"My life," Jason tells me in the car as we sip our coffee, "would make like, the best movie ever. Seriously."

We have this conversation once a week in between talking about how great his boyfriend is and how much better looking Jason is than most people. This sounds very self-involved and it is, but in return he laughs at all of my jokes and always agrees with me no matter what.

"Seriously?" I ask back, joking of course in reference to Meredith Grey as I watch the rain splatter on my windshield. And I just had my car washed.

"Seriously," he replies and flips to a Postal Service song on the iPod, asking if I'd heard it. Its three years old, but its new to him.

I grin. "No, think about it," he continues, and means it when he says, "like, its just... its really good. Like, the characters are really good."

"I like the part where you get bitten by the snake and become a super hero," I note, referring to the time in second grade when he was bitten by a rattle snake, scaring our second grade class who was convinced the kid was going to die. OK, I was really convinced the kid was going to die, which would really cramp my style since he was my reading partner in class, and until he was back from hospital I was working with Jake- the kid who pooped his pants and no one else wanted to read with.

He laughs, then swallows hard, "I hate snakes now," he shudders.

"OK," I say, "What's my name in the movie?"

He thinks for two entire seconds and giggles, "Marie Antoinette."

"Is my hair really that big?"

"Lois."

"Really?"

"Lane?"

"Yeah. Lane."

"Lane. And I'd be..."

"Clark?"

"Eh."

"Ben."

"Ben," he pauses, "Braddock."

"Oh, way to go," I note.

He lifts his vente mocha whatever and extra foam, "Here's to you Mrs. Robinson."

"Ben's an asshole in the book," I tell him and he looks hurt, as if I personally attacked him.

"Yeah? He's likeable in the movie. I mean, I liked him in the movie..." he trails off, as if he thinks his answer is wrong.

"No, yeah, but it's hard not to like Dustin Hoffman," I offer.

"Is that movie what made him famous?" Jason wants to know with a genuine interest.

"Well, it wasn't the Volkswagen commercial he did in 1960. That's for sure."

"Oh my God," Jason says, turning towards me in his seat, "Hoffman can totally play my dad!"

Stephanie has a handful of friends that have been bitten by radioactive animals. Really, just ask Weasel Boy.

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