You Trained These Lips When They Were Champs

I open up iTunes on Shaant's computer after shutting down the webcam, and double click on "Sorrow" to listen to it again. I log into my MySpace and post a blog.

This is abnormal, especially for me. I don't do this, the whole liking-people thing. It's just not my scene. Every girl who's ever wanted me since high school only likes me for CIWWAF, and every girl I've liked since then is... well, I can't lie- underage.

But what is it about this girl?

Why is she all of a sudden... why do I feel like she could be my everything someday?

I got a billion questions milling through m brain and no answers. The closest thing I have to an answer is, "What the fuck?"

Yeah, that's what this girl makes me think. Just, "What the fuck?"

But for the record, I'm not falling in love... But it's one of those unfinished sentences that could be topped off with, "with her," "yet," or "maybe." I have no idea what the suffix of that sentence could be. You tell me. Actually don't, I want to figure it out myself.

So are you folks wondering who this girl is?

Tom, being typically Tom-like (what are the odds of that?), found some random chick on the internet who knew where we were having all of our shows for the next three months, except for- and here's the ironic part- the one in her area.

So, without even really getting to know her (or even finding out if she was just some obsessive teenie weirdo who wants the have our babies), he just threw a couple of tickets her way. And, oh yeah, backstage passes too. Go figure, he wants to meet this girl.

Anyway, so Tom found out more about her and kinda developed a thing for her, and for the last two days they've been talking to each other steady. He was literally sitting at his phone today waiting for her to call, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to come home.

Then, when she did call today, she asked specifically to talk to me. She even called me studly! Okay, my original hunch was right, she's kind of a weirdo, but it really suits her; she's really quite... well, awesome, to say the least. But the 'studly' description of me is just another thing about her that makes me go "What the fuck?"

Not, of course, meaning that I didn't like it. Because guys, this girl is HOT. And then as soon as we were talking, we bonded like... I dunno, glue to paper? But we were talking on speakerphone and the webcam was going at the same time, so it was sort of like face-to-face, at least as close to face-to-face as you can get when you're five states away from each other.

Then the guys left the room, and we were talking on the phone... well, alone. I found out that she wants to be a facial reconstructionist like Angela from Bones and a kinesthologist like Dr. Brennan. Yeah, the guys make me watch it, even though it's a little too freaky for my taste. Dead things, ya know? But I digress.

I infrmed her of the perks (or lack thereof) of living most of your days on a tour bus with three other guys, a manager, and a driver. That's little to none, in the way of said perks.

Anyway, I have to get to bed, since it's nearing on ten p.m. Yeah, the whole early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise thing actually works. Plus, I wanna know what kind of fucked-up dreams I'm gonna have about this whole ordeal!

And if the girl this is about is reading this, well... Yeah, I did mention that our conversation meant something! A lot, actually, if you hadn't noticed.

So, until next time; Goodnight! <3

I post the blog and log off, and hen log into the CIWWAF official MySpace and see if she has one, and if she does then I'm adding her. I realize that I don't know her last name, but I suppose if I type in May-ann it might come up. Both May and Ann are common, but not together.

Sure enough, there's one. And she's online? Well, my luck's certainly all sorts of amazing. I highlight and copy her URL, log back into mine, and add her.

She accepts a couple minutes later, and I go back to my main page. Under 'Bulletins,' there's a half-minute old one posted by her. The subject says, "Well. =D" I click on it and read it.

I think I may very well be in love... or at least like. A lot of like. But who knows? Message me if you want to know who the lucky person is.

I hit 'Reply to Poster' and type one word- "Who?" and add a smiley.

I pray to the Big Lesbian God That Doesn't Exist (thank you, David Levithan, for my religion) that it's me.

Because when I told her that I was interested in someone... oh yeah, guess who that someone was. And no, it wasn't Kelly Clarkson. It was May-ann. (Well, duh.)

I reply to my other messages (and delete the ones from crazy boring fans who just want to know what's up in my life) and by the time I'm done, she's replied.

You, silly. <3 Now go to bed, you have a show in the morning. She also enclosed a photo of her blowing a kiss. She's signed off now, but I reply anyway.

Goodnight Wait, what do I put here? Beautiful? sexy? Gorgeous? Baby? I sigh and just put a period at the end. Then I delete the period and put, May-ann, and sleep well. Sweet dreams. I adore you. Then I backspace the last sentence and type, Read my new blog, okay?

Then finally, (oh indecisive me) I press send.

I sign off and hit the sack.