2001-12-30 || 3:44 p.m.

|| my friend joe. ||

the other night i went to joe's house. we watched snippets from 'the warriors' (joe, with arms raised, hand balled in fists, with the deepest flanny voice i have ever heard: 'can you DIIIIGGG IIIITTTT?!!?!?!?') and i cut his hair in the kitchen. he's drinking peruvian beer. he's trying to get me to use the sexy silver clippers (i like the scissors better. clippers scare me. all that buzzing and sharp edges.). he shows me his freshman yearbook picture, which i find terribly endearing. it doesn't look a bit like him. i sweep up the hair and he applies sassy hair products. he gives me a dreamy shirt (which i am wearing right now. thank you joe.) and he decides on the wooly coat because i am wearing a parka and he can't wear a parka. he understands these things. we don't want a brighton rumble on our hands, oh no. we drive to the castro and quickly fall into a leather pant/leather jacket/leather chaps (that would be 50 points, don't you think?) counting competition. we say hello to a far away friend at the castro theater. we go to find burritos. joe is getting the major check out. burly men are checkin out joe's crotch (em. sorry.) with hungry directness and it takes everything in my motherly powers to shield joe's hottness. we eat burritos that quickly fall apart. we talk mad shit. we admire golden retrievers stuck outside in the rain. we weasel our way past the ticket booth and get into the movie for free. 'female trouble.' joe and i are in the very middle of the theater, hoping the somewhat disappointing turnout of old queens won't dampen the movie-watching hijinx. the movie starts. joe and i are laughing. alone. much too loudly. people are turning around. we still laugh. i am swooning over the scene where divine is dancing and posing and tripping along a baltimore street (brilliant! i wish i could make the catty/sexy poses and faces divine does.). we are peeing our pants over the trampoline scene. the movie ends and we are still laughing as people are leaving the aisles. outside we are trying to make the divine faces and poses. we need to practice. we decide it is high time we make a musical, complete with choreographed dance scenes (preferably in busy san francisco intersections) and singing about matt's hair (musical-worthy, it is.). lovely.

dear joe, i think it is so nice you are my castro theater movie going partner in crime. love, jenn.

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