Author: grigiogirl

Dr. BJ and I were asked to join Johnny Utah, Add-ly, Cookie, Sleepless, and Passed The Sniff Test in a group costume: Gilligan’s Island. As The Leaver might say, ‘this was not our first rodeo.’ Add-ly, Cookie and I have group costumed before with great success and this year was sure to be no different.

Add-ly and Cookie selected the group and got dibs on Ginger and Mary Ann. Dr.BJ and I got to be Thurston Howell III and Mrs. Lovey Howell. My costume boxes are full of all kinds of goodness, but one thing that wasn’t in them was a Lovey wig. I found a fine country diva wig and OregganO trimmed it just so. The clippings were scattered on the floor when Dr. BJ had a moment of sheer brilliance, “You should attach those to some granny panties, throw them on under your dress and, mid-party, flash everybody some Lovey bush.”

I had to work before the party, so I decided to send a text to Dr. BJ, “Did you glue my hair to my granny panties?” Unfortunately, he had not. So, after we were both in full costume, I hot glued the clippings to my best granny panties. I took a quick look in the mirror and noticed a slight bulge. “Thurston, is my bush bulging?” “Yes it is, Lovey, yes it is.”

We got to the party and, as planned, we were the hit. As Prince’s ‘Kiss’ was playing I did exactly as Dr. BJ suggested – the crowd was both shocked and pleased. “Who is that?” I overheard someone say. “I’m not sure, no, wait, it’s Mrs. Roper.” Yes, last year’s Mrs. Roper is this year’s Mrs. Flashing Howell.

All of this activity made me hungry so I headed to the kitchen for something to eat. I found Ginger (Add-Ly) and Thurston drinking out of their coconuts and discussing the fact that there was no food at the party. “I’m so hungry,” said Ginger, “We may have to order pizza.” “I’m surprised,” I said, “They had food last year.” Thurston adjusted his ascot slightly and moved in closer to Ginger and I and said, “It’s a recession Lovey, it’s a recession.” “I do forget sometimes Thurston and I should have known better. If it weren’t for the recession, I could have gotten a Brazilian.”

Worked at the furniture store today and decided I might want to buy a mattress. I extended an invitation to Dandini to lay on them with me in an attempt to select the best one. We were laying on the mattress I liked most and I asked Dandini how he felt about it, “It’s pretty soft,” he told me. “Is it too soft?” I asked. “Not really, I just like ’em a little stiff.” Just what I thought.

A little while later we went on a ‘second date’ to Taco Bell – a working together tradition. I was discussing recycling with him and posed a simple question, “Do you recycle?” “Of course I don’t recycle,” he quickly responded, “I’m republican.”

As I was balancing my cash drawer, Dandini joined me in the back room. “I just came in to tell you that I was totally planning on a third date with you back here, but they’ve got a camera on this room.” I reminded Dandini there were cameras in the mattress department and most likely at Taco Bell. I then thanked him for a lovely couple of dates and told him to watch for them on youtube.

D-Dog is in town and called to see if I might be able to hang out. As we were discussing options, we started reminiscing about previous times we have spent together. A lot of our time together takes place, late at night, in a piano bar. We quite enjoy this piano bar and have been known to spend several hours and several hundred dollars there. On one occasion, we were filmed by Butternut Squash, and later found we were on youtube. I must admit, it was a fabulous representation of the evening.

D-Dog had just watched the Rocky Horror Glee Show and was reminded of the time she and I did The Time Warp on stage at the piano bar. As soon as she mentioned it, I was also vividly reminded. “I’m glad that wasn’t filmed,” D-Dog stated. “Oh, it probably was,” I didn’t reassure her, “it’s probably on youtube and other parts of the world wide web.” “Well at least they don’t know who we are,” D-Dog responded. “No, not now,” I said, “but maybe they’ll figure it out if we run for office or something.” “Good point, huh,” D-Dog muttered while contemplating the realities of this idea. “I’m not too worried about it,” I told her, “everyone knows I don’t run for anything – not for office and, like YummYummy, not even for the ice cream truck.” “True,” D-Dog agreed, “but what if you are elected as a write-in?” “Definitely something to consider, but I don’t think being in the political position is the thing that will get me in trouble.” D-Dog quipped, “Right, it is probably the sexual position that will get you in trouble.”

Met with Oreggano after work today to plan our holiday gifts. Last year we made homemade gifts for everyone, including ourselves, and they were very well received (especially by us) so we decided to do it again. As we were discussing different ideas we came up with the second best idea we’ve ever had – a televised holiday special. Yes, we plan to do a talk show for the holidays.

 

Within seconds we had a director, camera girl, editor, host and co-host. We then came up with loads of ideas for the show. I’d share all of them with you, but I don’t want to give up your gift. I will, however, tease you with some of the guest ideas: unicyclist (preferably one who eats fire); tap dancer; someone who can finish a floor; hula hooping Italian; dog walkers; sidewalk chalkers; horse whisperers; handstanders; really good bed makers; regifters; Cajun man who talks funny, cooks really well and drinks a lot (preferably on set); a Brit speaking French in Russian; someone whose laugh makes Bowl Full of Jelly seem passe; ethnic person dancing to Sammy D Jr;  and a winking, good shoe-tie-er who keeps a secret. These guests will all most likely be in Act One. Act Two still has some openings.

 

Oreggano and I are confident it will be a hit and go viral very soon, most likely over night. It truly is an xtra special holitastic production. Holitastic, not to be confused with the holocaust.

