Charlie’s birthday was a few days ago (happy birthday, Chazz!) and in case you’ve never received a present from me before, listen up: I am a really good gift-giver. I am always listening for little clues, and I am an expert at getting people that thing they didn’t know they totally needed. For serious. The best present I ever gave was a small cast-iron pig–to my dad. It made no sense but it totally worked.
So a few weeks ago, like the calm cool and collected girlfriend I am, I was attempting to plunge the depths of Charlie’s psyche to figure out exactly what he wanted for his birthday. Our conversation went something like this:
Tori: [in a high, squeaky voice] Soooooooo what do you want for your birthday?
Charlie: [nodding along to Brian Eno]
Tori: I AM THIS CLOSE TO NOT GETTING YOU A BIRTHDAY PRESENT.
Charlie: The only thing I want is a velvet g-string.
Charlie: I want a velvet g-string.
Charlie: A velvet g-string.
Tori: Why aren’t you smiling? Is this a joke?
Charlie: Why would it be a joke?
Tori: You’re weirding me out! Why do you sound so serious? Do you actually want a VELVET G-STRING?
Tori: Oh my gosh.
The conversation proceeded along those lines for like, I kid you not, five minutes, until the truth came to light. Apparently a “velvet g-string” is like some super awesome type of string for the upright bass, which Charlie plays.