NEWLOVE

I have no idea how Brad and I are possibly together still after everything he has had to endure in our relationship. For example, shortly after we first started dating, Ixel moved into my one-bedroom apartment in LA with me and we were inseparable (Ixel & I, not Brad & I.) We used to tease him mercilessly… about anything and everything. Thank you, Brad, for putting up with us.Ixel and I would fly into a panic whenever we knew he was coming over. “Quick! Hide the vodka! Hide the cheese! Hide the ice cream!” Whenever Brad had been over, you could always tell by looking into the fridge and seeing the absence of these items. So, we did what any normal person would do, we shoved everything into the back of the freezer and camouflaged it with bags of frozen peas and the like. (Now that he’s moving in, I have to resign myself to the fact that I will never again open up the fridge to enjoy the cheese I saved for a rainy day because it will have vanished.)

We It got so bad that we would always taunt Brad about his favorite meal – an ice-cream sundae with cheese chunks sprinkled on top and vodka in place of the hot fudge. Brad would just look at us in defeat, shake his head and sigh, “You’re right, girls. That’s my favorite. A vodka and cheese ice-cream sundae.”

One time, Ixel forgot to hide the vodka and didn’t realize it until Brad walked in the door. So in fear of the angry lesbian domestic abuse she would get from me later behind closed doors, she tossed Little Debbies as bait throughout the apartment to lead him away from the kitchen so I could bury the vodka behind a carefully stacked pile of ice packs and veggie burgers. He crawled around on all fours voraciously snatching the tasty treats with his paws and nearly eating the plastic wrap as well as the yummy goodness he was inhaling.

On one particular evening, Brad and I were on the phone when he announced that he would be coming over shortly for a visit. I looked sternly at Ixel and gave her the international sign-language for “Hide the cheese, vodka and ice-cream. Move! Move! Move!” and she promptly sprang into action.

Ixel and I were about to cook some food, macaroni & cheese in fact. (Yes, we are super gourmet.) So instead of having a bird sized portion each which is what happens when the Bradinator gets around food, I asked Brad if he had eaten or if we should make double the amount of food so he could have some. He said he’d already eaten. I said, “Are you sure you’re not going to want any?” He said that he was stuffed and we should just make enough for us, which we did.

When he showed up, we were just serving ourselves. “Hey girls. Whatcha eatin’?!” OH NO! The next thing we knew, he’d snaked his way into the kitchen, licking his chops the whole way and somehow finagled a bowl and fork and ate his way through our dinner before either of us could find any Little Debbies with which to distract him.

And of course, Ixel and I speak our own little language so whenever Brad was around, he’d looked bewildered and confused. On rare occasions he would speak up, knowing he would regret it later. “What’s a rufie?” He must’ve asked us five thousand times what a rufie is.

Rohypnol (flunitrazepam) is known as the date-rape drug. It might’ve been a good idea for us to explain it as such but we apparently gave him some far-fetched, abstract explanation so he was never sure what we were talking about and therefore couldn’t remember what it means. Thereby, every time we would mime breaking up a pill and sprinkling it in our drinks, he would go into his very frequent “deer-in-headlights WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO CRAZY GIRLS TALKING ABOUT and why do I keep coming back for more” state. Ah, the good old days.

Ooooo… I’ve got to go. Someone is out in the courtyard in the rain chanting like a monk and I’ve got to see what is going on. “In nomine patre deiiiiiiiiiiiii aaaaaaaaaaaaaamen.” This is city living at its finest.