Friday, 16 January 2015

Death n' roll, it's called (love that).

Two or three times a year Ben's friends show up and take over the whole point for a day or a weekend and then they vanish again. This is one of those days. They eat everything. They make me laugh. They tease him incessantly and they bring presents in the form of things like the best, newest stereos with plugs that don't fit North American outlets (I have that covered though), vintage guitars (!!) and entire crates full of merchandise.

Fun fact: Men's medium fits no one. Ever.

Also fun fact: Who the fuck fits a ladies XS junior? Ruth is a 00 size and she can't even squeeze into those shirts. I'm sure she could when she was 2. I'm being punked, right?

Final fun fact: I haven't fallen asleep yet. Score!

They played some music together between conversations on the porch (It's metal! You can't play metal quietly) and our uptight, homophobic neighbors across the cove called the cops within minutes, who came down to check things out but of course they can do nothing because I know the noise bylaw and it doesn't kick in until long after dark but because we're actually nice people (if you try to get to know us) we took it inside.

Because we're not that nice we opened all the windows.

Everyone looked the same as always, just slightly older. They asked me who did this to me, who cut my hair and made me look like a boy? I was quickly defended with a few comments about how I probably did it to look taller. Consensus is it's had the opposite effect and I look smaller. Then a chorus of awwws let me off the hook and they moved on to teasing Lochlan for almost burning himself down from the inside out last fall, something Ben had told them about over Christmas when they spoke of coming for a visit. They brought Lochlan a giant antique copper fire extinguisher. I don't think it works but he loves it anyway.

By eleven this morning it was too loud and too crazy even for me and they switched gears, opting to rendezvous for an early traditional Benjamin-lunch which is when eight of them go and bring back twenty pizzas (sometimes the numbers vary slightly but they must always be even). And then I'll make actual-lunch because the pizza won't be enough. I have a headache from laughing, Caleb is afraid to leave his house and I got to hear Ben mimic a Swedish accent which was so terribly done he should be publicly shamed. We were laughing too hard to film him, however, so my proof has gone to the same place his dignity wound up.

It's just nice to see him so happy.