Author: grigiogirl

Received an invitation to join FatGirl, Tree and Bias(s) at the symphony. They wanted to start the evening off right, so we decided to meet at my house for a drink prelude. Joining us for the prelude were Dr. BJ, Passed The Sniff Test and Skirt Chaser.

A few nights previous, Dr. BJ and I were discussing Gwyneth Paltrow’s cameo performance on Glee, which included cartwheel activity. I speculated that someone may have doubled for her because cartwheels aren’t easy. Dr. BJ disputed this claim, “Cartwheels are totally easy – everybody can do cartwheels.” We went back and forth on this topic and I shut it down by challenging Dr. BJ to do a cartwheel. “I’ll do one, I’m not ascared,” he informed me. “I just can’t do one right now, I’ve been drinking.”

The next night, as soon as Dr. BJ came home from work, I pulled out my phone, hit record and rolled, literally. Luckily, Dr. BJ was true to his word (and form), so I did as I promised: popped the cork, poured him a glass, and uploaded the videos to youtube.

We were sharing the videos with the boys when Dr. BJ decided to test all of their cartwheeling skills. Turns (cartwheel pun) out they are really good at cartwheels. Who knew?

The symphony started at eight and, at about 7:50, Tree, FatGirl, Bias(s) and I decided we had better get going – especially since we needed to hit the drive-thru for a nice meal. In honor of my new beau, Carl, we went to Carl’s Jr. As we were finishing our entrees, FatGirl was doing his best to find parking. Tree started teasing and poking FatGirl, which is usually something FatGirl does to Tree. I reminded them that the last time they did this someone ended up in a seedy motel. “It’s always my fault,” said FatGirl. “Only when it is,” Tree quipped.

We were approaching a red light when Tree excitedly asked, “Did you see that?” “What?” FatGirl and I responded in unison. “That guy was hitting on me from three cars away!” We didn’t see it and I’m not sure ‘that guy’ did either.

Once we finally made it to the symphony, we were told we would have to wait until intermission to enter the concert hall. As we sat in the lobby and listened to the music, we decided to Bach (aka, balk) the opportunity to listen to Bruckner’s ninth and last symphony and instead went to the bars. A simple transition, really, Brucknear. Looks like yogurt will have to remain my one and only source of culture.

Weight is an interesting beast. It has the ability to really mess with one’s sense of self, often influences one’s opinion of others, and longitudinal studies have shown that with a lot of it comes a lot of purple (source: GrigioGirl).

 

I was a late bloomer with high metabolism so I was pretty thin throughout high school and for several years after. To this day, I remember a couple of weight related comments made to me by strangers. “You’re so thin, you make me sick.” It is nice to have that much power over someone’s health. How does one respond to that? I opted for, “Thanks, I have cancer and it’s terminal.”  My other favorite was, while enjoying my time at a party full of underage drinkers (me included) and sporting some of my favorite dance moves (unfortunately I had not yet trademarked the hobot), a brother came up to me and said, “Girl, you ain’t got no booty or sunshine.” He was right, but he really jacked my moment. When you’re wearing an A cup bra and have a tortilla ass, you already know your situation – having others tell you doesn’t help.

 

Fast forward a few years later and I find myself surrounded by beautiful women and men who are constantly consumed by their weight. The other day a friend was mentioning she had lost 19.5 pounds over the last month and only had .5 to go to get to her goal: 120 pounds. “120 pounds, wow,” I commented, “I haven’t weighed 120 since I lied about it on my driver license.”

 

There are a lot of things we lose in life that we never find again. Examples include socks, earrings, money, virginity,friends, loved ones and patience. Weight, however, is something most of us find again and, like so many things we’ve lost and found, we usually find it in those hard-to-reach, never would have thought to look  places; like our backs or our knees. In many cases, we end up with more than we had before – which is typically preferred in every situation but body weight. And, yes, we can have Botox and lipo, but that stuff is just not for me (but don’t let this keep you from inviting me to the Botox parties, OregganO and I love the cheese and wine). Personally, I would much rather be old and well-grooved than new and improved.

 

So, as I lift my glass and appreciate the softness of my cushiony ass, I’d like to make a toast (with loads of butter and cinnamon sugar), “Embrace life and dessert now – sunshine, booty or tortilla ass, enjoy your wobbly bits and little tits or big tits with wobbly bits – life continues on, no matter your size, so stop weighting for it!”

