I don’t get much sleep last night. At 11:30 or so Ryan comes over. We’ve been plowing through the third season of Angel together and we’re down to the last episode. I’ve seen it all before. It’s the first time for him. Simultaneously, We’ve been savoring the first (and only) season of Firefly. We’re down to the last episode of that one, too. It’s Saturday, and I’ve allowed myself to have some of a bottle of pure agave Tequila that’s been gathering dust in my pantry. Ryan’s only too happy to help out.
We make our way through that final episode of Firefly first. It’s a bittersweet experience. The character of Early the Bounty Hunter is perfect. That it’s the last episode is maddening. Then we switch to Angel: Cordy loves Angel, Connor tricks Dad, Lorne heads for Vegas, Lilah falls into bed with Wesley… Great stuff, though hard to compare to the “Numfar! Do the dance of shame!” of last season.
As Angel wraps up, we realize that Bertila next door is having a hell of a time with her friends Rachel and Bob. Ryan goes over to say hello and introduce himself, while I, succumbing to what must be a depression-induced craving, whip up a batch of flour tortillas. Ryan proves to be a hit. Bertila and friends are stoned and drunk, so everything Ryan says is pure comedy gold. Ryan tell me later that he’s never been that funny to other people before. I join them long enough to say hello and rassle with Bertila’s cat, Pearl.
Then, at two-thirty on Sunday morning, Ryan and I munch on fresh tortillas and watch X-Files with bleary eyes. He’s lamenting the approach of the end of the Buffyverse. He’s not seen Season Seven yet. What’s he gonna do without that to look forward to?? X-Files, he says, just won’t cut it. I try to point out the merits of X-Files but he just won’t listen.
We finish the tortillas, at which point Ryan remembers with horror that he’d promised the neighbors to bring them some. So he goes next door to to tell them I screwed up the batch and that they turned out all wrong. That’s my idea, so it’s okay. We wrap things up for the evening. I set my alarm for nine and pass out.
I walk to work via Starbuck’s the next morning (today) and Ryan calls shortly after ten and sleepily tells me that he’s gonna be a little late. He shows up for work at 10:45 with two giant coffees. He’s thrilled to be working with me because I won’t object to Buff-ing out all day, so he goes and gets the entire Buffy collection and sits down to sort them all out. I manage to take one picture of him before he realizes that I have the camera out and threatens to beat me up.
Ryan sorts Buffy and Angel according to season and disc. Note the Emerald Video t-shirt he’s wearing. The front reads, “Man it’s a shame when folks be throwing a way a perfectly good white boy like that.”