Um, yeah. This pretty much isn't an entry, really. Everybody's still here, though asleep (VERY late night up last night, I essentially got no sleep again. Sigh.), and given Demma's usual early riser reputation, I'm unsure as to how long I'll have before people get up.

There is a LOT to tell. Since they may be staying another night, it may take me a while to catch up. I'll get to what I can this minute until I hear noise out there and let y'all find out tomorrow.

I will warn you: Things WILL get weird in this tale. Very weird. I mean, there's stuff to tell you about that most folks don't accept in the world, and yet, well ... happen to me. I may just wait and get into all of that when I have more time and stick to the bare details of it all right now. Talk about your puzzled musing entries, oh, that one'll be a loonie. If this stuff bugs you when I get to it, then by all means, hit the back button, and it was nice knowing ya. (Or not, as the case may be. I wouldn't presume to know all of y'all who stop in.)

So. The bare details today. Right.

I faxed in my unemployment papers Tuesday morning at Kinko's. Joy oh joy. Again, the weirdness of not having a fax at my disposal any more. I assumed they'd charge for the usage, but they didn't have any of their usual Kinko's counter gadgets or whatever for the fax. It did, however, have a printout after it arrived at its location, which as far as I'm concerned is a Great Thing. Hell, if I'd only had that at my former place of employment, since we had problems with faxes not going out or coming in all the bloody time (I wonder who's having to deal with that now?). However, it didn't say on the report how much this cost, nor did the woman helping me mention it before wandering off. I tempted myself a bit with the idea of "hey, maybe it's free! Yeah, right! But hey, at least I wouldn't get fired for theft now!"-- okay, not really, but it was an amusing thought to me somehow. I eventually wandered to the register and found out faxing cost $5. $5? It took a minute, 30 seconds to do that! What the hell are they charging by?

Anyway. Also deposited the final paycheck on my way home, and the bank account is the fattest it's ever been. Slightly reassuring.

They showed up faster than I was expecting. Demma, continuing on the usual theme of "most of my friends play with hair dye), is a redhead, while her boyfriend Scott was a newly bleached blonde. Now I did not know what to expect from meeting him, but I figured it would be amusing. Lately, when you talk to Demma on the phone he's picking up enough of the conversation to be able to yell interjections in to me (perhaps they should just get two phones and put him officially on the line?), and that's not even counting when they start talking to each other while I'm sitting there (thinking "Do y'all even need me for this conversation?") or when he's doing some random thing to her leg at the time. It is hilarious, strange and weird.

That last line will summarize it all, really.

So they walk into my bedroom, and the first things Scott spots is not the random colorful "look like Jen was on LSD when she drew 'em" artwork, not the incessant moon photos (in other words, the showiest things in the room), but (a) the starter deck of Magic cards I have on the desk, (b) the "Say Anything" and "Princess Bride" posters on the back wall, and (c) the Star Wars Legos in the closet. Specifically,

(a) that that starter deck of Magic cards, with the cards in good condition, was worth a fair chunk of change on eBay (hmm, something to keep in mind if I get really broke, since I've never actually had anyone to play with and hence why they are unused),

(b) presumably he likes those flicks,

(c) "Oooh, Star Wars Legos! I nearly have all of them!"

At this point, I'm thinking "Yeah, we're gonna get along."

Odd coincidence: I forget how this came up, but Rocky Horror got mentioned, and Scott says he was in the old Berkeley UC theater cast ten years ago ... which, if I remember correctly, is the same cast the ex was in. While "the name sounds familiar", we do manage to pinpoint that we both know the fellow who did props for that show (this fellow used to date a now former friend of mine, but I think I won't get into that story either for now). Sometimes the coincidences can be eerie, I swear. To find one of the (what I call) "Berkeley" folks elsewhere was surprising.