As has become our morning tradition, Dr. BJ peeked his head in my room this morning to wake me, “Good morning!” He pleasantly greeted me and continued, “Wow – not only are you in your bed, but you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed – that doesn’t happen very often!” “Good morning,” I groaned while doing my signature one-arm stretch. “Yes, I’m an equality opportunity sleeper and I give both sides of the bed a chance.”

It was at this exact time that a faint bzzzzzzz was heard. “Do I hear something vibrating?” asked Dr. BJ. “Yes,” I giggled and pointed over to the nightstand, “Over there.” “I keep mine on the side of the bed too,” stated Dr. BJ, “but I at least put it in a drawer.” I laughed a little more, then I reached over, hit ‘snooze’ on my alarm clock, and the buzzing stopped.

 

This little exchange reminded me of a story Patty Melt shared with OregganO and I while at our holiday hosting class. Apparently, her dad stayed at her house for a few days while she was on vacation. When she returned, she realized she had left  her vibrator out, next to her toothbrush, the entire time.

 

Patty Melt’s story sparked a very recent memory for OregganO. “Don’t mind that when we were there (at Patty Melt’s house) the other night, Cream Of Tartar decided to take a shower after a long day of fishing with Bus Driver. When we were driving home he told me your vibrator was in the bathtub.” “Oh, yeah, I know,” said Patty Melt, “If I had known he was going to shower, I would have put it away.” “Where is away?” I asked. “Next to the toothbrush,” Patty Melt quipped.

Two weeks ago Dr. BJ and I were invited to That’s Not Chinese’s house for dinner. She made soup and I brought homemade rolls. As the soup was disappearing from our bowls, the rolls were disappearing from the platter. I had about two bits of soup left, so I took the last roll (which was actually only half of a roll and it had been sitting there for some time) and thoroughly enjoyed my last two dips.

A few minutes later, Dr. BJ asked, with great disappointment and shock, “Who ate the last roll?” That’s Not Chinese totally rolled on me, “She did!” It was as if she had been waiting, with great anticipation, to share the intelligence she had gathered at the dinner table turned crime scene. I had no idea I was dining with the Last Piece Police.

About a week or so later, Passed The Sniff Test, OregganO, Dr. BJ and I were enjoying adult beverages and were a bit hungry. I brought out a relatively new package of Nutter Butters and, within about 15 minutes, there were only two cookies left. “I dare either of you to eat those last two,” I challenged OregganO and Passed The Sniff Test, “Dr. BJ and That’s Not Chinese are the Last Piece Police and neither one is afraid to call you out.” Dr. BJ confirmed this with a, “mmmm hmmmm.” Passed The Sniff Test smuggly picked up the second to last cookie and savored each bite (all two) while Dr. BJ observed.

The last cookie sat lonely in the large, close-to-empty tray for two long days. Lonely, that is, until OregganO had the courage to break it in half and share it with me. Within seconds of consumption we realized we needed to get rid of the evidence and did so by putting the tray in the recycling bin – yes, the one in the rear.

A few nights later, Dr. BJ and I were again invited to That’s Not Chinese’s house for dinner. On the menu: Sloppy Joe’s and tater tots. We had all enjoyed a lovely first serving of both when I decided I might like a few more tots. Upon entering the kitchen I quickly observed there weren’t many tots left. I took six – yes, I counted them – and returned to the table/crime scene with a full report, “If either of you want more tots, there are seven remaining.” “Good to know,” said Dr. BJ. “Are you serious?” That’s Not Chinese remarked, “You counted them?!?!” “Are you serious?” I retorted, “There is no way I’m getting implicated by the Last Piece Police!” “Mmmm hmmmm,” said Dr. BJ as he piled the last seven tots on his plate, “She (being me) is not going to let you roll on her – not again, anyway.”

Based on the high volume of friends/family and holiday parties we host, OregganO, Patty Melt and I decided to attend a Holiday Hosting class at Pottery Barn. We stopped at a favorite eatery for breakfast so we would be good and fueled for learning. After breakfast, we followed Patty Melt to the shopping district. Patty Melt took us on a lovely route, toggling between streets in an upscale neighborhood.

