Reporting for Duty

#1,892 of my BHBHGGFBJ’s many quirks: she can’t wake up in the morning. Seriously, I could set up the Live at Leeds era Who in her bedroom and get them to play “My Generation” and she still wouldn’t budge; there are reports of her sleeping through Orientation Committee meetings during her reign as Head Gael, although since I wasn’t actually in Kingston at the time I don’t feel I’m in the position to comment. (Somewhere in Vancouver, Bri is sharpening knives and counting down the seconds til she sees me next…yet I digress.)

Since I’m up before 8 o’clock every day, I started acting as Bri’s unofficial morning wake-up service. Eventually, this morphed into something we call the Bri Crane. In person, it involves me resting my head against her shoulder, getting her to put her arms around my neck and them pulling her up. But since our nine month-long relationship has taken place almost exclusively over long distances, more often than not we’re left with the “virtual” Bri Crane, a service in which I call up Bri’s cell phone and then badger her to get out of bed. Eventually, it does the trick.

In person, the Bri Crane is a gentle, loving appendage. Via telephone, however, the Bri Crane is like George Carlin. A typical “virtual” Bri Crane conversation goes something like this:

Me: *dialing Bri’s number*

Bri, after at least three rings: “Hmsafduoqew.”

Me: “Hello, Heed. Wake up!”

Her: “Tdfsoiuqwljdkaf.”

Me: “Get up.”

Her: “How was your sleep?”

Me: “Get up, Heed. Call me after you’ve showered.”

As you see, I’m a sensitive type. A few weeks ago, I went all T.O. on Bri and demanded a contract in exchange for my Bri Crane-ing duties. I felt it was a reasonable request: after all, given Bri’s history, the Bri Crane would seem to have been an integral part of her ability to do her job this summer. Bri didn’t see it that way; we haggled over the terms of our arrangement for at least a month, and then last week a Bri Crane contract magically appeared in my inbox. She actually wrote up a contract! Bri might be a grad student, but the document she could produced would almost certainly hold up in a court of law; it even includes the proper legal jargon, albeit qualified by frequent uses of the word “HEED” in capital letters. I still need my legal department to review the contract and make the appropriate changes before signing it and returning it to B.C.; in the meantime, another successful “virtual” Bri Crane wake up is in the books and I’m $0.72 richer.

It should also be noted that the Bri Crane saga reached its inevitable conclusion yesterday when Bri called me well before the designated wake-up time. Evidently my Type A behaviour is starting to wear off on Bri Johnson; either that or my girlfriend is finally getting sick of a bitter, disgruntled wake-up service who’s two steps away from doing sit-ups on his driveway for a throng of onlooking reporters. Am I insane enough to do it? Only time will tell.

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