i like my hostage situations with cranberries.

David and I are skyping.

(David makes shushing noises and waves his hand around)
David: That's supposed to be an explosion. I'm not making bread.

I hadn't even thought that it might look like bread making until he said that, for the record. Although he was sort of right.

Me: My legitness...
David: That sounds like a rash.
Me: It kind of was like a rash that time.
David: That should be an Alanis Morissette song. You're like a rash! Itch it!

Mariam gave a really great presentation on male discrimination today in joke-class (otherwise known as Theory of Knowledge). There's this youtube clip of an abc news report on the topic- They got two actors to stage a woman beating up a man in a park. Interestingly, people either had no opinion or thought it was awesome (whereas, had the genders been switched, the police would have been called within minutes).
The point of this ramble is that I think Alanis Morissette would be one of those people thinking it was awesome.

David: I'm very vindictive by the way. Never betray me.
Me: I'll remember that.

He's in North Carolina for thanksgiving break, and his room there doesn't give him much privacy. Which means when we want to talk about things that he doesn't want his parents to know about, such as my love life and college madness and parents being annoying, he has to go into his bathroom.

David: I hope my mom doesn't hear me say this, but [story about his mom flipping out about college (whose mom hasn't done this?)]
Me: Imagine... she comes up the stairs and hears your voice... talking about her... in your bathroom... alone... (I break into giggles)
David: Yeah, It would look pretty sketchy. I promise I'm wearing pants right now.

I knew he was. But it's good to have the point reinforced.

David: You know that song "Second Chance" by Shine Down?
Me: Yeah! That song penetrated my core.
David: I really didn't need that much information.

The song, of course, is that one that goes "Sometimes goodbye is a second chance", which happened to come out right at the time when I was saying goodbye to just about everyone. So naturally, it struck a chord.

David: So do you find [redacted] attractive?
Me: I did. In second grade. See, he used to call me an alien, and I took this to be a compliment slash declaration of love.
David: Oh Clara...
Me: No, but I was right.
David: So what you're saying is, next time I like a girl I should call her an alien?
Me: Yes... if she's seven.

We just spent several minutes trying to figure out what the word is when you trade something with someone so that they know you'll give back the first thing. That sentence didn't make any sense, so let me provide an example.
You are going ice skating. The ice skating rink people give you ice skates and take your driver's license. And then you can't run off with the ice skates, because they have your driver's license. See?
The word we were looking for was 'collateral'. It took us a while though.

David: It begins with a C. Like, corollary. or Confucius. Confucius's corollary.
Me: C... CRansom?
David: It's the thing that keeps you from running off with the ice skates!

CRansom, in retrospect, sounds like a hostage situation mixed with cranberries.

Love always,
Clara