For all of my life, I thought that I was weird and hairy.
Then I came to Wesleyan and met Russell. Knowing him has changed the way I
define things, such as weird and hairy. Also things such as good touch and bad
touch between roommates. Also things such as Flamper, which I now realize is
not a word, and Twenteen, which I now realize is not a number. Russ and I were
like the original Odd Couple, both very funny. Without him, things would be
really different. Silly Putty would not have been lit on fire. Wonderful
laughs would not have been had. Dozens of women would not have been befouled.
I still would have jerked off, but who would have held the camera? I often
wonder how strong my feelings towards Russ are. To put it in perspective, I
think about Jordan and Josh, both of whom I don’t particularly care for. Then I
think about how unhappy I am with them. Then I forget about Russ entirely and
start scratching away at my desk with a scissor, something I do when very angry
or extremely elated. Russ likes science and seems to think that that is a big
part of his identity. What he often doesn’t ask himself, though, is, “who
cares?” No one, Russell. That’s the answer to your unasked question. Except
Adam, who likes science too, and does voices for A Crowded Fire, and is like
Russell except less hairy and doesn’t cry during sex. Russ is from South
Africa, which he uses as a social crutch. He also likes to write reports on
South Africa and title them, “Falling Apartheid the Seems,” which he seems to
think is witty. When Russ found out my email address the summer before Freshman
year, he sent me an email with the subject “Yo Jew roommate.” Thinking this guy
was a wackjob, I tried to jive with his insanity, and sent him back an email
asking for a description of his wardrobe so we could coordinate our dress. Then
we spoke on the phone, he told me he was too scared to go to Pearl Jam concerts
and that he plans on bringing a massive chair for our room and wanted to know if
that was okay. Russ often provides me with chairs, as I sat in that large one
last year. I now use one of Russ’s chairs as my desk chair because I broke my
old one after Florida was called in the ’04 election. I often forget this chair
is his and feel very badly about the stains. Russ has had his hands around more
girls from my high school than I have, and that is a true statement. Russell’s
mom wanted to make me a cape last year. She asked if I would wear it and I
didn’t know how to respond. I thought maybe “cape” was a South African word for
something not weird. But now I wish I had gotten that cape, and now realize
that Linda Berg may know what I want more than I do. Russ used to talk about my
calves a lot and it made me uncomfortable. Deep down though, I liked it.
Sometimes last year situations with the opposite sex would provoke me to lose
my temper. Sometimes the floor was littered with shattered glass. Russ cleaned
it up without me even asking while I went to get pizza with that girl with the
fantastic rack. Glass broke a lot in our room. But the bonds of friendship
didn’t. Neither did the wooden sculpture. Which is fortunate, because it was a
nice sculpture. Russ makes sculptures that are supposedly complex intricate
depictions of things in the science world, but to someone who’s not a dork look
like a huge pile of crap. Russ has been like a brother to me. Wait, sorry,
that’s a typo. Russ has been like a bother to me. A huge bother. But it’s the
kind of bothering I hope to God will never stop. I’d like to wish Russ a happy
20th birthday, for it will be his last. 20th birthday.
And now because awkward radio is our raison de nom tete forte specialty, I would
like to hug you on air. You listening to this will probably hear me slapping
his back, because that makes man hugs ungay. Happy birthday, buddy.