"lets play telephone!" said the olden lady and a chorus of 8 year old girls climbed their way into a circular formation on the soft carpeted floor. with a buzzed smiled she asked me to join them and i quickly joined the circle, michael giggling at me and offering me a soda pop. the two-faced cat's name is cookie, she had really amazing eyes. her name appeared in several of the whispered messages passing from "telephone" to "telephone, which included "cookie dootie" and "cookie face."

the first word i thought of (in order to relate to girls of eight years already in their post halloween pajama pants and sitting indian style) was "timberlake," y'know like that popfuckr justin. they giggled with deelight. joeys fucking hot. i whispered loud on purpose so everyone could hear me.

even the girl from russia, who didnt appear to be having the greatest time. she actually disappeared an hour after we got there, then came back in the birthday girl's mom's arms with reddened damp eyes. wipe em away. immediately the other 12 year old girl's mom brought over her daughter (who anxiously wanted to karaoke the fuck out of christina aguilera):

lady #1: "she's 12 years old too, see?"
lady #2: "you're both the same age"

i remember when my parents used to do that to me too, try and match me up with someone else exactly my age when i went somewhere with them and i didnt know any of the other kids running around. but i cant remember if i liked that, if i felt more comfortable with these kids so happy in their spicey korean kimchee infested soups, just 'cause i was 9 years old too (and slanty eyed, well kinda fuck you).

then the girl with the cute hair that reminded me of the girl from boys dont cry seemed to imagine me as some sort of climbing wall or mountainesque structure. my eyes were half closed, and the funny lady with the beehive wig and long ass silver fake eyelashes was singing "love shack" in character, when she suddenly the cute hair girl (thanks soul twin) hopped on my lap, hair all over her face. i was like whoa, i wonder what her parents would think of their 8 year old daughter hopping on some almost 20 year old college boy's lap. she must really trust me, i thought. and then, as if out of no where, my legs were magically a galloping horse.