Month: May 2010

The best part of my day today was spent in the greeting card aisle. I was looking for birthday cards and stumbled upon a gold mine. Unfortunately, I have to hold on to the cards for a while, because most of my friends have just recently celebrated their birthdays. Alice is a prime example. Her actual birthday was in October and her according to me birthday (birthday, Arbor day, what’s the difference?) was in April. She didn’t seem to mind the erroneous card and gift in April, so I may actually give her another soon.

While walking around the store, I found a good amount of reminders of some of my blog entries and other entries of sorts. The safety recall notice in the mop section made me think,”I bet there are some people who wish they’d had the luxury of a simple safety recall notice.” 

I made my way to work and got the pleasure of chatting with ROFL. Being that he is into all things www, I regularly reference my blog when speaking with him. He regularly has no idea what I am talking about. Today was no different, except that ROFL made a commitment to read my blog and comment, maybe. Nothing like a maybe commitment.

Except, regifting. Regifting is about as good as a maybe commitment. With today being a friend’s birthday, I decided to regift No Action Jaxon. I gave him a nice bath, tied a green for recycling/regifting ribbon around his neck, put all of his goodies in a basket and sent a picture of this lovely ensemble to the recipient. I’m sure she is ecstatic. Hopefully he doesn’t come back this way. If he does, it’s no more No Action Jaxon or J.R. Muffnstuf – his name will have to be changed, to Boomerang.

It seems like forever since I’ve seen Alice. She and Hot Mustard have family in St. John and had to go visit – poor things. When I picked her up for Italian class today she started telling me about her trip. Then she showed me her legs and said, “I hate St. Thomas. We had to go to St. Thomas and I hate it.” I asked if the red spots taking over her legs were mosquito bites and she replied, “No, no-see-ums.” I asked, “Noseeums,” because in my mind that was all one word, “What are those?” “I don’t know,” said Alice, “I no see um.”

We got to class and it became apparent it was going to be a no-speak-um Italian night. This happens a lot. I highly doubt anyone in class can complete a full sentence in Italian, but we know a lot of nouns and everyone knows Overachiever has pantalones blu. I told Alice that Senor De la Cruz, my seventh grade Spanish teacher, would never let me get away with only knowing nouns. It was full sentences only in his class. In this class, I know borsa (purse), but I couldn’t tell you if I have one, want one, need one, wear one, stole one or dumped one out in front of the class.

Which is exactly what That’s Not Italian did today. She went Breakfast Club Ally Sheedy on our no-speak-um Italian asses and started pulling random items out of her borsa and having us name them in Italian. She preferred to pull the items out in twos, kind of like Noah, if he had a borsa instead of an ark.

Discussing the items in her borsa lead to a discussion about what the men in class like to use when they shave and how they do it. For example, Direct Translation informed everyone, “I use a shaving oil from Scotland, just two drops, it’s perfect.” Alice wrote me a note while this conversation was progressing, “Fucked Up Italian.” Yes, that is what we are taking, FUI. Alice is always spot on. That’s Not Italian was quite enjoying the shaving discussion and told us she has a tendency to “get on trandems.” Translation: go off on a tangent.

All of the shaving talk reminded me of the idea I had while swimming at the 55 and older pool. Q, MyFace, That’s Not Chinese and I were discussing the pros and cons of waxing and what all should be waxed. It was then that I had a visual and, of course, had to share it with them. I thought it might be a good idea to wax everything but the bikini line and let the bikini/side line pubic hairs grow out long enough to do a combover. Alice was quite pleased with this idea and we decided to ask That’s Not Italian how to say ‘combover’ in Italian. She told us, “Italians no combover, that’s America thing.” 

While heading home from class, Alice and I started talking about taking another class once this one ends. We’re thinking English. In doing so, maybe we’ll learn Italian.

Within a few hours of arriving at our lovely home away from home, it became apparent we might be the Salahis of Surprise, aka party crashers – a concept and practice I’ve always enjoyed. The community in which we were residing was very retirement friendly. As a result, dating odds weren’t good, unless you’re into taking your teeth out at night.

That’s Not Chinese and MyFace made the room decisions while Q and I were getting massages and facials.  That’s Not Chinese got the private casita, MyFace got the master bedroom and Q and I got our own rooms with a shared bathroom. One morning Q said to me, “You don’t make any noise when you sleep and you don’t move much – you just kind of lay there, like you’re dead.” It took a minute before I thought the latter part of her comment was strange. Once I figured that out, I asked Q if she came into my room in the middle of the night and watched me sleep. She said “yes,” and I told her I had  a feeling that may have been the case.

In addition to having a very luxurious living arrangement, we also had a private pool, so we didn’t have to go to the clubhouse pool – probably a win-win for everyone. MyFace and I decided to hold our own version of the olympics/senior games and had tube races across the pool. It was after this event that I decided I would take up the art of the tube. Q was also my inspiration, when she unsuccessfully attempted to pull the tube over her head and baby bloated belly. By the end of the vacation I was able to jump right into the center of the tube without incident. I’ve got to figure out a good way to briefly share this skill on my resume. I may also consider being a Navy Seal.

One evening we were on the patio, enjoying the warm evening air, when MyFace suggested a toast. I’m not sure what had happened to my drink (I can only assume someone drank it), so I raised my glass of water. MyFace was having no part of this, “You can’t cheer with water, that’s bad luck.” This explains a lot of things. 

Towards the last part of the trip we finally saw a neighbor. Most of the homeowners only come around in the winter, so outside of the people whose party we crashed at the clubhouse, there were very few people out and about. The next door neighbor could hear us in the pool and thought she would check in on us. MyFace explained to her who she knew and why we were there. The neighbor didn’t seem too interested in that information, but was very interested in the answer to her next question, “How long are you staying?” Today, as we were leaving, we noticed a “For Sale” sign in the neighbor’s yard – hope it wasn’t the tube talent that drove her away.

Yesterday was the start of a four day weekend with my girls. We had massages and facials scheduled an hour after our flight arrived, so MyFace suggested (instructed, actually) I only bring a carryon. I agreed (knowing I would check a bag, I have to, I’m Medallion status) and asked what she was packing. Her reply, “swimsuit, shorts, dress, couple tops, maybe underwear.” Perfect.

I picked up That’s Not Chinese and made sure to have Do-Wacka-Do on repeat – early mornings aren’t her thing, “Double digits girl, I go to bed when they hit and don’t wake up until they hit again.” We met up with Q and made our way to meet MyFace at the airport. As we approached (translation, half a mile away) the gate, MyFace spotted us and shouted, “You checked your bags! I knew it! I told you carryon only, I can’t believe you. Actually, I can.”

We managed to board, fly and deplane without incident. This is a major accomplishment. Last time we flew, with Fru Fru Pants, we got an “I never!” This was followed up with a lecture about how loud we were on the plane, she (the person in 21B now known as “I never”) now knows everything about us and, she never!

MyFace hooked us up with plush lodging at a country club, a country club with age restrictions: 55 and older, no kids. Luckily we all had fake IDs. Speaking of IDs, a few people had concerns about me coming here, due to the new immigration law and all. I advised them I was looking forward to it, I’ve been wanting to trace my ancestry (which isn’t saying I don’t trust the Greek women at the coffee shop who told me I’m Greek) and, if I get deported, I’ll know all roads lead to Mexico for me. If I do get deported, I hope I can check my bag. If not, I’ll just take a carryon, with underwear, maybe.

Q phoned today to tell me she got upgraded to First Class on our flight to Arizona – so lucky. This got me thinking and I’ve decided I may start a boarding system in my car. Just the other day That’s Not Chinese wanted to know why I had an arm rest on my chair and she didn’t. I didn’t have a response then, but now I do, First Class baby! I think I’ll give those that ride in the front seat a blanket and those in the back seat (coach) will have to pay to use the seatbelts. I’ll probably also let those riding in front get in and out first. This is going to be great.

With everything that’s been going on in Arizona (Immigration law), a lot of people have asked why I’m going there. My answer is simple: I’ve been wanting to find out about my ancestry and figured instead of doing genealogy online I’d just head to Arizona – if I get deported, my work is done.

Depending on how things go this blog may soon be called amiga de grigio.

OregganO sent me a text today telling me she had a surprise for me and to stop by after work. I, of course, obliged and arrived at her house immediately after work. My surprise: black fishnet leggings. I was so excited! I told her I had spoken with Clark Kent today and we were discussing the difference between a bitch and a tramp. After the discussion I told him I would much rather be a tramp. The fishnet leggings couldn’t have come at a better time. OregganO and I shared a glass of wine and I made my way to Italian class, senza Alice. I tried to convince OregganO to join me, but she had things to do. We planned to meet up again after my class.

Class was good as usual, with all kinds of ‘blogworthy’ material. It was, however, not as much fun senza Alice. Apparently last week Not A Good Chef announced he was Not A Good Drunk. Sorry that I missed that. This week, Not A Good Drunk Chef and Overachiever were relatively quiet, while That’s Not Italian was in rare form. We were talking about eating and one of the students wanted to know how to translate ‘beached whale.’ That’s Not Italian responded, “The real Italian are not beached whale. That’s an American thing.” A few minutes later, the power went out in the room. That’s Not Italian instructed us to, “move around, a lot, you no move around, that’s the problem, light is magic and shut off.” Quattro Espressos went out of his way to bring power back to the room, which really impressed Bombshell McGee. They’re so cute.

Midway through class I received a text from FatGirl. He and Tree wanted to get drinks. I, of course, told him I was in, as soon as I finished class. I stopped by OregganO’s for conversation and, while there, received another text from FatGirl saying he might not go out  and, instead, would wallow in his self-pity. I responded with, “Why wallow when you can swallow. Meet us for dinner and drinks.” The wallow swallow comment got to him, and he decided to join us.

OregganO and I picked up Tree and we began to make our way to FatGirl’s place. Tree decided to shave some chops and told us, “Now all I need are some assless chaps.” Chaps and chops are where it’s at these days. We arrived at FatGirl’s and, as soon as we opened the door, he started snapping pictures. He did his hair today, but not with a beanie. He informed us, “I finger tossed it….and my hair too.”

Tree and FatGirl had already eaten so we went to a Mexican drive-thru by FatGirl’s house to get food for OregganO and I. FatGirl told us they serve minority scholarships and burritos. Makes sense. We got our burritos and took them to our first stop. While there, we began talking about music and FatGirl informed us he would cry if he met J Lo. Tree informed him he would never cry for any celebrity – ever! Tree then told us how he would charge his mom and aunts a quarter to watch him perform Crystal Gayle’s “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue” and would close with “Purple People Eater,” to bring the mood back up. Such a good man, always thinking of his audience.

ROFL called me with some work questions today and, mid-conversation, told me I sounded like a “bored, stay-at-home, mormon housewife.” I asked him two questions 1) what does a bored, stay-at-home, mormon housewife sound like and b) how does he know what that sounds like? He could not answer either question. I informed him I was, in fact, bored and at home and that my milkman brought me meatloaf instead of mac-n-cheese. ROFL replied, “As long you enjoy the taste, that’s all that matters.”

Later in the day I was making my daily query of the public library database, requesting any and every cd or movie I could remember, when my requests began being denied. Apparently, I have requested too much as of late. It is kind of starting to feel like we’re married, me and Dewey Decimal. It was a bit of a downer to experience such public rejection. I wonder if there are any private libraries from which I could borrow.

In the meantime, I relied upon the sound advice of  Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and decided to love the dvds I was “with”: Bottle Rocket and The General. Both were exceptional. I quite like the description of Martin Cahill (The General): Family man. Psychopath. Folk hero. Gangster. “Psychopath” had me concerned for a minute, but when I read “Folk hero” I melted. Definitely characteristics to watch for when I end things with Dewey and start browsing the personal ads instead of the library catalog.

I can’t believe my luck – a proper breakfast twice in one week! With Dr. BJ and MJ leaving for home today, we felt it was appropriate to enjoy homemade breakfast at my place. That’s Not Chinese and I planned the menu: French toast (emphasis on the French), eggs, fakin’ bacon, mimosas and coffee. The instructions for the fakin’ bacon did not include an oven option, so we had to use our own judgement. Sketch. The thing with fakin’ bacon is it doesn’t fake burn, it really burns. Guess 30 minutes on high broil wasn’t good judgment.

 

After transporting the boys to the airport, That’s Not Chinese and I opted for a lovely afternoon walk in the park. By our side was our trusty guard dog, No Action Jaxon. We made our way to the ducks and started sharing our bread with them. That’s Not Chinese was a bit bothered by the selfishness of some of the bread recipients. It was about this time when I threw a few bits of bread out to the ducks and geese, and one of the seagulls swooped in for retrieval. Being that it was Mother’s day, the mama duck was not going to stand (or float) for that. She and several other members of the Anatidae family started attacking the seagull. It was on. Duck fights in the park. That’s Not Chinese started hootin’ and hollerin’ (aka, bird calling) and attempting to make her way into the pond to save the seagull. Then her flip flop and her right foot got stuck in the mud – they’re flip flops, not flippers. I’m not sure who was flailing more, her or the Anatidaes. I asked her what she planned to do once she got in the water, “Have you saved ducks before? Are you some kind of secret duck saver?” She had no response. I shared the story with Dr. BJ via text. His reply, “She’s suppose to throw bread at the geese, not herself.” That’s Not Chinese was so traumatized she wanted to leave the park immediately. I wanted to stay and catch one more fight – rightly so, it’s Mother’s Day.

 

We made it back to my house without incident and decided to paint our nails and watch documentaries in which we have cameo (not to be confused with cameltoe) appearances. That’s Not Chinese was sitting on the floor and I was sitting at the table. She offered me one million dollars to hand her wine glass to her. I knew she didn’t have one million dollars, and didn’t want her to feel bad when she couldn’t follow through with the agreement, so I sort of tossed it her way. Had the handoff/catch been better, it might have ended better for That’s Not Chinese. She was covered with wine, as were my walls, floors, and table. My ending, however, was a bit better. I sipped a glass of grigio while That’s Not Chinese cleaned my floor.

Surprisingly, I woke up in time for work today and wasn’t a complete wreck. I even had enough time to speak with BeCuz for a bit while she was making her way to spend time with her mother (getting a head start on the greeting card holiday). While speaking with her, I accidentally hung up on her. This is something I do regularly, not just to her, to everyone. Not on purpose, it mostly happens when I’m holding my phone to my left ear. I swear my left cheek heats up and protrudes, resulting in disconnections. I quickly rang BeCuz back and she apologized, stating it was her “damn touch phone.” Hmmm, maybe it isn’t about my cheek.

Upon arriving at work I was informed of a suspicious situation. As usual, I stepped right in to help. While on the phone with realtor, attorney, and intel gatherer, OregganO, my left cheek caused the phone to go into merge call mode. It took a minute, but I figured it out. When I hung up, I was telling my boss I really didn’t know how to use my phone. She told me that maybe I should have a dumb phone instead of a smart phone.

I came home to find That’s Not Chinese patiently waiting for me on the porch. We were chatting about a variety of really important things when I told her I had two reasons for not wanting to go to work today. I started with 1) and ended with b); she liked that. I’m glad I didn’t have three things to tell her – I would have to decide between 3 and c.

Gotta love Fridays. Started the day chatting with That’s Not Chinese and giving her a ride to work. I came home to find OregganO in her kerchief, and Dr. BJ in his graduation cap, MJ was still sleeping in the back – long evening nap. The Leaver was on the porch. I don’t blame her, if I had walked in on this group, not knowing who they were (which she didn’t), I’d have stayed outside too.

