Thursday, July 9, 2009

What are we coming to?

Mark is still my little friend. He told me yesterday that I'm too crunchy to be eaten-thank God. So now, he just follows me places and sits next to me and tells me about how all boys grow up to be soldiers and all girls grow up to be medics.
Last Friday, he called me "Garbage Can" but he was "just playing around," as he told his father when I told Mr. Sneeze.
Later that evening, I told another Mark (who is almost thirteen years older than my little friend) about being called Garbage Can. He laughed and told me that I was nothing like a garbage can because I'm not "big or green or smelly." And apparently, garbage cans are not beautiful.
Another guy friend (who is 22) commented that he missed the days when you could express your interest in girls by calling them names and abusing them. However, he admitted that as he got older, he realized that the girls don't really like being hit or bitten or insulted.
I think the little guy is cute and funny-but I wouldn't appreciate it if a 22-year-old bit me or hit me or insulted me. At some point, it stops being cute.

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