Why Don't We Have That Kind of Relationship?

My apartment building has a security guard that sits behind a desk in the main lobby and makes rounds in the building during off hours. The one security guard in the building ends up being a rotating set of repeating faces. They are all friendly enough and we talk constantly, exchanging salutations and schmoozing about the weather or about how we're doing or about the package I have waiting for me in the leasing office. We're all very close, or so I thought.

Yesterday morning on my way out the door one of my fellow tenants saw the security guard on duty and the two of them had a bit of a moment, doing one of those manly hand shake/friendship things, grabbing each other's hands, pulling each other together and gently bumping. One of them might have even thrown in a, "Good to see you, man!"

Then today I walked in to hear another tenant spilling his guts about his failed long distance relationship while the security guard on duty sat behind his desk listening so intently. I almost felt like I was intruding on someone's session with their psychiatrist.

But now I'm a bit jealous. How did the other residents build these relationships with the security guards? I hear people talking about family and kids and now ex-girlfriends. How do you bring that up?
Me: I have a package.
Security Guard: Oh, here it is. [hands me package] Anything else?
Me: No. Oh wait. I've always felt my mom loves my sister more than me.
Security Guard: [gesturing downward] Please, take a seat. That must be quite the burden to hold inside all these years...

Is it that easy? Am I just a cold prick? And once we've discussed our personal lives, does that mean I have to have this deep conversation every time I walk by? Or any conversation at all? It seems rude to open up one day and then just nod the next. Because regardless of how cathartic my security guard session is, sometimes I'm just going to want to walk to my apartment without saying much. Or I'll want to walk downstairs to do the laundry, and that's it.

Do I sacrifice that freedom for friendship? Those other tenants looked so happy. That manly friendship embrace — I want that. If only there were a friendly ear to bend about my dilemma.

Oh but there is, waiting for me right outside my door.

I Love You, But I Hate You Too

I want to meet the man responsible for this handiwork; this complete dedication to toilet seat coverage when going #2. I've been preaching this sort of thing since high school. It's step 2 to the 5 Step Process! But this guy takes the coverage to a level beyond what I've ever even imagined. Look at that total coverage, not a speck of seat peeping through. His ass is well protected, as it should be.

He and I may be twin shitting souls, separated at birth.

Unfortunately, when we were separated at birth my mom taught me cleanliness and respect of others while he, I can only assume, was raised by monkeys. Where is the common courtesy of cleaning up after yourself for the next guy? Have you no decency, oh kindred spirit?! Flush! Flush the TP away when you're done! And stick around to make sure it all goes down to flush again if necessary!

::takes a breath:: I'm sorry. My emotions are getting the best of me. I should give Seat Protector the benefit of the doubt. He must just be very proud of his TP seat layering technique (and I certainly don't blame him). Maybe he is leaving his artistry behind to brag anonymously. Or better yet, maybe he's trying to educate the lost souls of the world who are shitting with bare ass on seat. A noble cause, but the execution is flawed. Impeccable hygiene is being confused for a complete lack thereof. Without proper guidance (a simple instruction manual left behind alongside the TP covering, perhaps), his efforts will reach nobody. Poor shitting technique will still be practiced across the world and I'll be left to clean up the perforated cotton mess.

No sir, I don't like it. Clean up after yourself! Stop giving proper TP seat protection a bad name! And for gosh darn sake, flush everything down when you're done!

My Lunna and Me

Lunna and I have both been so busy lately that we haven't had much time to hang out. So we decided to take a few days off of work and spend some time together, just the two of us. And finally we got outside of the house with one another for a change!

It really ended up being some special times. Luckily we hired our own photographer to capture the memories.

Opening Day to see the Washington Nationals!

We enjoyed the nation's pastime while enjoying our own pastime of sitting and eating hot dogs...together. Lunna laughed at me when I got mustard on my nose. How embarrassing!

Lunna loves Disney movies so I bought her tickets to Disney On Ice: Lion King.

The costumes were beautiful. Unfortunately, Chia Scooby snuck in with us and I got a little angry; we could have all been kicked out! Lunna is always so good at calming me down though. I've gotta watch my temper.

A few years ago, Lunna came out of the "living room," so to speak. You go girl, be proud of who you are! Well, this year thanks to the timing I had the honor of joining her and her pals in the Capitol Pride march. Boy was that fun. What a bunch of crazy gals!

You probably can't read it in the photo, but my shirt says, "Corduroy is gay." And now Lunna is reupholstering herself in rainbow corduroy. I guess I'll have to buy a more colorful rug for the apartment to match.

And finally we tried to stay up all night outside the big, scary Scottish Rite building.

Lunna really knows how to tell a good ghost story. It's a wonder I ever got to sleep. Who am I kidding, it's no wonder. Lunna is so comfy!

On the last day of our adventures together, Lunna surprised me with this t-shirt she had made for me.*

I am a LUNNA-tic! Isn't she just the greatest chair a boy could ever have?!

* — Lunna had a little help on the shirt from her friends at Current Configuration, R Design and some unnamed sources.