Comrade: Can you make me waffles?
This is a two or three time a week ritual. Usually, we just make plain waffles with maybe cinnamon or brown sugar or some slight tweak. Sometimes we make apple cider waffles or French Toast waffles or something more complex. But, usually, just waffles. He mentioned waffles being a superior food on our first date, and ... He really likes waffles.
So I made waffles this morning. Even though I was very tired.
Comrade: How are the waffles coming?
Comrade: Is it a double batch or a regular batch?
Me: Regular. I'm not that hungry.
Comrade: What flavor?
Me: Waffle flavor.
Comrade: What kind of waffles?
Me: Waffle waffles.
Comrade: What's in them?
Me: Waffle ingredients.
Comrade: Ok. Sorry. Waffles are my favorite food.
Me: I know.
Comrade: I'm not usually decisive about things.
Me: I know.
Comrade: But it's one thing I'm sure of.
Me: Which is ironic.
Me: Because "to waffle" means "to be indecisive".
Comrade: Oh. Oh. My life makes so much more sense now. I. I have to take some time to think about this.
Me: Do you want maple syrup?
Comrade: I. DON'T. KNOW.
How do you look someone in the eye when you're losing by 100 points, and then your same sex partner plays "faggot" on a triple word score? Like, you see that, and you politely leave and never come to game night again, right?
Sleepy Comrade: Do you think camels go to Heaven?
SC: I just like camels.
Me: Well, dromedaries certainly. I don't know about the others.
SC: What about horses?
Me: We exist in their Hell.
SC: I don't trust them. I think they can walk on two legs, and are plotting to destroy us.
Me: We kinda deserve it based on what people have done to horses for millenia.
SC: But they should be up front about it. No ... sneaking around on two hooves when no one is around.
Me: Is that what I'm like when I'm sleepy?
SC: No. You're less. Cohesive.
Me: I'm coming unglued!
SC: No. That's adhesive. Get your hesives straight.
Me:It's always hesives with you. What about shesives and theysives?
SC: There are only hesives. The Patriarchy is real, and enforces the glue binary!
Me: The Glue Binary is what happens to bad horses when they die.
SC: Can you ... can you just get up and make dinner or something?
Yesterday was Comrade's birthday. As we've had almost every day so far this year, hanging out at home or going out, he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. So I ordered him a cookie cake from Perpetually Stoned Cookies.
I ordered the cake at three. Our store closed at eight, then I made my way to the cookie store.
Me: Hi. I'm here to pick up a cookie cake.
Stoned Employee 1: Sorry, those take an hour to make.
Me: That's ok. I ordered it over five hours ago.
SE1: Yes, but they take an hour.
Me: So. If I ordered it five hours ago, it should be ready.
SE1: What? You need to order them from our website.
Me: I did.
SE1: Then you have to wait an hour.
Me: Yes. I ordered one, online, at three. It's 830 now.
SE1, to the back room: DO YOU HAVE ANY COOKIE CAKES READY?
SE2: THEY TAKE AN HOUR.
Me: I ordered one five hours ago?
SE2: Your should order it online.
Me: I did.
SE2 walks into the back.
SE1: Umm. Do you want some cookies instead?
SE2: I definitely don't have any cookie cakes ready. I could make one but it would take---
Me: About an hour? Yes. That's ok. I don't have an hour.
SE1: I'll just give you some cookies instead.
Me: Okay. Could I have two chocolate chunks.
SE1: We're out of those.
Me: O....k. Two M&Ms?
SE1: We only have one left.
Me: Big rush tonight?
Me: Two snickerdoodles?
Me: Two peanut butter cups.
SE1: DO WE HAVE ANY PEANUT BUTTER CUPS BACK THERE?
SE2: I JUST GAVE YOU A WHOLE TRAY OF THEM.
SE1: DID NOT!
Me: It's ok. I'll just have--
SE2: WE'RE OUT OF PEANUT BUTTER CUPS.
Me: What do you have left?
SE1: Sugar cookies.
Me: I guess I'll have four sugar cookies.
SE1 opens the cookie oven.
SE1: We're all out of sugar cookies.
Me, to the people behind me: Am I in a Monty Python skit?
Person behind me: What's a monkey python?
Me: Oh no.
SE1: I can give you four oatmeal raisin cookies.
Me: Of course you can. I'll just have four white chocolate macadamia cookies.
I take the box of cookies and order a Lyft, which arrives immediately. I go online and order a cookies and cream ice cream cake. On our third night together, I mentioned being irrationally angry at the existence of cookies and cream flavored Oreos. Comrade claims that's when he knew he loved me.
I am scheduled to arrive home at 9:20. The cake is supposed to arrive at 945. Perfect, I'll make waffles for dinner (we got a waffle maker for Christmas because he thinks waffles are the perfect food, and I think they're ok), then the cake will arrive. At 910, my phone rings. They are, somehow, already at the house. I am in front of their store, which is five minutes away from my house. I call Comrade.
Comrade: Did you lose your keys?
Comrade: Then why are you ringing the doorbell?
Me: That's not me. It's a delivery. Can you get it? I'll be home in a second.
Me: I --
My phone rings call waiting.
Me: Hold on a sec. The delivery guy is calling me.
Delivery Guy: I have your delivery. I'm outside.
Me: I'll be right there.
Delivery Guy: Umm. There's already someone here who says it's his.
Me: That's fine. You can give it to him.
DG: I thought you were going to pick it up.
Me: It's fine. That's my dudefriend. He can pick it up for me.
I click back over to Comrade.
Comrade: I have the food.
Me: I know.
Comrade: Where are you?
The car pulls on to my street.
I hang up the phone.
I start to get out of the car. The delivery guy is turning around in the parking lot. Comrade walks into the building. My phone rings.
Comrade: Why did you hang up on me?
I knock on the door behind him.
Comrade, hangs up his phone. "I thought you had your keys."
Me: I do!
Comrade: Then why did you knock on the door? Nevermind. I hope this isn't dinner. I just made waffles.
Comrade: Did you get two ply toilet paper last time we went shopping?
Me: Of course.
Comrade: Good. The new alternatives do Not look comfortable.
Comrade: I fucked up.
Me: What's wrong?
Comrade: I broke the sink.
I go into the bathroom. Everything is fine. The plunger came undone in such a way that I was able to immediately fix it.
Me: This isn't a broken sink. Did I ever tell you about the sink at my old apartment?
Comrade: No? Why would you?
Me: My fourth roommate broke the sink. Way back when I was still living with my first roommate. I was having a party, and he pulled it right out of the wall. It was one of those hanging sinks. But it wasn't his fault. My first roommate had been inviting strange men over and was having them fuck him against the sink for some reason. I don't know why. 'Oh yea, baby, run that water. Fill that sink with bits of shaving cream and severed mustache hair yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh. Oh yea. *squeaky noise* squeaky noise* Ooooooooooooh. Shppppppppppphhhhhhhhhhh.' "
Comrade: Are those ... sex noises?
Me: They were his sex noises, yea. It's why we didn't work out. I mean, I don't work out because I have this awesome bod, but --
Comrade closes the bathroom door in my face.