Future Roommate. That is what I shall call her until it actually happens. (because there's a good chance i'll scare her off before then.)

Sometimes I lie in bed at night, and it's late and my brain is just moving at a mile a minute and nothing can make it stop short of a bullet or writing whatever it is running around in there down on some paper.

Which is why you will always find a pen/pad near my bed at all times.

(and you will find me quite perturbed if someone moves it. mom.)

Last night was a night like any other, but instead of having sultry romance novels fly through my brain (I swear I'd make Big $ if I'd just learn how to daydream AND type at the same time) I was thinking about school and the Big Move and my new super cool Future Roommate.

(i figure she's got to be introduced sometime, so why not at 2am and with a cat trying to compete with the pen for my attention?)

I guess it's as official as official can be without a contract in blood secret handshake pinky swear.

Her name is Robin and I'm pretty sure she is my soul mate my twin taken at birth normal. She had me at Frou Frou.

(those of you who don't get that reference, don't worry. that is why you are not my roommate.)

Anyhow, Robin and I have been chatting back and forth via FaceBook for about a week now. I've learned some very important things about her that include but are not limited to:

1. She lives in Illinois. Which I've been told is a very cool place (Yay Karen and Mark! More reasons for me to visit!). And they also wear knitted stuff there, so that's awesome.

2. She majored in journalism before deciding to jump ship for whore island a career that leaves you covered in shit vet school in the Caribbean.

3. She likes to swear. Which is pretty much awesome because I like to swear. A lot.

I can just see us now, two hot chicks kickin it on SMB (that's SEVEN MILE BEACH bitches!) on a Sunday afternoon sounding like a couple of Turrets victims because there is no alcohol.

What?! What was that?

Um, yeah. Seems for all it's awesomeness (did you get that memo about a SEVEN MILE BEACH?! it's in your TPS report.) this island basically shuts down at midnight Saturday and all day Sunday.

Boo.

Okay, back to my FR. Despite how stoked I am at the thought that at least one person will (hopefully) laugh at my jokes, I can't help but be trepidacious about this union. I mean, we did meet on FaceBook. It's like the eHarmony for schoolmates. For all intents and purposes, we're internet daters. And we all know how that works out. One of us is a pervy old man and the other a prepubescent child.

I mean, for all I know (and despite all appearances) this girl could end up being totally......normal.

That would kinda suck.

But something tells me this is gonna work out.

(and by the way, this entire post was written on a napkin at my bedside with a fairly annoying cat bumping my writing arm. you are allowed to show your envy, MacGyver.)