November 15, 2013

Favorite conversations, Vol. I.

C: Will you take me out on my birthday?
D: Of course. 
C: Oh, wait. No. It's late this year. 
D: Courtney, it falls on the same day every year. It's your birthday.
C: No, I mean late in the week. It's on a Sunday. 
D: So, we'll celebrate you on Saturday and that will be that.
C: But you'll be in Brigham City?
D: That's only an hour drive from your parents' house. So, like I said, we'll celebrate you on Saturday. And that will be that.
(Something about not just celebrating, but celebrating me.)

Co: Oh, HEY. 
Ca: I haven't seen you around in a while! How've you been?
Co: Well!
Ca: Surviving the semester?
Co: Barely. You? And what's this? (Reaches up to palm his scruffed cheek. And golden dimples.)
Ca: This is me not shaving. 
Co: I'm a fan. 
Ca: I miss you. Why haven't I seen you?
Co: Because you stopped calling. 

D: Please let me buy your Dirty Diet Coke. 
C: Things I never thought you'd say. 
D: Please. 
C: No! 
D: (In a transatlantic, 1940's accent, reminiscent of Humphrey Bogart) I JUST WANT TO BUY MY LADY A DRINK! 
C: (...)
D: I regretted that accent as soon as it happened.
C: I didn't. Like, not even a little bit.

L: I just sent you an email. 
C: Should I go read it?
L: Probably. 
C: (Opens inbox. Sees an email from L. Subject reads ***IMPORTANT***. Opens email. Email is this.) 

D: I'm like Mr. Rogers. 
C: Okay. 
D: If I leave the house, I change my clothes. 
C: (Thumbing through closet) Have you seen how many plaid shirts you own? Just wondering. 
D: (Still on a Mr. Rogers kick) I mean, I can't leave the house wearing this--THIS IS MY LOUNGE HOODIE.
C: Let's count them (Starts counting. Three minutes pass.)
D: Did you give up?
C: Not exactly...
D: Did you get lost in the proper way to classify a plaid shirt? 
D: I know. It can be hard. 

Nov. 8, 2013 6:16 PM
D: Yo, what are you doing tonight?
Nov. 8, 2013 6:36 PM
D: Too slow. Now I've changed into my lazy clothes and I'm done for the night. 
Nov. 8, 2013 7:14 PM
C: You changed into lazy clothes at 6:30. This is why we are friends. 

D: (Brings food to booth)
C: You ordered an ice cream cone. 
D: Yeah, so?
C: Nothing, it's adorable?
D: My diet consists of Pop Tarts in the morning, grape soda for lunch, and pizza for dinner. 
C: Tell me: what's it like to be a thirteen year old boy? 
D: It's delicious. 

(At a reading centered around the love letters exchanged between Georgia O'Keefe and Alfred Stieglitz given by one of my favorite professors, Dr. Jennifer Sinor.) 
Dr. Sinor: I believe in the power of letters. I don't think people fall in love with each other through text messages. But with letters, that's how you fall in love. 
D: (In a whisper) Is that why you love You've Got Mail so much?
C: How did you remember that?
D: We watched it that time it was your turn to pick the movie.
C: (Pause, shocked by attention to detail.)
D: Love Letters.

C: Sometimes I wonder what the world would be like if we all ditched our cars and rode horses. 
D: It would be cold...
C: Wow, that was really groundbreaking information.
D: You couldn't make out in the back of your horse, so there's the real problem. 
C: Who does that, anyway?
D: I like making out in the back of the car...
C: That's tacky. And high school. 
D: I've done it since high school. 
C: That's because you're kind of ghetto.
D: My seats lie flat, though. 
C: Oooo... keep going, you're reeling me in.
D: I'm serious. It's sort of like you're on a couch.
C: But really, you're just on the floor of a car.
D: You don't think it's romantic?
C: No. Like, why wouldn't you just go to your house and do that?
D: What if you can't get to your house?
C: Then I guess there's no kissing until you can get there. 

C: Have I ever told you that you look like Jude Law?
D: No, but I am extremely flattered by that. Thank you. 
C: You're welcome. 
D: He's got a better nose than me. 
C: Your nose is fine. 
D: He's got more hair than I do. 
C: Your hair is fine.
D: It could be better. 
C: Well, you're 29 now, pal. 
D: That was hurtful.
C: But also the truth...

1 comment:

i like words. and you. write me a few?