Monday, July 15, 2013

Farewell to Armadillo.

You know what we need? A 30 second dance party. I think I'd heard it on Grey's Anatomy. And I love popping that at friends who haven't watched and they begin to doubt my sanity. Again. Why is what's normal for me not normal for others? Ah, I can hear cherubs. Momentary enlightenment. It's the reason why what's normal for others isn't normal for me. Cherubs are so whiny. That's why God made them extra cute.

I read about Hemingway and how he was a serial womanizer. He was a bundle of contradictions. I'd always imagined him as a sweet old man with grey, thinning hair and liver spots. And he'd go click- clack on his typewriter, each letter punctuated with wheezes and coughs. He'd have a homey nurse who thought the man was going senile. I never knew he'd be the guy who might pinch the nurse's bum. But I shouldn't be saying all this about him. I haven't met him, I haven't even read his books. Sorry Mr. Hemingway.

I shall read Farewell To Arms as a way of an apology. And the title does make me curious. Farewell to a beautiful woman called Armadillo? Excerpts from a conversation between Armadillo and me:
Armadillo: Friends call me arms. Just call me arms.
Me: Can I call you Dillo?
Armadillo: No.
Me: Dillo is such a cool name. Oh, it reminds me of something. Would you be offended if I tell you what it reminds me of?
Armadillo: Er.
Me: Yes or no? I think I heard "Er".
Armadillo: .......

That was a very short conversation. Huh. Farewell, Arms!

I'm really sorry, Mr. Hemingway.

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