Author: grigiogirl

Every now and again I take a few minutes to read and, subsequently, edit my blog entries. I often blog late at night – or early in the morning depending on how you look at it – and, turns out, I make little to no sense. It is as if I type a different dialect of English, one that not even I can understand. It is almost like I type Canadian.

Nonetheless, I carry on. Just a typing away about what went on throughout my day. It’s thanks to people like Ricky on Trailer Park Boys, who is Canadian and whose Rickyisms are regularly shared around the water cooler, that I have the strength and courage to carry on with my blogging.

What I can’t continue to carry, however, are these melons. Unlike NPR’s Cameron Lawrence, I am not savoring the melon season. And, unlike Kelis, my milkshake is not bringing all the boys to the yard. Like Dolly Parton, however, everyone can tell if I’ve gone running, because I’ve got two black eyes. And, like Phil Collins (also on Trailer Park Boys), shirts that were once an appropriate length are now belly shirts. Which makes me like Trailer Choir, rockin’ the beer gut.  

Seriously, my boobs have never been this big. I was sharing my predicament with Dr. BJ and showing him how I must sit or stand in order to relieve the pressure when he suggested I get a reduction. Having friends who have done this, I know I won’t qualify. Instead, I think I’m going to find someone who is willing to hold them up for me throughout the day. This would be the perfect job for Hans Delving and his partner Otto Titzling. No need for Philippe de Brassiere to join them, I fill it up well enough on my own.

Had a board (game) meeting at work today. Mid-meeting, one of the board members announced, “The last two times I lost at Boggle, I ended up pregnant.” The competitor in me kicked in and I said, “I sure hope I win today.” “I kid you not,” she continued, “I was playing one night, lost, and thought to myself, ‘what is going on?’ The next morning I went straight to my doctor’s office and, sure enough, pregnant.” The other board member was struggling with the game/meeting and the fact that she had the hiccups. “I haven’t had hiccups like this since before the recession – no lie, budget cuts and hiccups are most commonly consecutive.” So many interesting corelations. All in all, the meeting ended well and no one got pregnant.

After a long day of board meetings, missed pregnancies and hiccups, I headed home. I was driving my usual route, which includes a library stop (“Where the Red Fern Grows” would soon be in my hands – woot!), when I noticed I still had my work badge/lanyard around my neck. As I pulled it off/over my head, the cowl neck of my dress lifted up with it – completely covering my face and blocking my view. I squeeled like FatGirl did when the bee flew near him, and then quickly resolved the situation. I did not want to end up like Old Dan and Little Ann.

After this near death experience, I met up with OregganO and Dr. BJ for more house hunting. We only had a few houses to hunt, which was good because we were all very hungry. As we discussed dining options, Dr. BJ stated, “Even though it’s a school night, I’m game for going out for a bit.” Always good to have a responsible one in the mix – I can guarantee OregganO and I would not and have not let school get in the way of our outings.

We opted for sushi and, once we started ordering, Dr. BJ had a question for the waitress, “What is in the sweet potato roll?” She replied, “Sweet potato.” I encouraged him to then ask what was in the tuna and cucumber roll, the avocado roll, and so on. The waitress walked away and Dr. BJ pondered, out loud, about another one of the rolls, “I wonder what is in the Alaska roll.” “Maybe Sarah Palin,” I replied. “Ew! I don’t want her tuna!” he exclaimed.

We were seated at the bar and there were several sushi boats on the counter in front of us. OregganO quickly became very fond of the sushi boats. “I really want one of these boats. How big is your purse?” Like clockwork, we both started looking around the restaurant for cameras. “Oh my god!” Dr. BJ shouted, “Are you guys casing the joint?” OregganO replied, “Strange. No one has ever asked me that.” “Me neither,” I added, “especially on a school night.”

Fast forward to the next morning and Dr. BJ is providing me my morning greeting – only one thing could make this better: Drake bringing my tray and Mrs. Pugh taking it away. “So,” Dr. BJ asks me while I am still tucked deep in the bowels of my bed, “what time did you and OregganO finally call it a night?” “2:15,” I mumble. “2:15?!?!?” Dr. BJ says while dressed like or as he put it ‘channeling Mr. Schue(ster) from Glee’, “On a school night, oh my!”

Being that we had an extra hour today (daylight savings), Dr. BJ and I decided to invite That’s Not Chinese and Tree over for brunch. I was excited to make them German pancakes, so I preheated the oven, got the ingredients ready and then tried to open the oven door – to no avail. Turns out it was locked. I bought the oven ‘used’ several years ago and the latch has never locked. As a result, I’ve never benefited from the self-cleaning feature.

