JavaJennifer

I had a fantasy of what it would be like to see Mr. Wii and it didn’t include being on my cel phone with a client in my travel clothes which consist of sweats and my Merrills when he let himself into my hotel room.  USAir and United in a likely conspiracy routed my luggage to India (it must have been India because all subsequent phone calls to United were routed there) which contained the mail order condoms I mentioned in a previous blog and essential things.  Like soap.

Thankfully, I get a cosmic do-over next week when he joins me in DC for the 4^th of July.

I’m not supposed to be in Chicago this morning and maybe my luggage knew that but I have meetings here and then will fly to Kansas City to be there for my Aunt’s 60^th birthday.

Any chance to be in Chicago- and especially to get the bonus visit with Mr. Wii- is a good thing.

We walked a short distance to the Weber Grill so that I could have a vegan burger and he could get a real one (although my veganism certainly separates me from most of my inner circle, he’s not an adventurous eater).  Holding hands over what was in 1962 pronounced the “Most Beautiful Steel Bridge” we took in a perfect summer night in the calmness of the Windy City.

Conversation flowed naturally easing into the comfortable silences of people who have known one another longer than we have.  To anyone looking at us, we weren’t on a first date.

He wants me to title this blog “Mr. Wii, Renaissance Man” in a nod to the name of the hotel we stayed at  (the one I always stay at when I’m in Chicago) and in praise of his evolved ways.  He also chastised me heartily for censoring a comment that he made on a previous blog entry earlier in the week.  I told him to get his own blog.

It’s difficult to explain why I’m basically OK putting it all out there but why his comment which, to effect asked me what I was going to do when he wore me out and the vibrator hadn’t yet shipped, needed to be removed.   Shakes said it best:  “TMI, eh?”   Yep.  TMI.

This is what’s weird.  I’m all willing to be out there about the things that don’t mean anything. But just as I struggled over the blog  I wrote about meeting Mr. Wii the first time, I ‘m struggling to write this entry as well.  In direct contrast, my blog about the 21 year old came together in 10 minutes.  I’ve been working on this one for over an hour.  Why?  Because the 21 year old attaching himself to my neck like a remora meant less than nothing.  Watching Mr. Wii sleep?  I can’t even write about it.

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This entry was posted by javajennifer on Friday, June 27th, 2008 at 9:52 am and is filed under Black Coffee in Bed. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.