Once we reached our destination, Patty Melt stated, “I love that area! Did you guys see that lady running with her bagel? I want to be her!” “But you don’t run,” OregganO retorted. “Right,” I piped in, “And why do you want to be her? Who likes running and, more importantly, why would you run with a bagel? Did she steal it?” “Not a bagel, a beagle,” Patty Melt corrected me, “The lady was running with her beagle.” “Huh. Really posh lady?” I asked. “Yes,” Patty Melt answered.

We were a bit early arriving to the class, so I decided to use the making room room. While in there, I became intrigued by a small accent table in the corner. It wasn’t so much the table that intrigued me as it was the breadboard shelf above the drawers.

I was excited to show OregganO and Patty Melt my little find. We returned to the making room room to find two things: my little find and the faucet running. I’m not incapable of doing certain things, but there are certain things that make me incapable. Auto-sensor features and baristas are a few examples. I get so used to someone else or a ‘machine’ doing these things for me that I often forget how/to do it myself. We shut off the water and then focused our attention on the side table. “Check out this top feature,” I said while pointing out the breadboard, “What would one do with this – especially in the making room room? Coke?” Both Patty Melt and OregganO agreed there would be no other purpose for having something like this in the making room room side table.

After learning to be hosts, I decided to just do a bagel and beer run for my next holiday party – forget about all of those place settings and fancy menu items. OregganO were sipping wine discussing all we had learned and I, being a gracious guest, asked where she kept her recycling, “In the back bin. I like to recycle in the rear,” she replied. Recycling in the rear will definitely earn her ‘hostess with the mostest’ status, with or without a beagle, or a bagel.

A lot of people ponder why certain things happen, more specifically, why certain things happen to them. I wondered that about my herpe. Mostly because I know I didn’t do anything ‘fun’ to get it. Due to the fact that my herpe was so big, in my eyes it was huge – men love my eyes – I decided to name it: Carl. Simplex the First was a consideration, but the Carl’s Jr slogan, ‘If it doesn’t get all over the place, it doesn’t belong in your face,’ kept coming to mind. Herpes seem like the kind of thing that get all over the place.

 

After multiple topical applications, I received a text from The Responsible One inviting me to join her, Drink Whisperer, and some friends at a karaoke bar. This wasn’t just any karaoke bar, so I rubbed in my topical cream and made my way.

 

This karaoke bar had a magician (I Y Q and I work for tips), a karaoke performer who toots his own horn (literally, the man brings in a horn for certain songs), and an individual who does karaoke in sign language. “I’d like to hear that,” was Passed The Sniff Test’s comment when I told him about the latter.

 

Upon arriving, Drink Whisperer shared a story about a recent and frequent occurrence. “When I’m at the urinal, I keep noticing the other guys staring at my junk. So, I came up with a one liner to address it.” “What is it?” we all asked with anticipation. “I know,” Drink Whisperer proudly stated, “I say ‘I know’ and it just leaves them hangin’, literally.” “The nice thing about that statement is it can apply to both big and small,” I interjected. “I know,” Drink Whisperer loudly whispered back.

 

A little while later Drink Whisperer excused himself from the table, went to the making room room and returned with a concern. “Does anyone speak Russian?” Drink Whisperer asked and continued, “I just had that same thing happen in the bathroom but the guy was Russian and I need to know how to say ‘I know’ in Russian.” I quickly Googled this information for Drink Whisper. “Ya znayu?” replied Drink Whisperer, “I like that. Can you please write that down somewhere so I can remember it?”

 

As the night was ending and the bar was closing one of the patrons, who most likely used a fake ID to get in, was chatting it up with me. The magician had come to our table and Drink Whisperer had tipped him so he would stick around and do magic tricks. The young one with fake ID leaned in near me and said, “This magic is great and we could sit here and watch it or we could go make out.” Wow. Even in high school I don’t believe I ever got asked to ‘go make out.’ I politely replied, “No thank you. I’ve got a herpe.” “What?” he replied. “I have a herpe, on my lip,” I repeated. “Why would you say something like that to me?” he asked. “Because, I have a herpe,” I reiterated and pointed to Carl, “This is not something I intend to give to anyone.”

 

After he finally left, The Responsible One apologized to me, “I’m so sorry and so embarrassed. I can’t believe he did that.” “It’s OK,” I  replied, “Ya znayu. I couldn’t figure out how or why I had this herpe and now, ya znayu. I have it so I don’t have to make out with him.”

