Let me tell you about Heather

March 20, 2001

I feel compelled to tell you a little bit about My Local Heather, just to give you an appreciation of who she is and what she's about, since I mention her quite a bit all over the place.

Heather is My Only Chick Friend in Seattle. She likes that.

Heather shares my phobia of having pictures taken, but I have a few, snuck to me by her boyfriend. She will likely disembowel me when she sees this, but I chose one I thought was good. She will still, however, kill me. (Ah yes, now that she's seen the photo, which I know by the screech I just heard, I fully expect her at my side with some kind of weapon, perhaps a 50's-esque ice pick, within seconds.)

Heather has, most of the time, dark red hair, which seems to suit her better than her natural brown. She has a few body piercings, her hair is short and has little spit curls, and she has very pretty blue eyes. And a great smile. She is articulate and intelligent. She revels in reuben sandwiches. She is an Anglophile yearning to return to England, and she used to smoke unfiltered cigarettes (tres European,) but in recent months has switched to filtered to prepare her to think about quitting. She is very funny. She is similarly-shaped to me, and has many of the same Issues with that. She also has similarly-sized Wamdigous Ta-tas.

And, she is evil.

Heather's from Texas - and you have to understand, Things Are Different In Texas. Today, without realizing until it was too late....I'm so ashamed to admit this...I ordered some "herb and garlic" chicken. It wasn't until the clerk looked at me funny that I realized that I had pronounced the "h" in "herb." Linguistically, Heather is a terrible influence. Elsewhere, I have bemoaned the fact that I now put "the" in front of most nouns without realizing it. You know..."Oh, yes, I love the football," for instance. I have to consciously not write it even as I type. She is also making me....girlier. It's not her fault, it's just that I'm impressionable.

Heather likes kitsch. Her apartment is bedecked with much Jesus paraphenalia, and has been described as "Post-Undergraduate." She does (the) ceramics and (the) glass-blowing, and is very artsy. Her current desktop wallpaper is "They're happy because they eat LARD!" She gets away with wearing stripes (and wears no socks but striped socks,) and has very good fashion sense, whereas I do not. She would be perfectly content to live here (no, I'm not kidding:)

She drinks celery-flavored pop, and, God help me, it suits her. How bizarre is that? To have a soda suit you? The damndest things suit Heather - orange and green sweaters, big clunky blue shoes, a lunchbox purse that says "The Enemy is Syphilis!!" on one side, and on the other, "WHOM HAVE YOU EXPOSED TO SYPHILIS?!?!?" in large print (click here for the full-sized version of the graphic.) But ok, alright, moving on. She is perky, and sassy, and every bit as neurotic as I am, which lets us bond a a level wholly unappreciated and not understood by most people.

When she and I are seen together around the building by our co-workers, the general sentiment is "uh-oh, there's trouble," or "what are you two up to," or as one very sweet man says, it's "The Zone." When we're outside to let her smoke, we tend to attract people, which is fine most of the time, but when we're in the middle of a highly private conversation about men or relationships or porn, it can be inconvenient. This popularity with our (largely male) co-workers initially caused us some friction when I first started here. She sensed me getting attention from The Men That Were Hers, and I perceived her as a threat to that attention to which I have become accustomed. Gradually, we relaxed a bit, and then one afternoon I was walking out of the Safeway (much like a Kroger's to you Michigan folks) and she was right there, testing a new car (which she then bought.) "Want to test drive this with me?" she asked. "Ok." I hopped in, we bonded, and that was that. At one point, I was completely paranoid that she would try to steal Lance away from me, and might succeed. I told her this, and we both laughed, but I still worried. Over time, as we've discovered our similarities, we've gotten increasingly closer, and I love her dearly. I don't even begrudge her The Man Attention.

We hate many of the same things - the way Americans are socialized, uncommunicative men, chipping a nail...maybe that last one shouldn't count. At any rate, we have similar senses of humor and perversion, and we can talk trash all day long if given the chance. ("Talking trash," incidentally, is not something I would have ever confessed to, let alone thought to say, until I started hanging around with Heather. It just sounds too....trashy. But we gossip. We can't help it.) We both love and adore Angelina Jolie. We have more fun than we really should. Fortunately, Heather is the documentation focal for my team's area of expertise, so she and I are often required to attend meetings together. This is much more fun than attending meetings not together, although there might be times when people feel a bit uncomfortable at how comfortable we are with each other. If this new job goes through, I'll be sitting in the same room as she, which will be fabulous.

We bitch and moan about our weight, and then we go pig out on fajitas and/or chocolate somethings. We adore the Keg's French onion soup, but only on the days when it's "right." She owns a cell phone, and always leaves it on, but never carries it with her. She lives in an apartment approximately the size of a briefcase, but again...it suits her. We know each other's dark secrets. We have gone through similar phases of life, usually one of us more to an extreme than the other. We give each other excellent relationship and life advice which we are then generally incapable of applying to our own relationships and lives. It helps to have someone to vent to who truly understands, or who at the very least can grok the basic concepts. It also prevents other people from finding out how truly neurotic we are. I find myself making Heather Faces when I am vexed or annoyed, but this hasn't fully kicked in yet. Heather drives a convertable, and shares my propensity to have gay male friends. Perhaps those two items are related...

She keeps me in line, and vice versa. Sorta. Then we help each other get out of line, cut in line, and make new lines. We send each other flowers and Haagen Daaz when one of us is sick. There is a song by Modest Mouse that will always, always be The Heather Song.

We know each other very well. I asked her what her favorite color was: "Dark Blue." I then went to a hex color page to pick out the color of the background for this page. I picked one, and then asked her to go pick her favorite dark blue off of the same page - turns out I guessed right. :-) The other color she picked was this one which is considerably harder to make attractive, unfortunately. ("But it matches the CEL-RAAAAAAAY," says she, and so it does.) She painted a large bowl for me for Christmas in Class Heather Colors and Patterns, the very colors appearing all over this page, actually, and although she hates it, I love it because it is So Her.

I suspect I'll add more to this page as I think of it, but for now, I must run.

Other Heather Links:

Heather Ham Haiku
Heather & Airyn's Line of Fabulous Nail Polish Colours

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