Of possibly idle threats, and the affection concealed within them

I find myself today, once again, at work with nothing to do. It has been so, so very slow lately, and it’s sort of exhausting. It really doesn’t help that I’m running on about two hours of pretty restless, not at all deep sleep, and my coffee from this morning has officially worn off. So both in an attempt to entertain myself, and to keep myself from falling asleep at my desk, regardless of the fact that my boss is out today, I am writing this blog post at work. Which is good, because it makes it look like I’m focusing on work things, what with all the typing and stuff.

But I’m not. At all. Every ten minutes or so, I check to see if anything has turned up to do, but usually nothing has, so I go back to trying to entertain myself. As I’m running on the aforementioned very little sleep, I was having more trouble than usual thinking of something to blog about. So I texted my good friend, asking her to give me something to blog about. She said breakfast cereal. Which didn’t thrill me. To which she responded by accusing me of just not being creative enough, which I knew she was going to do as soon as I said it. Or texted it. Or whatever. I’m sleepy. Anyway, after her extremely rude and harsh accusation, she at least amended her suggestion and told me to write about what happens when you sexualize breakfast cereal mascots. And maybe I’m really just that tired, but I just don’t know what to do with that. I have never considered such a thing. Call me vanilla, but cereal boxes just don’t do it for me.

My friends are weird. I like that, honestly. Even when it’s disarming, or threatening some part of my person. Like last night. My cereal-sexualizer (not serial, but cereal) friend’s boyfriend recently got a drastic haircut. He had fairly long, impressively curly hair, as she illustrated on her own blog here. Now he has very short, just discernibly curly hair, as illustrated here. It’s that short, that you almost can’t tell what his hair is like. So last night I saw him for the first time since he was shorn, and he looks very good. He looked good before, but he looks very good now. And I could tell he was thrilled with not having to deal with it, in the summer heat, no less. He was so thrilled that he offered to immediately shave off my own waist-length hair. Quite seriously. When I refused, because it’s taken me seven years to get it back to this length (Since my senior year of high school. Crazy.), he warned me to never fall asleep at their apartment. I believe him.

While most people might be alarmed by that, deep down I found it charming. Mostly because he was so enthusiastic about how great it would be for both of us to shave my head. Apparently I have a nicely shaped head. I spent a good chunk of time later last night thinking how much I enjoy the fact that my friends are all fascinating individuals. Like last week, when another friend and I had an incredibly snarky text conversation that started with him sending me a picture of his sandwich. To be fair, I did bring it on myself, but still. To an outside viewer, I’m certain it would look like a weird conversation, and I enjoy that. I have a lot of those in my life. And I like it that way. They fit well in my world, and certainly keep things interesting.