I think I am slowly but surely nudging my relationship with Shu toward the sort of relationship I have with Butter. Which is, in my opinion, a good thing. You see, with Butter I can say just about anything, no matter how stupid. Actually, the whole point of communicating with Butter is to say something ridiculous and stupid, because at best he’ll come up with something good in return and at worst he’ll be bemused (and perhaps amused). He’s heard it all from me, so odds are that: a) he’s heard something weirder and b) he can’t tell whether I’m lying or exaggerating for comedic effect, anyway.
I can do this because I know it doesn’t matter what he thinks. No, that’s wrong. Whatever I say won’t change what he thinks of me. And that brings us back to Shu, because I can’t think of any people other than Shu or Butter to whom I could give a synopsis of the newest three Doctor Who episodes which contains, “…so she didn’t want to kill him so time broke and London got all steampunky and Winston Churchill was called Caesar.” The look of pure confusion on Shu’s face was priceless. And see, that’s the thing. With her I don’t have to pretend that I disapprove of the zaniness, or whatever.
I can enhance the zaniness. And I do. Last winter break I got into Stargate: Atlantis. Butter got subjected to every fourth episode or so by virtue of living in the same house. This meant he missed stuff, though, so I’d have to catch him up. I started helping him walk the dogs, just so I could spend the whole time summarizing what he’d missed in the dumbest way possible. Clarity was not the object, here. Neither were coherence or compactness. Or accuracy, even. I’d manage to hit the highlights, usually, but the real purpose of the exercise was to have something to giggle over.
Also, I think Butter gets a kick out of disparaging my intelligence. Who’m I kidding? I know he gets a kick out of it. So I can tell him that “Ford got hooked on Wraith juice, and then kidnapped everyone on his team and got them hooked ‘cause apparently junkies love company” and he’ll say, “Sister. Wraith juice?” and I’ll nod knowingly and say something about ponytail dude being caught trying to smoke Wraith fingernails and he’ll retort that he’s pretty sure that didn’t actually happen and I’d tell him to prove it.
And then he’ll tell me to prove it, because when we’re together our argument technique degenerates into “Your face”, “No your face, and forgets you”, “I forgets you first” (i.e. elementary school level).
Shu and I aren’t there yet. Not sure if we ever will be; she doesn’t seem too big on insulting me for recreational purposes. We’ll just have to see.