Jamalyn (jamalyn) wrote,

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Oh, to be jealous of a story book character!

Harry Potter was released today. Trust me I know. Out of the three people that have called me, two of them only wanted to ask whether or not I had managed to get a copy.

Am I hurt?




Okay, now that that’s out of my system, maybe I can move on. Maybe.

It’s really sad. I imagine it’s rather like having been born on Christmas.

Mai always calls me at 12:01 am on my birthday. Always. I stay up because I expect the phone to ring. And last night, at 12:01, it did. And do you know what she asked me?

“Hey, the bookstore by my house is staying open to sell Harry Potter. Want to go try for a copy?”

But Mai also remembered to wish me happy birthday, brought me to Todai’s for lunch today and made me a magnet of a little girl in a pink dress with a flower (it’s supposed to be me), so she’s forgiven.

If the others will be allowed back into my life, however, is another question. ;)

The second to phone was Rebecca, who remembering that I had read the previous Harry Potter books whilst watching the brouhaha on the morning news, decided to call and ask if I was one of the crazies camping out in front of some random bookstore. She eventually noticed that I was not being especially talkative, and so asked if any thing was wrong. When I told her:

Becca: Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I forgot. If I knew, I wouldn’t have called.
Me: Huh?
Becca: About the book! I wouldn’t have called about the book!!
Me: ...
Becca: I still would have called. Honest.

Of course I believe her, if I thought she might could have remembered!

Bleck. Harry Potter. Bleck. I will get over this, eventually. Eventually, eventually, eventually.

That’s not to say that I, too, haven’t been cruel over the phone today. After lunch, I went to go get my ears pierced (being, now, 23, and not having had it re-done).

Re-done, you ask.

Yes, RE-done. You see, my mother is just a tad over the top. As in not always there. And one fine day, when I was younger, she decided that it was barbaric to punch holes through one’s body so that one could hang shiny pieces of metal from them. And so, she took away my earrings.

Since then, one of the holes had grown over and so today, I decided to get them re-pierced. And I did. But that’s not the cruel part.

The cruel part is that, immeadately upon getting home, I called her up, and in my best swollen-tongue voice said, “Thuess thwat I thot pierth?”

There was nothing on the other end but silence for more than a few moments, but then finally I hear a hesitant, “Your tongue?”

“Nope. My ears.”

:) :) :) The way I look at it, I was letting her down easy. :)

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