After several attempts to open the oven door, I broke the news to Dr. BJ and That’s Not Chinese. “I’m telling you,” Dr. BJ said with great confidence, “It’s Agnes.” The oven definitely seems to be spirited in some ways. Every now and again the interior light starts flashing, as if someone is hosting a disco inside. Today, however, there was no disco, the oven was on lockdown. We discussed moving brunch to That’s Not Chinese’ house, but I refused to let Agnes win. “We’ll just do scrambled eggs on the stove top,” I declared. “And, while the oven is locked, I think I’ll go ahead and clean it.” Dr. BJ and I selected the ‘Clean Oven’ option, watched the timer begin, and walked away.

That’s Not Chinese left to retrieve Tree and Dr. BJ and I decided we should start cooking the eggs. We returned to the kitchen to find the oven was no longer in clean mode and the door was still latched locked. “Agnes is really messing with you today,” Dr. BJ noted. We decided, again, not to let her win and began disassembling the oven door. Within minutes, the door was unlatched. Unfortunately, we could not figure out how to do reassemble the door. Fortunately, the retro meets modern look is really growing on us and the pancakes were delicious.

That’s Not Chinese was in charge of mimosas and kindly asked each of us, “Orange juice or champagne?” With the exception of That’s Not Chinese, we all had both orange juice and champagne. Last I checked, a mimosa is juice (typically orange) and champagne. If a mimosa was champagne alone, wouldn’t one just call it champagne? How quickly I forget our brunch last March.

We had finished breakfast and decided to open the second bottle of champagne. Popping the cork is a job normally designated to That’s Not Chinese. She had assumed her responsibility, and was chatting with us while doing so, when all of a sudden the cork flew out of the bottle, hit the chandelier, ricocheted off the wall and landed safely on the floor. That’s Not Chinese was dumbfounded, “I let it slip through my hands. I never let it slip through my hands and, it just shot out.” “That happens a lot,” Dr. BJ responded and then looked at me and said, “BW.”

Spent a good portion of the day house hunting with Dr. BJ and OregganO. As has become the custom, I navigate (by request of OregganO) from the back seat. I was doing my job, looking at the address on the list and telling it to OregganO, when I noticed a cord sticking out of her stereo. Like a grade school kid, I was curious, and asked what it was. “You don’t know what this is?” Dr. BJ responded, “It’s a cord for your iPod or your phone so you can play music through the car speakers.” Thankfully, Dr. BJ provided a grade school answer for me; however, even with that  level of response, OregganO could tell I was still perplexed. “Don’t you have an iPod?” Dr. BJ then asked. “No,” OregganO quickly responded, “She doesn’t. Let’s keep the GPS system in the glove box for now, I don’t want to overwhelm her with technology.”

Is a car door considered technology? I ask, because a little while later we were leaving one of our destinations, my body had just barely entered the vehicle, the door was clearly ‘ajar’, and OregganO began driving. They both found this very humorous and it was at this point I wished I did own an iPod so I could drown out their laughter – when you’re the only one in the backseat, it’s easy to feel like a third tit, the infamous supernumerary nipple (that was for you Beau-D).

After the door incident, we were walking through another prospective home that had recently been renovated. “I just love the smell of new carpet,” Dr. BJ exclaimed. Like a good third tit, I immediately responded, “I had a feeling, that’s why I haven’t shaved for a while.” He said nothing with his mouth, but his face spoke volumes.

Later that night we had the privilege of hanging out with Good Eye Money Guy, If You Don’t Want It I’ll Drink It, BeauD, Passed The Sniff Test and a few other friends. Good Eye Money Guy just had hip surgery and was sharing the pros and cons of having crutches. He started discussing his JFK terminal trek when he name dropped a few aircrafts, “The jetway was clearly set up for an A380 and not a CRJ200.” “OK world traveler,” Beau-D interjected, “maybe you could speak in terms we all understand. By the way, when are we going to South Africa? And, do you have your vaccinations? I hear the gluteus injection is a hard one.” We all laughed a bit and Beau-D continued, “It’s true, you have to get a shot in your gluteus maximus and I hear it’s like peanut butter.” This was getting better by the minute. Good Eye Money Guy retorted, “Maybe you could speak in terms we all understand?”

Fast forward several hours and the last of the die-hards, Dr. BJ, Passed The Sniff Test and I, were on the stoop, wrapping up a stellar day. Based on Dr. BJ’s balance and chattiness I suspected he might be drunk. “Are you drunk?” I asked him. “I think I might be,” he replied and added, “I’m going to text Disdain and I’m just going to say ‘hey’.” Yes, he was drunk. He did so and Disdain responded with, “Hey”. Dr. BJ followed up with “Hey! What are you doing?” Disdain replied, “Having hot chocolate with Mark.” Dr. BJ, in proper drunk form, followed up with a drunk dial. “Hey! What are you doing?” Disdain patiently and kindly responded, “Having hot chocolate with Mark.” Passed The Sniff Test and I were quite enjoying the exchange. “It’s times like this,” I told him, “That I really love being the third tit.”

