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The most expensive damn cup of coffee in the history of the beverage.
    It was midnight, December first when I arrived at the airport to pick up Adam. Yeah, let’s review that. He’s coming for a CUP OF COFFEE, we’ve never acknowledged that there’s this little matter of WHERE HE’S GOING TO SLEEP and his flight gets in at MIDNIGHT. So there I was, waiting for my totally platonic friend from London to drop in for a nice cup of coffee. The nerves were killing me.
    Of course, Adam got held up in customs. It seems his insane-hyena-on-ecstasy grin caught the eye of the officers who probably thought he was high or crazy or both. They pulled him aside and started grilling him as to the nature of his trip, in response to which he told them our entire love story thus far. Adam must have successfullyappealed to their romantic sensibilities, since those customs officials did eventually send him out to the airport lounge where I was waiting for him.
    Adam says, “I had never been so hyped-up with anxiety in my life, charging through the airport, getting though customs. But then I came through those doors, and the moment I first saw you, I knew that I was in love with you, had never stopped loving you, and that I wanted to spend my life with you.”
    I, on the other hand, couldn’t look at him. Literally. Even though I had been staring at his face in 2–D for hours every night, there was something so significant, so momentous, so goddamn BIG about seeing him for the first time after all those years, I just couldn’t do it. We stood there toe-to-toe, my eyes on the linoleum, for twenty minutes. And the longer I waited to look up, the BIGGER it became, until we had passed beyond the realm of the dramatic, into the territory of the utterly absurd.
    Finally, just to put myself out of my misery, I lifted my chin and flicked my eyes to his, andthen as quickly as possible buried them again against his chest in a smothering hug. It was a lot easier driving, when I had an excuse to only glance at him for fleeting moments. By the time we arrived in my neighborhood, I could almost look him full in the face.
    Six weeks later, we were engaged.
    When are you gonna learn:
    when transporting giraffes, shouting “duck” every time you hit a bridge doesn’t work!

    Elephant trunks should be used for elephant things only. Nothing else.
    Mmmm, I do like your shampoo.
Smells like llama spit. Is it llama spit?
Smells like llama spit.
    Listen up, people.
Sasquatch has been in my sock drawer again, and now he’s somewhere lose in the bathroom.
So I’m setting up a six-foot perimeter fence, and someone bring me my clippers.
He’s mine this time.
    Hey, I know you, but I don’t like your face.
Take it off … That’s much better, much better.
    You can’t do that to a jellyfish. I’m calling the authorities. You dirty jelly molester.
    I’m just a chubby ninja.
Able to move between skinny people.
    Tiptoeing elephant. No one can see me.
And then I attack! With ice cream and jelly, with chocolate sprinkles on top.
Mmmmm.
    How do blind people know they’re done wiping? How?
    I’ve got to get me two or more of those little fellas if I’m going to be able to make goblin soup. Mmm-hmm. It’s so true.
    If that shark thinks it’s coming to bed for a cuddle, it’s got another think coming.
God, it’s all me me me with that fucker.
    Drilling … drilling … keep on drilling … drill … Oops! Fuck me.
    Now this little piggy went to market.
And this little piggy had roast beef.
No, this little piggy had none.
Because this little piggy was vegan.
He doesn’t eat roast beef. He’s weak.
He’s easy catching.
    Has everybody got their gerbils? Alright?
Good. Okay, commence shaving!
    What the fuck’s wrong with your face?! Christ on a bike, next time you’re smiling, warn me.
    As incredible as me.
As spectacular as me.
As awesome as me.
Oh, the similes are just so limiting. Really.
    Oh, this is a one-man job. A very big man with six