Mark: Are you mad at me about something?
Marie: No. Why?
Mark: You have a funny look on your face.
Marie: I’m trying to think of something to blog about. I haven’t blogged in, like, forever. And only two things are coming to mind.
Mark: What’s that?
Marie: My views on abortion. But I don’t want my blog to become one of those unhappy places where people are discussing whether or not a fetus can scream.
Mark: Okay… well, what’s your other idea?
Marie: How I’m, like, an amazing internet stalker and figured out how to hack into the student accounts at ABC University (like heck I’m going to give the details on this one. I’m still afraid they’ll catch me and I’ll end up in jail or something. Just call me Marie: the Original Fugitive). AND remember when I used my skillz to find her* Myspace page knowing only a first name, city and hair color? I’m amazing at stalking.
Mark: Yeah. Don’t blog that. Makes you look… weird.
Marie: I thought so, too…
Mark: What were we laughing about in bed the other day? And you said, “Man, I should blog about this”?
Marie: I kinda say that about everything.
Mark: I think it was when you were telling me about your bellybutton and the ice cubes. That was funny. Blog that.
So, I have this mini-obsession with my bellybutton. Ever since I was a baby I would put myself to sleep by (I so do NOT know what verb is best to use here) “petting” my bellybutton. And to this day I will still do this if I’m having trouble sleeping.
As Mark and I lounged around in bed watching the awesomeness known as cable (we just got it, yay!) I decided to share a little more info about my bellybutton fetish.
“Sometimes during the summer I will put an ice cube in my bellybutton and let it melt. And then when there is a pool of water I count how many splashes it takes to empty it. That’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Very,” he replied.
And that’s the story. About my bellybutton. And the ice cubes.
*If you know anything about our history, you might figure out who this person is.
**Writing with someone you sleep with is probably never “Brilliant!”. Ask John Lennon.