Two Stamps and I attended the Men’s Golf Association dinner tonight and, as we were making our way, she informed me she planned to announce to everyone that I am next year’s beer cart girl. As we were driving we were discussing who would be in attendance and joking about the club where the dinner was being held. The long standing joke about this club is that the people who frequent it are 90 and older. Area Man and I were there about two years ago and decided there is one thing would make it better: a residential retirement center next door, so the patrons wouldn’t have to go too far to get home.

Two Stamps was telling me there really wouldn’t  be any dating prospects at the dinner and followed it up with, “Why date the customers when you can sleep with the pro?” Two Stamps runs the cafeteria at a golf course and, through this experience, has met and gotten to know, very well, one of the pros. I asked if he would be at the dinner and she replied, “No, but he wants me to stop by after – he said he needs two stamps.” Clever approach, throwing out the need for postal currency in an attempt to spork with Two Stamps. Even more clever if he requests the Forever stamps – Two Stamps will forever more be meeting his postal needs, even if he isn’t her beau, the man is truly a pro. No?

Dr. BJ and I were at the grocery store the other day and, just as we were walking in, we saw a black man. Not a common occurence in this town – it is a lot like like Llanddewi Brefi and Dr. BJ is Daffyd – the only (black) ‘gayer’ in the village. I had made my way to the produce section when I saw, yet again, two more black men. Dr. BJ was quick to catch up with me and said, “Did you see those two checking you out? ‘The Brown’ are down with the round.” I politely replied, “Thank you for pointing that out Dr. BJ. I must inform you that before you I didn’t see color. Literally, I rarely if ever saw people of color in this little village.”

A few days later I was laying in bed when Dr. BJ came in to wish me a good morning before hopping in the shower, “Good morning! If you want to come in and blow dry your hair or do anything else while I’m in the shower, that’s fine – we can have a moment, a first time – we’ve never done anything like that.” I thanked him for his kindness and told him I would pass on sharing ‘the three s’ (shit, shower and shave).

S-Unit phoned me later that day and was telling me about her Dallas adventure. She was in Dallas on business and had hoped to meet a Texas Tycoon on the plane. As she held her zone 6 boarding pass and perused the other passengers she realized her hopes might not come to fruition. She did, however, see a lovely olive skinned prospect who, as luck would have it, was seated next to her on the plane. She wanted to speak to him the entire flight, but only mustered the courage during the last thirty minutes. He was shy, smart, sexy (another lovely three s combo), and from Brazil. “I just love those Latin lovers,” S-Unit exclaimed. “You are down with the brown,” I replied. “What is his name? Did you exchange numbers?” “His name is Pedro and I didn’t get his number. I tried to Google him, but I couldn’t find anything.” I was intrigued by the latter part of her response. “You tried to Google him? What was the subject line of your search?” She giggled and replied, “Pedro.” I’m afraid S-Unit may not get down with this brown.

Today was packed full of great comments. The magic started when MissInformation and I were looking at a website about Alison Arngrim and, subsequently, ended up watching one of her recent interviews. She was discussing her book and role as Nellie and told the reporter, “I’m weirdly grateful to have played the bitch all this time.” Later in the interview the reporter asked her about Michael Landon and she replied, “He was very much like Charles Ingalls, except when he wasn’t.”

After that magic, MissInformation and I went to a meeting with some rather entertaining colleagues. Eight Extra Years was sharing comments made by some of his clients and we were all having a laugh. For example, when asking historical information a client replied, “I’m half white, half Canadian and proud of both.” Go Canada, eh! When asking another client about his family he stated, “My mother is like the brother I never had.” Who hasn’t felt that way? Someone with a brother, I guess.

As the meeting went on I found we made just as profound statements. We are in the midst of planning an annual event and Eight Extra Years advised us, “You don’t bring in people if you don’t draw a crowd.” A few minutes later, Calling The Dog shared some concerns and frustrations, “What’s not happening, that should be happening, well, I have no clue.” I then attempted to console her, “If you don’t know, you don’t know.” Pretty powerful stuff.

I stopped by OregganO’s and the magic continued. She was telling me a story about a friend and finished it with, “Whatever he had, he said he had it.” The stories were flowing, as was the wine in our glasses, “I really like the sound of pouring wine.” I agreed and wondered if other beverages had a different sound when being poured. As our time together was coming to an end, she looked at me with great intensity and said, “This is going to be really weird….” Just a side note, a preface like this will make something really weird, really quick. “….but, do you like eggnog, with whiskey? Or minus the whiskey. I just figured it is the holiday season and all.” She poured us each a small Dixie cup of holiday magic, took a sip and said, “It’s as good as I remember.” “It is good, has it been a year since you had it?” I asked. “No,” she replied, “we had some a couple nights ago.”

