Denise emailed me:
Just spent the past hour flipping through your site and laughing my ass off. But where do I fit in to all this? And how come no mention of smelly Belly freak-cat-thing? And what about Mr. Brian W.? You're leaving a lot of stuff out dude. I demand answers.
...and so, answers I shall give. A too-long, slow-loading page full of answers and pictures. But that doesn't mean you'll know everything about me. This is not a complete record of every wacky thing in my life. For example: Have you seen any mention of my creepy chicken arms? Or my freaky one-handed clap? Amy Cullen? Or why I needed stitches? I didn't think so.
One more thing- this is the way I remember this stuff. That doesn't mean that it's what actually happened. I'm sure Denise is going to offer corrections.
I've known Denise for, oh, fifteen years. I've dated her. I've been to her family's Thanksgiving dinners. She was my second-longest crush, and I just discovered I don't have a single picture of her. Very weird. However, she told me once that someone thought she looked like Belinda Carlisle, so I put her picture here instead:
For the record, I don't think they look alike.
I met Denise at Pierce College- I was working stage crew, and she was in the costume department. At the time, she and Lance were having an "open relationship," which is code for "let's make each other angry by dating other people." I was one of those other people.
Denise and I had a great time together- we talked for hours, laughed at each other's jokes, sang songs, went places, and did... uh... other stuff. I was so happy with her that I actually lost my job at the movie theatre when I went on a date with her instead of showing up for work. Everything was great - until I became an idiot and broke up with her. I said it wasn't her, that I didn't want to see anyone else. Apparently, that was only half-true, since less than a month later I started dating a girl I'm going to call "Kathleen Murray*," who promptly smashed my heart into itty-bitty pieces. Boy, what a dope I was. Here's a picture of Kathleen with Brian:
Picture altered to protect... well, me.
Kathleen's the suing type.
They're at her prom. She made Brian stand on his toes so he'd look taller than her. I'd like to point out that my prom date and I both did the "sneakers at the prom" thing before Brian did.
I've actually known Brian longer than I've known Denise. He and Ty and I went to high school together. He was (and is) the guy who isn't afraid to say anything. He's a champion smartass. Right now he's producing a Rocky Horror documentary called "A Regular Frankie Fan."
Some time after Denise and I broke up, Lance went to England for a year abroad at college. During that time, Denise's sister, Jackie, moved in with her. I'd met Jackie before- Denise and I had shown up at Jackie's friend's dorm. I found out later that Jackie's first words about me when we left were "what an asshole!" Of course, I didn't know that when I started dating her. That's right, I dated sisters! Not at the same time, of course- that's a little too "Dear Penthouse" for me.
An intentionally creepy picture of Jackie and I at Denise's house.
In the background: Paul McCartney's lips.
Jackie and I were together for something like seven years. We lived in an apartment in North Hollywood where we weren't allowed pets. That didn't stop Jackie from taking a kitten Nadine, her mom, found.
Nadine had named the kitten Paco. It was tiny- it fit easily in the palm of my hand- and abandoned by it's mother. It was too small for cat food, and it was covered in fleas.
Feeding Paco wasn't a big deal, once we got a baby bottle and formula. In fact, he ate so much that Jack renamed him Belly. But the fleas were a problem- the fleas would have killed him, and he was too young and fragile for flea dip. Our solution: garlic. We were told it would kill the fleas. We soaked that poor cat in garlic powder. The powder mixed with the formula gave Paco Belly the smell of an Italian deli, so I gave him his third name: Salami.
PacoBellySalami, the cat with three names, survived his troubled youth to become a complete freak. He liked to rub up against strangers, get them to pet him, then suddenly leap away and hiss as if surrounded by crazed badgers. He also enjoyed sitting up like a woodchuck and leaping into the air at your hands. Here's a picture of him leaping:
I'm not touching or dropping this cat-
he's leaping like the big freak that he was.
I'm not dating Denise or Jackie now- actually, it's been years since I have. Jackie's been with Tom for years now, and Denise has finally quit her habit of dating great big jerks and has been going out with a really nice guy named Garth for quite a while now. Yes, his name is Garth. Go ahead, make your silly "Wayne's World" jokes- he won't care. Why? Two reasons:
- He's a really nice guy, and
- no matter what you say, he still gets to sleep with Denise.
Party on, Garth.
Denise and Jackie currently take turns pissing off their mother and getting fired from her restaurant. Actually, I think Jackie's taken a few more turns than Denise...