Kito and I attended our first condo association meeting this week. There are only three units in our building, and as it happens they're all owned by gays. A lesbian lives on the floor above us, and another couple of gay dudes lives below. I especially liked the lesbian. She seems smart and serious and she maintains a plot at the community garden and she works for Greenpeace for chrissakes. I kept thinking, "If I ever grow up and get my shit together, I'm totally going to be a lesbian."
All is not entirely sunny at our little Homo Hilton, however. The last three people to buy condos in the building--the lesbian, one of the guys downstairs, and the previous owner of our apartment--all broke up with their long-term partners shortly after moving in. They've each found someone new since then, but the possibility remains that our building is cursed by love.
The other attendees assured us that they had "burned a lot of sage" after their breakups, which I gather is some sort of ritual meant to drive away bad mojo. I wanted to ask for more details about this sage-burning, but I didn't want them to think Kito and I were know-nothing rubes.
Evidently it didn't work. We were in the home of our downstairs neighbors, you see. And at one point, we were admiring their extensively stocked bar because, after all, it was something to say. Kito remarked that his friends "sure would like to attack that" (Kito's friends are all drunks), whereupon one of our hosts said something like, "They probably wouldn't recognize half the bottles."
So I guess Kito and I seem like the sort of people with friends who drink moonshine out of jugs marked "XXX."