MikeWJ: Write about something serious and personal.
Ziva: I hate serious and personal.
MikeWJ: Okay, so write about something not serious and not personal.
Ziva: Like what?
MikeWJ: Write about the time you fell in love.
And so, I did.
It was a beautiful spring day. It could also have been fall, or winter, or even summer, I can’t really remember, but it’s not important to the story anyway, so just go with it.
It was a beautiful spring/fall/winter/summer day. Of course, since I can’t even remember what time of year it was, I can’t really say for sure that it was a beautiful day. It could very well have been raining small popular mammals or snowing or even just been overcast and dull. Finnish weather isn’t very predictable and I can’t really be expected to remember what the weather was like that beautiful spring day. Let’s just get on with the story.
Small popular mammal.
It was a beautiful/rainy/overcast/gray/snowy spring/fall/winter/summer day. Come to think of it, it probably wasn’t even day, what with the time zones and all. It was probably in the middle of the night and I should have been in bed hours ago and I probably had to work the next day and I probably spent all day at work yawning like the proverbial sloth that ran the marathon. What was that? That’s not a common saying? Well it should be. Anyway, what I was saying is that I was probably very tired, and spent all of the next day yawning, and then I probably took a nap after work, which shifted my internal clock forward to make me more internet-adapted, but at the same time making me less work-adapted and less Finland-adapted, which eventually resulted in the permanent black circles I have under my eyes now as a result of living on four hours of sleep every night.
Back to the story.
It was a beautiful/rainy/overcast/gray/snowy spring/fall/winter/summer day/night/evening/morning. You know, it probably didn’t even happen in one day or night at all. Now that I think about it, it happened over time, slowly but surely, like the sun slowly growing and expanding until it eventually kills everything on this planet in a raging inferno of fire and brimstone, souls screaming in agony and babies crying for their mommy, but less gruesome and more sweet.
I think it’s best if we just start over completely, don’t you think?
The first time she commented on my blog, I thought she was a man. She spelled her name weirdly, like a man, and she grabbed her balls a lot, too. Or so I thought, but as it turned out, she didn’t have any balls so I guess she mostly just grabbed her man’s balls. Or maybe she didn’t grab any balls at all and that’s something I made up just now. I really don’t know, I’m writing this at work and I think my brain is still asleep because I stayed up too late reading her blog again.
Magic 8-ball, shown here with small popular mammal. Not relevant to the story.
I’m really not doing the story justice.
I have a crush on Nicky, okay??
And she wrote me a poem in her sleep, so I’m pretty sure she likes me, too. *
Everyone has a crush on Nicky, Ziva. But everyone has dark fantasies about Ziva. Your names are like linked forever together in my mind. "Ziva and Nicky", "Nicky and Ziva". I can see those words in flaming marquis glory!
ReplyDeleteI was giggling through this whole post Ziva, you're funny. And I bet Nicky is happy that you have shouted your crush from the rooftops of Finlandia.
ReplyDeleteI still remember that beautiful/rainy/overcast/gray/snowy spring/fall/winter/summer day/night/evening/morning/ like it was yesterday. Or the day before. But no more than a week ago. A month, tops. The Internet was crowded, but I spotted you across the busy, noisy blogosphere. Your face was glowing from the light of your computer monitor. I think I fell for you when I realized the greenish tint of your skin had nothing to do with the radiation emanating from your computer. You stole my heart with your intelligence, your humour, your beauty and your continuous references to your sexual promiscuity and penchant for handcuffs. How blessed was I that you looked past my manly names and constant ball-scratching (btw, that's all cleared up now) to see the real, unstable, would-be-your-stalker-if-you-didn't-live-billions-of-light-years-away, middle-aged dumpy woman inside.
ReplyDeleteI love you too, Lemmikki. <3
If this leads to the release of a high-def videotape of the pillow fight between you and Nicky, I'm going to be the happiest man in the world.
ReplyDeleteNow I'm feeling oddly intrigued by these dark fantasies you speak of...
ReplyDeleteI sure hope she is! Otherwise I'll be very embarrassed.
ReplyDeleteOh darling Nicky. Darling, sweet, Nicky. Never have I been more pleased with my green skin and my continuous references to my sexual promiscuity and penchant for
ReplyDeletehandcuffs. I heart you, my beautiful, smart, non-ball-scratching cheese-lover/stalker!
You'll have to pay for that video, just like everybody else, you know. Also, it'll probably be released only on DVD. Welcome to the 21th century.
