The other night, Emily came over, and I decided to show her some of Lady Gaga's epic music videos. When I asked if she'd heard of Alexander Skarsgard, she was blank.
Travesty! Confession time: I tried to watch True Blood because of him (but the unnecessary nudity put me off...even I have limits, strange though that may seem). Instead of watching the whole episode, I hunted for clips of him on YouTube after each episode. This might seem extreme until I reveal to you that each of his molecules are bonded together with sexy.
Anyway, that reminded me of last November, when I was visiting Fatick. I was a little nervous about reuniting with Liz, because what if our joint mind thing only worked when we were roommates, and now that she had two new ones of those, she didn't need me? Wanting to spend as much time with her as possible, I volunteered to help her carry the garbage can full of hospital waste across the courtyards to the burn pile.
As we avoided the dead beetle, I told her about my habit of giving the weight of prophecy to men who tell me predictions about my future. She sympathized, and told me that he dad had once said she would marry a Swedish man. She told me "I would to okay with that, especially..."
"Because Alexander Skarsgard is Swedish!"
"Yes, exactly! You know who he is!?"
Yes, Liz, I did. And with that, I didn't worry about our brain connection any longer.
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