The Berkeley gang my ex ran with was ... unlike any other group of friends I ever saw in my life, and I don't just mean that unlike most of my friendships, these guys lasted as a group for a decade or more. (Incidentally, one of this gang is an online journaler, not anyone particularly famous or that hangs out with the crowd or even lives in Berkeley any longer, but I won't say who it is in case you have heard of them. At any rate, it's been years and I have no idea if they'd even remember who I am.) The general "Berkeley" attributes include some magical leanings in some folks, some er, experimentation, more likely to have open relationships (which S&D are doing. Who woulda known that Demma might do that as well?), very open minded and very generally affectionate beyond what you will ever see in any other town, I suspect. If four people fall asleep in a bed after a party and wind up kinda all over each other (not necessarily that they're having sex, mind you) there, it is so not a big deal. It's actually considered quite odd if you DON'T read this casually or are standoffish. In this town, if you're seen on the street hugging someone of the other gender, it is assumed you are a couple. If you do this and you are not one or likely to become one, this boggles their tiny little minds. I haven't been around any of the Berkeley gang in years, but I do remember what it was like, even though I've once again gotten used to the standoffishness thing here.

Why am I telling you all this? You'll find out later. In the meantime, back to our narrative.

So we head to the car, and Scott lets me have the front seat. Which amazes me, given how about everyone I ever met in the world is all about the shotgun position, especially when there's a coupling thing going on. (Turns out he doesn't drive either! Whee!) Ages ago in the paper I'd found an ad for this store that sold Renaissance garb, and since they're in a guild (that would be how they met), they wanted to go too. On the way there, I find out all about the rabbit they're sitting and the rat they have. The rat is quite amusing, and it's sad I can't recall right now any details beyond in what body crevices it likes to sleep in.

The store's not exactly what I expected, but amazing nevertheless. There were two dresses in the front that I coveted immediately (hell, I'd get married in that Renaissance white gown), but alas, over $300. I restrained myself from trying those on. The store had the Renaissance stuff in the front and regular clothes in the back, so Demma and I browse around and pile on the clothes to try on while Scott chats it up with the owner, compliments our outfits (it's fun when you have a guy who knows how to sew around) and tries to befriend her cocker spaniel (heh, I almost just wrote that as "cocker", then er, realized what I was about to do), who seems to lead people on to think she wants a pet before getting snippy. Having dealt with my aunt's dog Sally once upon a time (Sally hated anyone who didn't live there), I was just happy I wasn't getting barked at.

While most of the stuff I try on looks good, there is The Shirt. It has white blousy sleeves and a red velvet bodice with a lace-up front and back. In the event I actually make it to a Renaissance Faire, I would have something to wear now. I have always wanted one of these. It is gorgeous. It is $48. Scott helpfully points out that I could buy this on layaway, which I consider until I realize that I have no way to get her the bucks and certainly no way to come back here and pick it up. I know I shouldn't be buying it. I know better. Of all the timing, I should not be buying it now.

You know I bought it. I am a bad, bad girl. BAD bad girl! On the one hand, guilt. On the other hand, how often do I find stuff like this? On the one hand, this is the same girl who's been freaking over paying for an extra bag of chips at lunch, on the other hand, hell, at least I didn't spend $100 instead of $50. Ah, the eternal debate of the shopaholic without an income.

We head back to my town and do lunch (to my relief, we get there around 1 p.m., at which point my ex-coworkers weren't likely to be out). They're striking me as a good match so far. Both of them can dish it out and take it and not mind, which is a good thing with Demma. That's hard to explain, but she can be hard to deal with when she is in that kind of a mood (which she has been in often enough after her mom's death this year), and he's willing to still be there. What else can I say, this impresses me. Hell, you hope that your friends will find someone decent and that you can hang out with too without things getting weird (or finding out the guy beats her up, as I found out one time a few years ago. We'll skip that ugly story, ok?). So all looks good on the western front.

After that, then wander the stores. I take them into the gift certificate store, where I was bummed to find out that everything I liked there cost $40. (Enough already on the shopping, honey.) We also wander into a bookstore and into the comic book store, where they had a lot of fun and picked up a Vampire: The Masquerade book. Then we made our way over to my favorite pub and played pool, then went home and watched Miss Congeniality (which Scott mentioned in the pub that he wanted to see). Then decide to go out for Chinese and a movie (Monsters Inc. again. He was dying to see it.).

(As the title says ... more to come.)

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