Tuesday, May 25, 2004

I was sitting with my mom last weekend, enjoying a quiet afternoon of reading when she piped up to say,

Mom: "You know who it would be great for Malia [one of my sisters, recording industry executive in LA] to go out with? That...Virgil? Viggin...V...."

me, breaking in: "VIGGO MORTENSEN?!??!! NO! No no no no no! He? Is MINE. No way I have loved him forever He would never go for someone like her trust me He only lives in LA because his son is there but he hates it If anyone goes out with him it will be me No No No No No No." [this last is a verbatim transcription, FYI, and I said it without taking a breath]

My mom giggled at me, attempting to pass her reaction off as one of amusement but really I think it was the slightly afraid cover-up laugh of one made uneasy by the vehemence of others. She didn't know she had stumbled into my wheelhouse of Viggo Lerv. But really. Viggo. Malia? NO WAY. And by that I mean, over my de'ed body.


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