Kurt loves loves LOVES to do laundry, and I fucking hate it. I therefore offered him a proposal: if he came over and helped me with laundry, I'd cook him dinner.

He agreed to come help with the laundry (geez I hate laundry!) as long as I promised not to cook for him. He said he ate earlier, but I think he figured out that someone who hates laundry is probably not a very good cook. God Bless him for coming and helping.

See, here's the deal: I have more clothes than most people. I worked retail for years, and they were there all the time, and also, I hate laundry (which I may have mentioned) and I've been known to go shopping to avoid washing more clothes (which I hate).

Kurt came over, and immediately started sorting. He gave me some tips and pointers so I assisted in the sorting of clothing, and Kurt didn't say anything as he went behind me to move things to the proper piles. He was amazed that I had enough red clothing to do one whole load of just red. I was sort of amazed, too, because I hate laundry (which I may have mentioned.)

AND... FABOO! The E! True Hollywood Story of Liza (with a "z") was on, and so we watched the whole two hours of tragic, heartbreaking, total weirdness that is Liza.

We decided to take a break from laundry (which I hate) because we were Liza'd out (much like the whole world, after the '70s, apparently) and Kurt wanted a Guinness.

So we went to this pub in my hometown and were delighted that we were not the only gay people there. We had a couple (okay, three) beers and then he dropped me off at my house, and he went home.

Big night of contrasts, eh? Laundry (which, by the way, I hate), Liza, and straight suburban bars. And I had a great time. Except for the laundry.