Hair has been a major topic of conversation for Dr. BJ and I lately. Of particular interest has been hair accessories. We were watching a documentary when I noticed one of the people being interviewed was donning an accessory from the ’80s. “She has a banana clip,” I noted. “She ain’t afraid of nothing,” commented Dr. BJ, “She’s brave enough to wear that?!?! Mmmm hmmm. Afraid of nothing!”

The very next day Dr. BJ returned from the barber. He is in the process of growing dreadlocks and is sporting a bit of a ‘fro right now. We were sitting around the table enjoying wine with OregganO and Passed The Sniff Test when Dr. BJ pulled a pick out of his pocket, stuck it in his hair and asked me, “Do you have a pick with a ‘Black Power’ fist on the end of it?” He could tell by the expression on my face that the answer was ‘no,’ but he continued, “You have everything. I thought maybe you could pull one out of your box.” The ‘costume’ part of box is implied.

Speaking of, as FatGirl would say, I woke up to find what I thought was an allergic reaction is actually a herpe which has decided to camp out on the right side of my lower lip. Dr. BJ comforted me by first responding to the sight of it, “Oh my, poor thing,” and then telling me he fully supported me.

I’ve never had a herpe before and definitely prefer to refer to it as a cold sore. I purchased a topical cream and had been applying it heavily in an attempt to shut that bad boy down quick. This approach made drinking difficult. Dr. BJ suggested I drink from only one side of my mouth, which seemed to work. To show support, OregganO also drank from one side of her mouth. I decided this moment should be complimented with Julie London singing jazz.  OregganO agreed and asked if it was a new CD. “New to me today,” I proudly replied, “Just got it from the library.” OregganO quipped, “Is there anything you can’t get from the library? Clearly you even get herpes there.” Colloquially speaking, one can get things from the library, but I usually just check them out, and I plan to check out  a book on herpes very soon.

A while back I met someone who I found attractive, funny and smart. He had a job and was dressed ‘nice,’ which is not always a common find for me – especially to find both at the same time. Luckily, he also enjoyed my company and invited me to hang out with him. Dr. BJ suggested I invite him to the stoop for a ‘screening.’ Part of the need for the screening was to serve background check purposes. I didn’t know much about him, but he dressed well and was funny, so I wasn’t sure if he was gay or foreign or if I had hit the motherlode. Dr. BJ assured me he could provide a full assessment.

Both OregganO and Dr. BJ were at the house when the doorbell rang and I wanted to sneak out the back door. This gangsta showed up full-on wangsta. Sideways bill beanie, oversized logo-ed hoodie, baggy jeans, and large white sneakers. Let me preface this with, I’m an asshole, but there was no way in hell I would be going anywhere in public with this wangsta. I was already struggling with the fact that my neighbors, Dr. BJ and OregganO had seen him enter my home. Truth be told, I cannot even stomach doing the deed with him – even if he and I were the only two who ever knew his dream came true.

Fast forward a couple days later and I’m chatting with Nice Car, someone who knows Wangsta very well. Apparently, even Nice Car had reservations about Wangsta and instead of a background check, Nice Car was aware of a foreground reject. Apparently, several years ago, Wangsta submitted pictures to Playgirl and was respectfully declined. Not buff or  big enough. Not only did they not see wangsta, they didn’t see wank, sir.

I’ve had the privilege of sleeping in a variety of places lately – different cities, countries and sleeping devices. Now that I’m home for a bit, I’ve decided to continue this practice. So, I’ve been sleeping in several different ‘regions’ of my home. This has proved to be a bit of a challenge for Dr. BJ, who wakes me each day with a pleasant ‘good morning.’ He typically starts in my bedroom and, if he gets no response or if I’m not readily visible, he moves on to the next possible location.

A few nights ago I opted to watch “Where the Red Fern Grows’ before going to bed. I had remembered the movie to be much more engaging than it was and, because it was late, I was having trouble staying awake. I eventually resigned to my body’s desire and fell asleep on the couch. I had scooted into the back of the couch, essentially spooning with the back and bottom pillows for warmth and comfort.

When Dr. BJ started looking for me in the morning, he didn’t see me at first, and then, I did my signature wake up move. This is a move in which I bend my left arm, bringing my hand near my face, then lifting my arm until my bend is above my head, at which point I release the bend, extend my entire arm into the air as if I am pushing the air out of my way, and then, with a scratchy resonance, I reply, “Good morning.” Dr. BJ’s response on this day, “There’s that arm!”

