Armageddon and Jiggedy-Jiggedy.
Sep. 13th, 2005 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matt_doyleMy old roommate Chris is a saint. (As a side note, I should point out that my current roommate is also named Chris, and while very cool, he is also evil in fun and interesting ways. I admire that. New Chris often has his friend Chris (a third one) over, and I am some day determined to get a group of my friends together- Old Chris New Chris Third Chris, Chris Blake who I have not yet mentioned, Kristi, Kristen, and Krista in one place at one time and watch chaos reign.)
Old Chris (who is actually younger than New Chris, but never mind) is a Lutheran preacher's son, an Eagle Scout, and without a doubt the nicest, most virtuous personin the universe that I know. No foolin'. He is also blonde and slender and dimpled and generally beatific-looking, to the extent that when Brian and I saw him with one of his old girlfriends (tall and blonde and thin with I-shit-you-not sparkly blue eyes), Brain turned to me and said "Two words. Angel babies."
But anyway. Old Chris is courteous, tolerant to a fault, and exceedingly generous, and so is driving me to and from my PRACS study blood draws. Since he is my favorite person to debate things with, on the way back from the latest trip to PRACS, we were talking about terrorism, and the uselessness of the Amber Alert (ETA: er, the color-coded Homeland Security Alert System, which was at Amber level that day).
"Chris," I say. "Do you know what I would do differently if I knew, absolutely knew, that within the next few days there would come a terrorist attack that would directly and personally affect my life?"
"No," he says. "What?"
"Stop worrying about alcohol and intervis violations in the dorms. That's it."
"Heh," he says, acknowledging my amusing decadence without falling prey to it himslf. "I don;t know what I'd do."
"Drink and Wench, my friend, drink and wench," I assure him. "Well. Shave and then wench. Only about thirty percent of the wenches seem appreciative of my facial hair."
We then fell to discussing the likelihood of snagging a willing partner on the fly pre-doomsday, and Chris- whose commitment to abstinence I respect and even admire- expressed some interesting theories. To which:
"Hunh," I said. "You know, I didn't ever consider exploiting the naive Lutheran nature of freshman girls at Concordia to get some in the event of the Apocalypse."
Breifly and smugly, he says "I did."
A saint, my pal Chris... an absolute saint.
Old Chris (who is actually younger than New Chris, but never mind) is a Lutheran preacher's son, an Eagle Scout, and without a doubt the nicest, most virtuous person
But anyway. Old Chris is courteous, tolerant to a fault, and exceedingly generous, and so is driving me to and from my PRACS study blood draws. Since he is my favorite person to debate things with, on the way back from the latest trip to PRACS, we were talking about terrorism, and the uselessness of the Amber Alert (ETA: er, the color-coded Homeland Security Alert System, which was at Amber level that day).
"Chris," I say. "Do you know what I would do differently if I knew, absolutely knew, that within the next few days there would come a terrorist attack that would directly and personally affect my life?"
"No," he says. "What?"
"Stop worrying about alcohol and intervis violations in the dorms. That's it."
"Heh," he says, acknowledging my amusing decadence without falling prey to it himslf. "I don;t know what I'd do."
"Drink and Wench, my friend, drink and wench," I assure him. "Well. Shave and then wench. Only about thirty percent of the wenches seem appreciative of my facial hair."
We then fell to discussing the likelihood of snagging a willing partner on the fly pre-doomsday, and Chris- whose commitment to abstinence I respect and even admire- expressed some interesting theories. To which:
"Hunh," I said. "You know, I didn't ever consider exploiting the naive Lutheran nature of freshman girls at Concordia to get some in the event of the Apocalypse."
Breifly and smugly, he says "I did."
A saint, my pal Chris... an absolute saint.
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Date: 2005-09-14 05:01 am (UTC)Angel babies. That's perfect. I know that person in female form, I think. Except she's from Singapore. Her soul is so much sparklier than mine. It's so cool.
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Date: 2005-09-14 10:13 am (UTC)What is it with Chrises? There are too many of them dagnabbit! For don't forget you also have your lil' sister's Chris to add to your list of Chris's whose presence in the world must be acknowledged. :p
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Date: 2005-09-14 08:21 pm (UTC)Either that or it's something about me...*ponders*
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Date: 2005-09-14 10:55 pm (UTC)HAHAHAHAHAHAHA and *that* is why you are on my flist. *dies*
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Date: 2005-09-14 11:08 pm (UTC)My facial hair makes me feel like a Viking. Arr.
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Date: 2005-09-14 11:19 pm (UTC)My facial hair makes me feel like a Viking. Arr.
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Date: 2005-10-14 02:49 am (UTC)Chrispriest. (I wrote "Chris" at first, I really did).There are probably more people named Chris in the Eagle Scouts than any other name.
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Date: 2005-10-14 02:50 am (UTC)My Chris is a preacher's son, majoring in psych.