The Husband-Type Man: self-explanatory. At the risk
of gushing, simply the most intelligent, dynamic, fun, loving,
sweet, goofy person I’ve ever known. I think he’s keen. He's also the only person I know who can outlast me in a bookstore. (Geeks r hott!)
Mom and Gramma: when I say "my parents"
these are the two to whom I refer. They still live in the
same little house in San Diego where I resided off and on
myself. Don’t let their sweet exteriors fool you… I mean,
where else would I’ve gotten my weirdness from?
Sugarbear: my brother, three years younger. A pot-smokin’,
car-fixin’, drum-playin’, bird- and snake-raisin’ Christian.
Sugie just moved from Seattle to Boston to go to the Berklee School, and kinda looks like his idol Jesus Christ. He’s aggravating as hell, and even more opinionated
than me, if such a thing is possible... but he's one of the
funniest people I know.
Number One: as in Star Trek, TNG. He's my oldest
friend in the world, and he was my Best Man when me and THTM
got hitched. Number One woos chicks by speaking French and
doing the Lindy Hop. It's hard to believe we've know each
other since before we got our driver's licenses! Damn, we's
O Nancy My Nancy: my old bookstore cronie. Truly a
Very Important person. She’s the only person who can call me
"Darnell." She’s also the only person from whom
I’ll take a movie recommendation 100% seriously.
The Chix: a.k.a. my Psycho Durannie Friends!. Let the
estrogen flow, Goddess Women! I don't know what I'd do without
'em. And The Chix are the only ones who can get away with
calling me "Dawnie."
Birmie: A Chix, short for Birmingham. Birm's weird in many ways, but I think her obsessive love for Kevin Richardson pushed her over the edge. She thinks she's clever by sending me pictures of Simon with Squicky Kevy Monobrows glued over his own. But I'll get even with her... oh yes!
Kel: Another Durannie. I’d still be friends
with her even if she wasn’t, though, because she cracks my
shit up and is one of the most genuinely kind people in the world! 'Sides, who else would willingly do Boy Band Dances in the
car with me? She's a little lamb!
Goddess Caroline: A Chix. Caro’s a Nick Fan, but I
like her anyway. She’s also a fellow lit major, and a BRILLIANT
woman, but she’s misguided enough to think that the Romantics
are where it’s at, when I know it’s the Modernists that kick
ass. Byron used hair curlers and fucked his sister, honey!
Cyndi: A Chix. Cyn personifies the positive side
of loyal fandom. Not only is she super-smart and a just-plain
amazing person, she's one of the few people who've been able
to parlay Duranieism into something viable.
Milla: A Chix. Milla is awesome. You send her an e-mail
saying "Damn, I have PMS," and three minutes later,
she's written a whole parody song to the tune of "867-5309" about it. Hand her a piece of paper, and in under five minutes,
she's done caricature sketches of The Durans as South Park
characters. She's the one who needs her own website,
dammit! (Hey! She finally took
Parlance: Yes, another Psycho Durannie Friend! Par makes me laugh until I want to pee myself... and not just because of her misguided crushes on The Retarded Puppy (aka "Power Bottom") and... Bean. Tag yer man! Tag yer man!
Bobby the Slacker Hacker: My web designer. Refuses to update/publish
ANYTHING here on time, JUST OUT OF SPITE! Every day is a "me" day in Bobby's world.
My Boyfriend/My Ex-Boyfriend/My Hootchie-Bitch: Simon
LeBon, lead singer of Duran Duran. A consistent crush of over
half my lifetime just doesn’t go away, guys. But that doesn’t
mean I’m not aware of His many flaws. Trust me. (And yes,
The Husband-Type Man knows I call Him "My Boyfriend."
Heck, THTM calls Him "My Boyfriend"!)
My New Boyfriend: Terry Bozzio. I fell head over tootsies
for him at the Missing
Persons concert. (And yes, THTM knows I call him "my
Mouse: The Bunny! Our much-loved 12-year-old baby
cat who died in May ’99, after a year of heart trouble. I
force myself to remember his many Doltish Exploits so I laugh
instead of crying because I miss him so much.
The Kidlet/my niecelette: technically not my niece,
but my cousin’s daughter, Skyler is the Only Decent Child
on the Face of the Earth. I just plain enjoy her as a person.
Plus we both love Barbies and Boybands.
My Dumb Dad: Old. Sicilian. Chauvinistic. Pretty much
a non-entity in my life. But about once a year, he manages
to stir up shit. Don’t expect no Michael Landon stuff here.
Blevins: technically, he's Stepfather Number Two.
Mom met him at a country bar. That should tell you something.
When he was thinking he was all super-cool and professional
and introduced himself to someone, he'd say his name, Bill
Evans, like it was all one word. His first name came out like
it had no vowels. Hence, Blevins, or Bl. Bl is also responsible
for the Culinary Magnum Opus that me and Sugarbear
call a "BillBQ".... Just don't get too close to
the steak with those matches, yo!
The h.s.b.f /DumbAss.: my high school boyfriend. I
spent seven years of my life with this shallow, selfish and
unintellectual boy, all because my friends told me we were
The Perfect Couple and I looooooved him soooooo much! Then
I grew up.
The Sycophant: my so-called best friend who, among
other things, made sexual advances to no less than five of
my male relatives/friends before moving on. She is now Mrs.
DumbAss. Thank You, God….
Boy Wonder: There are Exes and there are Whys. Boy
Wonder, a co-worker four years younger than I, was my indoctrination
into the Wild World of Dating Disasters… all
in less than a month, too!
|:BACK TO FAQ: