Month: February 2012

That’s Not Chinese, Mi Amiga and I were in the mood for Indian food so we drove to a downtown restaurant. As we drove around for parking we noticed a woman leaving the restaurant and hopping in the passenger side of a vehicle that was parked right in front of the restaurant. We turned on the signal and waited…and waited. “Do you think she’s really leaving?” That’s Not Chinese asked. “She is in the passenger seat and just ate Indian food, maybe her boyfriend or husband is using the bathroom,” Mi Amiga suggested. “Go check,” That’s Not Chinese told me. I approached her window, knocked, and asked if we were waiting in vain – we wanted none of that.

 

She confirmed what Mi Amiga suggested and a few minutes later we had prime parking. We were quickly seated next to a cute, young couple who were at a table with settings for four. Instead of sitting across from each other, they were sitting next to each other. “That is D-Dog’s pet peeve,” I advised Mi Amiga and That’s Not Chinese. “I can’t stand when couples sit like that,” That’s Not Chinese said. “Me neither, but it’s European custom. I went out with an Italian once and he never asked me out again. I think it’s because I wouldn’t sit next to him,” Mi Amiga told us. “Ridiculous. It strains your neck,” That’s Not Chinese added. All of us were into none of that.

 

After a lovely dining experience we grabbed our takeout boxes and returned to That’s Not Chinese’s house. It was quickly determined that they would be cleaning and packing, thus, I would be leaving – when it comes to cleaning, I want none of that. As I was giving hugs goodbye, I dropped my takeout box, which opened as soon as it hit the floor. Although my Aloo Tama Bodi stayed inside the box, my naan hit the floor. That’s Not Chinese quickly picked it up and put it back in the box, atop my Aloo Tama Badi. “I’m sure that has cat hair all over it,” I stated. By the looks on their faces, they felt the same way. As much as I love leftovers, I knew I would not be having naan of that.

 

 

February 18 is National Drink Wine Day. For me, it is a lot like VD, in that my employer doesn’t recognize the significance of the day. This year, S-Unit asked me if VD was a paid holiday. “No, we have to work. The good news is we all arrived at work to find topical creams at our desk,” I told her.

 

With National Drink Wine Day falling on a Saturday this year, I didn’t have to go to the office. I did, however, work at the retail store. “Do you get holiday pay?” Sleepless asked. No holiday pay, just Drink Wine delay. As soon as my shift ended, I hustled home to begin the festivities. Sleepless came well prepared with Pinot Grigio and Pink Zinfandel and I had a magnum of low-end fortified red on hand for those (Dr. BJ and Passed The Sniff Test) who wanted something of a darker blend.

 

Wine has been around forever. The oldest bottle is currently on display at Historisches Museum der Pfalz, in Germany, and is believed to have been made anywhere between 325 and 350 AD. Many have discussed this bottle and whether or not it should be opened and tasted. Wine professor Monika Christmann, from Geisenheim Research Centre, believes “…it would not bring joy to the palate.” Low-end fortified wines often have this some result. That said, after watching a couple Riunite and Ripple commercials, I would love a little something on ice that tastes so fine and winks back at me (I know, I can’t wink, but you know what I mean) – especially today.

 

After a long day at work, I met up with Sleepless and Progressive for movie Friday. As was expected, they had my drink ready.

 

Watching movies with me is not good if you actually want to watch the movie. I’m in it for the background noise. So, while Progressive was providing Sleepless loads of flood therapy (sans copay), she and I were chatting. In the midst of the conversation, she told us, “I’ve found a new game I can play all by myself.” Progressive and I advised her we’ve been playing that game for some time. “We call it masturbation,” said Progressive.

 

This was a good cue to go, so Sleepless and I made our way. En route to Ice Cream Man’s house we saw a fire engine. More than us seeing them, they saw us – they even braked in an attempt for us to catch up. Little did they know we’re not interested in that kind of hose.

 

When we arrived at Ice Cream Man’s place he welcomed us and found a gift at his door: The Titan. If you’re not familiar with The Titan, well, you’re probably playing Scramble.

 

“Did you see what is in this package?” Ice Cream Man asked us. “No,” we replied. “The Titan. It’s covered by Medicaid. Nobody knows I own this unit.” He then added, “We don’t cover those. We cover penis pumps. Can I get you drink?” He moved The Titan, grabbed a glass of water, from which we had all been drinking, and said, “I figure you’ve touched my penile pump, we can share water.”

 

From now on, I’m praying to Ice Cream Man….or Scramble.

 

Sleepless has been on a bit of a kick lately, where she takes note of one-liners and then posts them on her facebook page – completely out of context and leaving others wanting more.

 

The other day I was chatting with her about one of my favorite drinks, bubble tea. As I continued to go on about the tea and the most important part, boba balls, she informed me she has never had bubble tea.

 

Remembering her facial expression when she had cranberries, and knowing not everyone is a fan of boba balls, I wanted to be with her for her first tea, to see how she’d respond. “Don’t ever have one without me. I want to watch you swallow.” As soon as it came out of my mouth I realized it was totally fünked up. If Tobias Fünke was with me, he’d have a bubble tea and after a few boba balls got caught in his straw he’d say, “Even if it means me taking a chubby, I will suck it up.”

 

A few days later and I’m dining with 2Dew. “Today has definitely been a two Dew day,” she advised me. She wasn’t kidding. The server brought everyone their meal, except her. Clearly, it had been forgotten. Trying to help, I asked her, “Do you want some of my taco?” She heard me, but she didn’t reply. If Tobias had been there he might advise her, “Don’t leave your Uncle T-Bag hanging.”

 

That’s Not Chinese has a friend, Mi Amiga, in town from London. In proper hostess fashion, That’s Not Chinese has taken her around to various cultural events, such as VD dinner with me and MiniMe and Slut Cuts.

 

Mi Amiga has naturally curly hair and, though not in the market for a cut or color, was hoping for a little deep conditioning. “Can you do that?” That’s Not Chinese asked me. “Absolutely,” I told her and added, “Oh Wow put me in charge of sex in the sink so I’ll grab my best conditioner and do her right.”

 

As it turned out, several guests wanted to have sex in the sink with me. I ended up doing BioMom, Alice, Beaner, That’s Not Chinese and Mi Amiga. Alice wasn’t as keen on the process, “This feels like waterboarding.” I’m not sure how she knows what that feels like, so, while I had her under the tap, I asked a lot of questions. That’s Not Chinese didn’t seem to mind it at all and, as Beaner observed, “got really wet.” Mi Amiga patiently waited while others went before her, then mildly said, “I’m ready to be deepthroat conditioned.”

 

Once we got in the kitchen, she told me, “I think I’m going to moan.” And moan she did, but not for long – I’m guessing water may have got in her mouth.

 

Afterwards, I took a look around the room and was proud to see how many of the guests I had bagged, literally. At least three of them opted for the deep condition and, to help with the process, I tied plastic grocery bags around their hair. They may not wake up with me in the morning, but I’ve no doubt I’ll wake up on their mind, especially once they see and feel that which is a product of the best sex in the sink, ever.

 

Sentimental holidays are a great time to break up with someone. The primary reason this is beneficial is cost – financial and emotional. You will save yourself tons of money and tears if, for no other reason than to save money and tears, you break up with your significant other a few days prior to the holiday.

 

This doesn’t mean you won’t cry or spend money, you most likely will, but it won’t hurt as much. Instead of being completely let down by the lackluster way your partner approached the holiday, you can focus your disappointment on the end of a relationship (which you know you can start up again after the holiday, should you desire).

 

You can also spend your money on you. Go to dinner with friends and order the most expensive entree – you’ve earned it! Buy chocolates and extravagant gifts for yourself – you deserve nothing but the best! Get pampered – facials, massages, pedicures, manicures, the works. Just don’t do acrylic nails.

 

MiniMe had stopped by a few days before a holiday and was distraught over her relationship with Striker. I Noticed and I were listening, being supportive, when I noticed (me, not I Noticed) her French manicured nails. “When did you do that?” I asked. “Yesterday. I was so mad I got acrylic nails. I hate acrylic nails,” she replied in between tears. “You know you can just get a manicure, no acrylics,” I advised. “Yes, I know. Like I said, I was really mad,” she told us.

 

Lesson learned for both of us. MiniMe learned she won’t ever do acrylic nails again (mad or otherwise) and I learned only really mad girls have acrylic nails.

Just when I think it has been a while since I’ve had sex, someone tells me they had sex with me – in their dreams.

 

Sleepless was the first to confess such carnal somnia. It was almost a year ago and as far as I know we haven’t had sex since. This time, it was I Was A Stripper. Unlike Sleepless, who told me at breakfast with MyFace, Opreggano and Q in the room, I Was A Stripper told me via email. The subject line read, “Damn Girl,” and the email read, “I had a nasty dream about you! Thought  you might like to know:-) lol”

 

It was nice to know. Although, the ‘lol’ made it a little less sensual.

 

All of this activity involving me without me reminded me of a line I once heard in prison:

 

Inmate: Are your legs tired?

Me: No.

Inmate: They should be – you’ve been running through my mind all day.

 

It appears all of my physical activities – day or night – have been outsourced. Hopefully, I’ll be cleaning soon – in your dreams.

S-Unit’s parents are out of the country for her brother’s wedding. As a result, she and her sister are in charge of the family business. “I was ten minutes late opening the cleaners. My sister asked me, ‘Is this how you run a business?’ I reminded her I’m not running the business, I’m just in charge for a couple of Saturdays,” S-Unit told me after they had finally closed for the day. She went on to fill me in on her exhausting day.

 

“My mom specifically told me ‘no alterations,’ but a guy came in needing a button sewn on his pants and I’ve taken a class on sewing on buttons so I agreed to do it.” “You took a semester-long class on sewing on buttons?” I asked. “Yes. There were a few other things we learned, like sewing hidden zippers.” “How much did you charge him?” “Here’s the thing, I didn’t know how much to charge him so I just told him, ‘That will be $2 and I’ll have it done for you in a half hour.’ My sister said that was too little, especially if we had to pay for the button. Luckily, my parents were still at JFK and I was able to confirm the price with my mom. Looks like they’ll be able to stay in business for another week.” “Will you be there all week?” I asked, playing on something she had told me earlier in the week. “No, just on Saturdays,” she replied.

 

Later that evening, On My Terms and I went to a family-owned karaoke bar that has been around for years. Unlike my regular karaoke bar, where more warrants are served than drinks, this bar had a breathalyzer machine. Being that I was the designated driver, I decided to give it a blow. Seconds before my results posted, I received a message from the machine, “BLOW HARD NOW.” And so I did. My results: 0.00. “If I had more dollar bills I would blow all night,” I told La La Lovely and then suggested that her friend and his dad, who own a local personal injury law firm, start advertising on the breathalyzer machine. “Good idea,” he replied.

 

Also a good idea, would be for one of the patrons of the bar to frequent S-Unit’s family business. She was wearing the hell out of her pants and, as a result, it was difficult to know whether or not her zipper was down or just had difficulty staying up. Either way, she – all of us, really – would benefit from a hidden zipper; regardless of what any of us blow.

Anyone who is soon to have a baby should have a baby shower and anyone who attends a baby shower should dress appropriately. Thus, as I prepared for Opreggano’s baby shower, I quickly checked the internet for ‘what to wear to a baby shower.’ There was far more advice for the expecting than for the ‘don’t expect or try to stand out at the shower’ guests.

 

Being the helpful friend that I am, I shared the suggestions with Opreggano and, several hours later, Sleepless and I arrived at the shower in outfits that were feminine, yet not overtly sexy or slinky – internet advice followed.

 

It’s The Eyes welcomed us and took us straight to the drink table, “The stuff in the pitcher is really strong. The other stuff isn’t.” Sleepless and I both grabbed a glass of something really strong and took a seat.

 

Opreggano began opening presents, which involved a lot of bending forward and twisting – just like the internet predicted. Luckily, she chose a top that didn’t expose her soon to be lactating bits – something I pointed out to her while she held up one of the baby outfits.”I got the memo,” she replied.

 

“You’ve received so many outfits for the baby, after she wears them, you can just throw them in the trash instead of the laundry,” BioMom advised. “I never would have thought of that,” Sleepless replied. A few minutes later, as Opreggano was discussing how Cream Of Tartar had been handling life, post-conception, BioMom provided more advice, “Maybe you should remind him that you’re going to be dropping his child out of your vagina soon.”

 

“Speaking of,” Opreggano replied and then looked my way, “Tell them what your doctor told you to do with your placenta.” Like BioMom, regardless of my conservative attire, my comments were about to make me stand out. “Who’s got chapped lips?” I asked. I then bent down, chest not exposed, picked up my glass, and took a big sip of something really strong.

It has been almost two months since Fine Girl retired and she loves it. “All I ever wanted to do was drink coffee in the morning and watch the TODAY show, and I’m doing it!” By the fourth hour of the show, she’s put down her coffee and, like Kathie Lee, picked up her skinny margarita. “It’s the greatest on Sundays when I realize I don’t have to be anywhere the next morning. All I have to do is put on the coffee,” she told Calling The Dog and I while we were in our fourth hour of drinks.

 

We then begin talking polidicks – yes, polidicks. These are the men in positions of power who sleep their way to the top while the women with whom they are sleeping often find themselves on the bottom – literally and figuratively. “If you’re a female, especially in a city like DC, and you want a promotion, you sleep with people,” Fine Girl told us and then added, “I never wanted a promotion.” “Me neither,” Calling The Dog replied. “I haven’t wanted one for a couple of years,” I told them.

 

As I quickly thought back through the years, I realized I never wanted a promotion and this was evidenced by the individuals with whom I was ‘interviewed.’ “Actually, now that I think about it,” I told them, “I’ve never been in a ‘position’ to sleep my way to the top. As a result, I just keep sleeping my way to the bottom. Snooze button optional.”