We had a lovely birthday/graduation breakfast, complete with mimosas and Irish coffees – embracing a little bit of everyone’s Irish culture. The German pancakes were in honor of OregganO’s culture. Had That’s Not Chinese stayed, she probably would have told Oreggano that she is not German, clearly Turkish (must have been the fakin’ bacon). OregganO was telling The Leaver about her morning (even though it had only been ‘morning’ for about 49 minutes) and advised her, “I’m unemployed.” The Leaver asked, “Really? You’re unemployed.” OregganO replied, “No, no, I’m a realtor.” She forgot to mention she is also my attorney.

The Leaver was in rare form. We later found out it was her birthday (when she sent a text thanking me for the birthday breakfast. Who knew? She knew.). Prior to The Leaver leaving, she posed a very interesting question about, well, bits and pieces. This, of course, was after the first and most important question she posed, “How do you like my combover?” We liked it. Anyway, her second question resulted in a lot of googling and wikipediaing – where a woman with the last name of Cornforth provided some answers. The Leaver was embarrassed by her question, so I wrote her a note telling her it was OK. She told me she was going to put the note in her treasure box, with her slingshot. A few minutes later she couldn’t find the note and admitted she hadn’t read it. Hmmmm.

Today is a big day for Dr. BJ because he gets to ‘walk’ at his graduation, after which, party at my house. Dr. BJ wore his graduation gown and hood – thanks to MJ for ‘hooding’ him and, yes, MJ followed the hooding instructions. When Dr. BJ abruptly stripped off his gown we were all shocked to see…..his plaid pants. He was wearing the hell out of his plaid golf pants and asked if his butt looked big in them. We told him he had PhBoo-D (pronounced Ph Booty).

Carmas With A ‘K’ stopped by the party and was representin’. He quite enjoyed overhearing another party goer inform us that she likes the chub, but doesn’t like the chub-E. Upon hearing that he glanced my way and quipped, “Blogworthy,” and a few minutes later told me, “your notepad is wiley.”‘

The Leaver joined in the festivities again and we decided to smoke her eyes out – why not, it’s her birthday. Girl’s Girl loved that we were ‘playing make up’ at the party and shared a story about tanning with us. She does a little cooch covering during her tanning session, so as to avoid vaginal melanoma – primarily because she doesn’t want to tell or show her doctor why and how she tans. Smart Girl’s Girl.  

Before The Leaver left (she does that a lot), OregganO pulled out one of the Avon Fashions jumpsuits and suggested she wear it – to compliment the smoky eyes. The Leaver respectfully declined, so I donned it with a white sweat headband. I’ll Call You Later II, who would have a boat and really love his wife if he was in a Real Housewives reality tv show, saw my jumpsuit and said “Whats that?, Oh, just  a nightgown.” I’ll Call You Later II should probably not audition to be a host on What Not to Wear.

As the evening progressed, we were graced with the presence of many of my blogs finest contributors and readers. Even Skiwi stopped by with  Disco Dancing Dog Groomer, if Disco Dancing Dog Groomer “edited” others as often as Carmas Wiht A ‘K,’ I would call her Spell Czech. But, she doesn’t, instead she disco dances with No Action Jaxon, all the while clipping his nails – it is both a sight to see and an amazing talent.

Carmas With A ‘K’ and I decided to eat the snickers off of the cupcakes – we had too. We started to feel a little guilty about leaving the cupcakes void of the snickers, so we replaced them with broccoli, cherry tomatoes and pita bread. Plaid Poly was appalled, “I would not ruin food – that’s against the Lord’s law.” Carmas With A ‘K’ agreed with Plaid Poly. He didn’t, however, agree with the skirt Oprah was wearing today. He totally agrees with and loves Tiger Beat magazine. Interesting.

After everyone left and the party was over, I remembered to give Dr. BJ our gift, Oh, the Places You’ll Go! Party Edition, he was proper impressed and said he liked it best. We reviewed it for party potential and found there was none. MJ was hellbent on finding the party potential, found some sparkles on the cover, and determined it was the sparkles that made it the party edition. I looked on my skin and found some sparkles too. Looks like I’m also the party edition.