I had every intention to sleep in this morning, take my daily dose of ‘taking my time’ to get going, when I remembered I actually had appointments and meetings that could not be handled bedside. So, I got up, and went to work.

My first appointment arrived just shortly after I did and I thought it would be nice to offer him a cup of coffee, truth be told, I really wanted a cup. We went to the breakroom to find the coffee pot was empty. This is not typical in my office. The pot brewed at 8 is still full (at least partially) at 2. But then, I’m usually able to actually get in my office once I make it through the security clearances. Today, however, in addition to arriving to find no coffee, I found my office door was locked – which presented a problem, because I don’t have a key. I may have been better off staying in bed or just driving by the office and honking and waving.

Fru Fru Pants picked me up for my next appointment and as we were driving there we got stuck in a construction zone. She reminded me of two other occasions when construction interfered with our route. On one occasion, we had bikes in the back of her truck so we opted to ditch the truck and ride the bikes. The other time she was in a hurry to get to our meeting and blew by an uncovered manhole (not what you’re thinking my gays). As she did so a construction worker popped his head out of the manhole and yelled, “Slow down lady!” She honked and waved. He flipped her off.

At the end of the day I was assisting with the election when one of the volunteers returned from off-site efforts. “I’m exhausted,” he said, “I’ve been doing the honk and wave all day.” Another volunteer responded, “The honk and wave is essential to the process.” Another volunteer piped in, “The success of a campaign is often attributed to the honk and wave.”

Until today, I didn’t realize the true power of the honk and wave. I’ve got the honk down, but I’m going to work on my wave – make it special. Maybe OregganO and I can feature this on our televised special. I’m hoping to make it my ‘thing’, my big talent. Beep, beep, elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist…….

That’s Not Chinese invited Dr. BJ and I to dinner at her house this evening. Upon arriving we found her on the stoop, in a plush red robe, rocking in the chair, drinking wine and smoking a cigarette. “Love the robe,” I told her. “Thank you,” she said and proudly added, “it’s my smoking jacket.”

Dr. BJ started telling us a story about an evening out with the boys when he ordered a drink prepared with Grey Goose. “You know what my experience with geese is?” That’s Not Chinese interjected, “don’t jump in an try and save them.” I know her experience with geese firsthand, as do many of the people who were at the park that lovely Mother’s day.

As we continued to talk, we brought up a friend who gets completely obsessed and crazy when in love, which doesn’t always work in his favor. “When he gets crazy, so does his lazy eye,” I said, while trying (with my hand) to make my eye go crazy. “Ah,” Dr. BJ replied, “The crazy lazy – dangerous place to be.”

Dr. Bj has a knack for trying to redirect when things get crazy and when that happened most recently he was outside, “I told everybody, ‘look at the moon.’ This is how we deal with issues in my family: distract, distract, distract.” It was at this point I pulled out my pen and paper to start writing down some of his comments because I was sure I wouldn’t remember all of them. “BW (blog worthy), eh,” he noted. “Oh good,” That’s Not Chinese stated, “I haven’t been in the blog for a while. I’ll have to read it tomorrow.” “Have you not been reading?” I asked. “Yes and no. I prefer to read it when I’m in it.” Then she got up and put on her plush red robe. “Smoking jacket?” I queried. “That’s right. Gotta wash it soon – it really absorbs the smoke.” Wine in hand, she made her way to the stoop for more rockin’ under the influence.

It seems like everybody has a free card the few days before and after Halloween. The free card provides a couple of benefits: 1) one is free to dress horribly and ‘get away with it’, 2) one is able to ask ‘Is that your costume?’ and not be considered rude.

There are some people I know who appear to believe everyday, or every casual Friday, is Halloween. You know who I’m talking about. These are the coworkers who haven’t updated their wardrobe for decades or the coworker who wears their ‘coolest’, aka lamest, t-shirt with a pair of jeans, or, this person is you.

I love dressing up and have made it a Halloween tradition to dress up with Add-ly and Cookie. These two women are hotties and are very clever when it comes to group costumes. Last year we did Three’s Company, this year Gilligan’s Island. Both years I got the role of the ‘older, less sexy woman’ – Mrs. Roper and Mrs. Howell. Dr. BJ asked if that bothered me. “No,” I replied, “it’s Halloween, it’s a costume. Besides, I’m sexy all year round, so it is nice to change it up every now and again.” It might go without saying that I have gone home alone the last two years. Not sure why, I personally find moo moos sexy – especially the open-back variety.

Dr. BJ and I were at the store on Halloween (which was celebrated early in this town) and one of the employees, who was dressed as some video game clown, noticed a coworker walking by in what could have been an everyday outfit, casual Friday outfit, an I’m off the clock and going out to get wasted outfit, or a costume. Some Video Game Clown did not skip a beat, turned to his coworker and said, “Is that your costume?” Free card – granted and redeemed!