Personal Earthquake

Day five on Wellbutrin: God is female. If God were male, all of us women would have been born with libidos like this medication gives me. You think I'm saying this backward don't you? I'm not. Do you know what I did all weekend? Absolutely NOTHING. That's excluding the sex, with orgasms that probably tipped the Richter scale in San Diego. I'm not trying to rub this in, honestly.

I'm sitting here trying to figure out where the last two days of my life went. Did I get my brakes replaced? Did I buy groceries? How about the hair cutters? Did Hoop and I make it over to his Grandmother's for a visit? The answer is no to all of the above. It was the least productive weekend ever. On the other hand, Hoop is the happiest man alive.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(After watching Matrix Revolutions)
Tink: If I had to go off to Machine City, most likely to my death, would you go with me?
Hoop: Hell no! No point in both of us dying if one of us has a chance of surviving.
Tink: You wouldn't die with me?
Hoop: Some girls want fancy things, their boyfriend's money, ride around in expensive cars. But not you. You want your man to die for you.
Tink: Not for me, with me. There's a difference.
...
(Eight hours later. Hoop playfully asks me if I'm mad at him for something.)
Tink: No, I'm not mad at you for that.
Hoop: Oh but there is a "that?" What are you mad at me for then?
Tink: Because you wouldn't die with me.
Hoop: Oh Jesus Christ. Fine. I'll die with you. Happy now?
Tink: Yes.
...
(The next evening. Hoop and I hear a rustling in the underbrush next to the house.)
Hoop: What was that?
Tink: I don't know.
Hoop: Oh my God!
Tink: What?!
Hoop: Those people have their Christmas lights up still, and the way they glinted through the bushes they looked like two red eyes.
Tink: Holy shit, they DO. Wow, that's creepy.
Hoop: I was about to be like, "Baby... Run!"
Tink: Pffft. Whatever. You would have used me as a shield.
Hoop: Well, at least we would have died TOGETHER.