This is Deno. And me. Deno is the pretty one.
Somehow, regardless of the fact that we rarely get to talk and I haven't seen him since we disembarked in Miami in December of 2004, Deno remains one of the few people I consider an intimate friend.
Not only do I suspect that he knows me better than I do, he is one of those rare people who actually makes me want to be smarter, wittier and generally better. And not in the annoying way either.
This year for Christmas I thought I had gotten Deno the perfect present. (Which I will tell you about ONLY after it has arrived.) Apparently I failed epically, not realizing that I didn't even know what the perfect present was until it showed up in my door step.
Early yesterday afternoon I got an excited text from my neighbor/accomplice Beth informing me that I had gotten a package. Oh my god, mail! (Mail being the best of all presents when you're a lonely, spinster cat woman.) I asked who from, and she said "I don't know, someone in Massachusetts." But, I don't know anyone in Massachusetts (has any one ever looked at how you spell Massachusetts? It's ridiculous, I had to look it up!) I was very, very confused.
27 hours later, when I finally made it home, after swimming through the haze of marijuana smoke leaking out my downstairs neighbors door, I finally made it to my package. Lacking any form of scissors or clean cutlery I stabbed it with a pen until I managed to peal back the layers of cardboard to find:
A hand made, fair trade, croched ROBOT!
And underneath of that:
A verification that my car is awesome!
This is Deno. He likes daydreaming about the apocalypse, stalking Joey Comeau, taking pictures of abandoned things, flannel bathrobes, dire Russian humor and me.
Oh, you wanted to know more about my robot?
This should fill you in:
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