Jose and I were so hopelessly bored today that we both called each other 4 times -- that's 8 conversations, total. In conversation #5 we were both a bit unnerved by Patti LaBelle's rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" at the NBA All-Star Game. Jose said he covered his ears; I later told him I'd download it and burn it on a CD to present him for his birthday. I think Ms. LaBelle felt a hefty obligation to impress everyone and, redefined "giving it your all" as "wailing like a bloated cat having the life squeezed out of it."
Conversation #7 was online and Jose expressed dismay that the Winter Olympics were turning into the X-Games. I got angry at him for not explaining to me what they were; I had a vague idea it was related to ESPN and all things fast and jazzy. In conversation #8 I warned Jose not to give me any more his prophecies about who would take home gold medals this year. Of course, I was referring to the ladies' figure skating competition. In '98 he predicted the unsettling occurrence that Tara Lipinski would win, which of course, nobody expected -- and when that happened, I blamed it wholly on Jose. I can't remember what he messed up for me in '92 and '00 but I do remember in '96 he paged me in alphanumerics that the American gymnastics team won the gold, before I got to see it myself. Today I told him very firmly, "You are not giving me any of your lame-ass prophecies this year. This is our fourth Olympics together and you are not ruining it for me." There was a quick pause, and then he conceded, "Fine, I won't dabble in the Occult."
We laughed for a little while after that.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 9:43 PM
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