ReplyDeleteHA HA! I thought Nicky was a man too! LOL!
ReplyDeleteYou know what I think the BEST part of this post is? "Small Popular Mammal." You are HYSTERICAL!
That small popular mammal is adorable. I'm in love with it.
ReplyDeleteDo you want it? It has fangs.
ReplyDeleteOh good, I'm not the only one who made that mistake! I didn't realize she was a woman until like, yesterday. So embarrassing.
ReplyDeleteThank you! Don't you just love those small popular mammals?
Me, too. Also the bright fantasies. I'm not that picky when it comes to fantasies.
ReplyDeleteThis is the sweetest love story I've ever read. Tears are dripping out of my eyes as I write. Probably because I'm in Texas and it's 107 degrees Fahrenheit outside -- I'm not kidding -- but also because you've touched my heart, Ziva. Or maybe that's me touching my heart. Or maybe that's not my heart after all, because it feels much better than I would expect my heart to feel, and it seems like it's in the wrong place to be a heart.
ReplyDeleteBut I digress.
I hope you'll consider turning this story into a made-for-tv movie, or some kind of Swedish movie. Yes, my heart, or whatever that is that's been so touched by this story, is telling me it should be a Swedish film, even though you're Finnish and Nicky's Canadian. I'm not good with titles, you're not either, apparently, but I like "grabbing Nicky's Balls." That will give the movie a surprising plot twist when you slap the cuffs on Nicky's wrists -- or ankles, what the heck -- and go to work.
Mike, please stop touching your "heart" while reading my posts.
ReplyDeleteAwwwwww!! You and Nicky sure do make a lovely couple! xoxo
ReplyDeleteNow I know why you didn't show up in Rigaud, Nicky. I drank all the champagne and had to amuse myself. I hope you two are very, very happy...not.
ReplyDeleteI think I'm gonna be sick.
ReplyDeleteHow about "Nicky and Ziva Finnish Montreal"?
ReplyDeleteWow, that's an ardently amorous/deeply felt/somewhat salivating/mildly affectionate/meh story, Ziva. I hope you and Nicky will be very happy. Personally, I don't think long-distance romances are meant to last. But, hey, if you're both happy go after your dream.
ReplyDeleteOh Dufus, you're just jealous because Nicky chose me. You shouldn't feel bad, though, very few people can compete with a three-armed Finn with hair like mine. I'm sure MikeWJ will be more than happy to step in for Nicky and join you in Rigaud, though. Have fun!
ReplyDeleteI love long-distance romances. I have them all the time. In fact, I just sent M to England for a week just so we could do the long-distance thing for a while.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Meleah! We do try. Nicky is the pretty one and I'm the weird three-armed girl with green skin and a strange accent.
ReplyDeleteYou're not very good with the romance stuff, are you?
ReplyDeleteI highly doubt that!
ReplyDeleteWhat? Oh sure I am. I was just gonna be sick. I'm better now.
ReplyDeleteMikeWJ and I already have a bromance goin'. We were separated at birth I think. Which was a good thing. I don't think our mother would have put up with the two of us.
ReplyDeleteOh, of course. My mistake.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I think you're absolutely right.
ReplyDeleteNo wonder so many Finns chose to live here when they came to America: Your weather sounds EXACTLY like what we have.
ReplyDeleteA great love story--as this is--doesn't need illustrations*, but I'm always glad to see pics of the small popular mammal.
*The Kama Sutra, I believe, is more of a 'how-to' and less of a 'love story,' correct?
The small popular mammal isn't that small...it's more like big-ish..
ReplyDeleteI noticed that the magic 8-ball is bigger in my hands than it is in the big-ish popular mammals claws...
ReplyDeleteYes, of course. Immediately.
ReplyDeleteI know you're skinny and all, but if your hands were paw-sized, I would start to get really worried.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, the Kama Sutra is definitely more of a how-to. In fact, I think my copy is actually called "The Kama Sutra - how to shag your way into a wheelchair, one position at a time."
ReplyDeleteDude, it's almost like I was there.
ReplyDeleteUm, Ziva, baby? I know it must seem damn near impossible to write something else after such a meaningul and profoundly heartwarming post about how much we love each other, but you do realize it's been a MONTH since you wrote this?!?! WTF? If you're not going to write, the least you could do is Skype a girl from time to time.
ReplyDeleteI love you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, I've been told I'm a very good story-teller. Well, maybe "good" wasn't the word they used..
ReplyDeleteDude, it's almost like I was there.
ReplyDelete