up with an overheated moaning kitty beside me and thought to myself, "Well that was rather disturbing. I wonder what that meant?"

The only other thing I remember about the dream is that there was a cameo appearance by a recently departed co-worker, the one who actually used to laugh at my jokes once in a while, the one smart enough to list Ted Williams' book of hitting on her all time favorite books even before he became a sad frozen stiff. I'm not sure what she was doing there and I'm not even sure what role she played in all this. After not sleeping for the rest of the night (of course) I thought about something this co-worker and I discussed during the legislative session, an idea others might think another typically forced spitting into the wind by me, but she thought was rather amusing if not clever. It is my goal for the state of Minnesota to secede from the union and form its own country after annexing the Dakotas for more land. The name of my new country? East Dakota of course. In East Dakota there would be no taxes while you live, but everything that's left when you die goes to the government. In East Dakota we would only fund K-11 because everyone blows off their senior year. In East Dakota everyone would live in peace and harmony even the hypocrites and heartbreakers.