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13 February 2006 @ 07:50 pm
 
So I guess I'll only really post here when Harris threatens me with death if I don't. Or cuts me off. He knows I'm not great at talking about stuff. So this should tell you how important Harris is to me. At Harris's request, a little background about the last six months or there abouts.

This pretty much starts after a day of shooting porn out in the valley. Some sweet looking girls doing their thing solo and me doing sound and generally being helpful. Harris's Bitch. I remember him laughing a lot that day, something he hadn't been doing in a long time and it was real good to hear it again. The day ended great and we just shot the shit and made general hilarity till we hit the freeway and I made the mistake of asking if S was in town and he said no but E was. I thought he was joking around but he pulled out his damn phone and called him on the spot.

And that is how I found myself at Boardner's having drinks with Harris and E. I'd seen him in a few films, mostly the one with S and the Artist in and had made the odd comment but, damn, I never really thought I'd be sitting on a barstool next to him, just drinkin and hanging out. He was remarkably easy to be with. Laughed a lot and made funny jokes. But I couldn't take my eyes off his ribbon-candy mouth and all the naked temptation it represented.

Looking back, I can see that that particular instant was the last point at which I could've turned away, said no or just let the opportunity pass. Because by the end of that evening, I was a goner. Harris, the fucking bastard, smirked the whole damn time. Prick.

During the course of the evening, I'd find myself looking without talking and E would laugh and pat my knee or punch me in the arm like the kid he was. Turns out, he managed to short circuit all my carefully cultivated skills of seduction cause when I went to drop him off, instead of getting out, I got a lap full of sweet wiggling boy and intimate knowledge his wicked nasty mouth.

And that was all she wrote. The fat lady sang. The buck stopped right in my lap. I had met my Waterloo and lay slain on his bed for the better part of the rest of the week.

On day ten, I remembered to call Harris from Cancun. I got an earful but I didn't care. I'd like to say I'd found something I never knew I wanted.

But I think it found me. He found me. Damnit, Harris, you know I hate this stuff.

So, yeah.
 
 
 
stunt_dickstunt_dick on February 15th, 2006 01:57 am (UTC)
I know you hate it - but I never knew I had stopped laughing.. see what hanging out with you does to me?

Now I know why you were so quiet that night - and now I know even more - I know you hate me for it, but you love to hate me.

Poor you, how dare you have 'feelings'.

Will you call him already?
lowendtweaklowendtweak on February 20th, 2006 12:30 am (UTC)
Okay, so yeah, I called him. It was good. He's good. But you know that.
I'm doing sound at Numbers later. Meet me?