When I returned home from work on this fine day I called out, “Hello….anyone home?” Dr. BJ emerged from the dining room and then Passed The Sniff Test peeked around the door. “What a surprise,” I told them, “it is good to see both of you.” “If this surprised you then you would have been really surprised if we had done what he suggested,” Dr. BJ said while gesturing toward Passed The Sniff Test. He could tell I wanted to hear his suggestion, so he started talking, “I thought it would be funny if we took off all of our clothes and were just hanging out naked when you got home.” That definitely would have surprised me.

As the night progressed I was telling them about my movie watching the night before. “Sounds like ‘Old Yeller’,” Passed The Sniff Test commented, “Why do kids need to watch all of these movies about dogs dying?” “To teach them life lessons,” I answered. “For example, a red fern grew between Old Dan and Little Ann’s burial spots. According to Indian legend, only angels can plant a red fern and the area where it grows is sacred.” Dr. BJ exclaimed, “That explains why I’ve got a red fern growing in between my legs.” “Is that a red fern?” I replied, “I thought it was a misplaced arm.”

One of my favorite work activities is traveling with Juicy PSI and Extra Eight Years. Every few months, in this case eighteen months, we travel to the central part of the state to meet with a captive audience. If ever asked to describe it, I tell people, “I liken it to Bob Hope and the USO shows. This gig is pretty much the same concept. In fact, I would go so far as to say it is exactly the same while being entirely different.”

Extra Eight Years always drives and, as Juicy PSI commented, “does his best driving when he is exceeding speed limits, has a Coke in one hand, and his phone in the other.” As we turned on to the onramp we were ‘joined’ by another vehicle (truck pulling a extended fifth wheel). The lanes merged quickly and, as they did so and as Extra Eight Years realized he didn’t have much time to avoid being consumed by the other vehicle, Extra Eight Years announced, “Ok, here we go, my first illegal move.” And we were off, and in front!

The stories shared by Juicy PSI and Extra Eight Years are always stellar. On this particular journey, we were discussing coworkers. Not just any coworkers, only those who made an impression and, in this case, not a good one. Juicy PSI was sharing a story involving some embarrassing information and disclaimed, “He told me not to say anything to anyone, so I’m telling you guys.” It is times like this that being a ‘nobody’ is good. A few stories later, Juicy PSI made an observation, “Let’s see, so far I’ve said something nice about no one.” Neither Extra Eight Years or I had noticed – nor did we care.

Extra Eight Years shared a story about a meeting in which a situation on an Indian reservation was being discussed. One of the individuals in the meeting, on several occasions, proudly used this opportunity to educate others, “It is because they are a Solvent nation.” Sovereign, Solvent. Tomato, Toma-toe.

Halfway to our destination we stopped to eat at a local diner. Our ‘favorite’ diner had closed down, which meant none of us would be ordering roast beff or parlines and cream (the spelling errors added to the ambiance of the the diner). Luckily, this diner had charm of it’s own. As we walked in, we saw a dry erase board poised next to the cash register. Across the top it read, “Special”, underneath that, nothing. “The special looks good,” I told Juicy PSI. “Definitely low-cal,” she replied.

We got to our table and found another charming feature – you phone -in your order from the table and they ‘ring’ you when it is ready. As we perused the menu, Juicy PSI expressed concern, “I really want the Monte Cristo, but the description, ‘heavy hunk of steamin’ junk’ is disturbing.” After much discussion, she decided to go ahead and get it.

I got the privilege of placing the order, which was fraught with frustration on the part of the ‘waitress’. In attempt to lighten the mood, I asked about the special. “We don’t have one,” she curtly replied. “Huh,” I said and we (waitress not included) giggled like school kids.  Just prior to hanging up – translation: the waitress hanging up on me – she instructed, “Pick up your own drinks.” “I’m pretty sure our food will have, at a minimum, spit on it,” I told Extra Eight Years and Juicy PSI. “Yeah, I can imagine the conversation they’re having right now,” said Extra Eight Years, “‘You recognize those people Hank?’ ‘I recognize ’em alright, recognize ’em as outsiders.'”

Several hours later we were making our way back from our version of Bob Hope and American Variety’s, ‘On the Road,’ when Extra Eight Years threw his hands up in the air and proclaimed, “Who needs hands for driving? Not me, I’m hands free.” As I mentioned earlier, I’m pretty sure we got more than spit on our food at the diner.