Like many other mornings, I had the pleasure of having Dr. BJ peek his head in my room today and wish me a ‘good mornin’!’ By the time he did so, my alarm clock had been snoozed several times and I was as comfy as I could be in my bed, spoonin’ with my Euro pillows.

I decided to get out of bed and do some domesticatin’. I started by changing light bulbs and finished by makin’ freezer jam. Dr. BJ came into the kitchen to find me in my pajamas and corkscrew apron. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed. “Look at you. Light bulbin’, jammin’, apronin’ – and it’s not even 8 AM yet. I love it! You can never leave the house!” I told him I was soon to be takin’ garbarge to the trash and would be sure to be wavin’ to him curbside in full domestic goddess attire: wife beater, pajama bottoms, frye boots and an apron. I did so, and he loved it.

Later that day I met MyFace and Q for lunch. MyFace appears to have lost a lot of weight and mentioned, in fact, she has. We asked how she did it and she responded, “I stopped eatin’.” Well, that is definitely one way to do it. Q and I ordered an appetizer and then shared our lasted changes in weight. Q just had a baby, so she “just bought a larger jean size.” I just traveled out of state, so I’ve got France in my pants and I’m wearin’ the hell out of them! “This shits tighter than dick’s hatband.” I told them, “In fact, I’d go sor far as to say I’m spoonin’ with my pants, daily.”

It has been pouring rain lately so I decided it might be a good idea to replace my drain spout (I haven’t had a good spout for about two years). Sleepless and I went to the local hardware store where we were immediately greeted by the manager. He asked if he could help us find something and, coincidentally, we were by the bulbs (and I needed bulbs) so I told him we were looking for bulbs – three-way to be specific. “You want a three-way?” asked the manager. “Yes, yes I do, maybe two,” I replied. “Well do you want natural lighting or dimmed?” he followed up. So sweet of him to be so romantic long before we’ve reached the tile aisle.

We got the bulbs, flexible spout, and headed back to my house. Upon return, Sleepless and I took the flexible spout outside. After pulling the hose as hard as we could – in an attempt to maximize the returns – we tried attaching it to the existing spout. Unfortunately, it was not big enough. Looks like size does matter.

We went inside to share our dilemma with Dr. BJ and Passed The Sniff Test, but they both appeared to be more concerned about costume ideas for Friday night’s party (yes, Halloween party number two is coming up). After we searched ideas online for a bit, I decided to grab my costume boxes. Dr. BJ was excited, “I’ve got one of these at home, but I’ve never gone through anybody else’s box.” “Why thank you Dr. BJ – I appreciate the excitement you are experiencing in my box.” I responded, “If Tree finds out he’ll be so mad – he has wanted in this box forever!”

As Sleepless and Passed The Sniff Test perused the box they found an incredible pink tutu. Passed The Sniff Test decided to try it on and keep it on, “I’m man enough to wear a pink tutu.” He is and it did look nice with his Lamb of God t-shirt, cargo shorts and sneakers. “Ah, you look great in your tattoo,” Sleepless told him. “It’s not a tattoo,” he corrected her. “It’s a tutu.” “Tutu, tattoo, tomato,” I piped in.

A few photos later, Passed The Sniff Test was preparing to go home and, as he was leaving it was as if striptease  music was playing in his head. He took a quick glance around the room, whipped off the tutu and said, “Tata tutu!”

Yes, tata, tattoo, tutu, tomato, three-way, flexible hose, and my box(es). This rainy day and Monday definitely did not get us down. Tata!

Dr. BJ has decided he would like to be a homeowner, so we met up with OregganO today to take a look at a few houses in the area. As we were househunting there were several times when Dr. BJ and I were doing what we’ve been doing a lot lately, finishing each other’s sentences. “Stop saying what I’m saying,” Dr. BJ exclaimed. “Wow,” OregganO commented, “you guys are freaking me out a bit.” “Don’t be freaked out,” I advised her, “We decided a while back that we are exactly like a married couple – in addition to finishing each other’s sentences, we don’t have sex. We don’t even spoon.”

As we arrived to a prospective new residence for Dr. BJ we noticed a sparkly green van. “We have seen more kidnapper vans today thatn I’ve seen in a long time,” commented Dr. BJ. “Location, location, location,” I stated. “Ah, but this one has fuzzy dice,” OregganO pointed out, “Fuzzy dice make everything better.” The missing piece to my puzzle – fuzzy dice. I’m heading straight to the store to buy some.

Later in the evening we celebrated our househunting adventure by going to a concert. As we were leaving the concert I ran into Mini Sparkle Donut’s brother, Nutella Croissant. He was attending a burlesque show and invited us to join him. Prior to doing so, and just after I introduced him to Dr. BJ, Sleepless and Tree, he shared a story with everyone. “I’ll never forget how much she used to tease me when I was a kid. She’d always ask me, ‘do you have hair down there yet?’ It’s cool though – we made out last year at the family Christmas party. Closed mouth, but still.”

As the night progressed, Nutella Croissant and I were talking about his various skills (labor, not biblical). Several years ago he was a plumbing apprentice, so I asked if he had any interest in doing that again. “I plumb recreationally,” he said with his best make out with me at a family party face, “I’m all about laying the pipe down.” As we were dropping him off at his house he started singing to us, “Adieu, adieu, I really enjoyed spending time with all of you. Hey, did I mention to you what she used to ask me when I was a kid?” “Yes, you did,” we all answered. “And we now know you close mouth kiss and plumb recreationally.”

Attended a costume party at The Leaver (the blog artist formerly known as Left Me For Lenny) and QuQueen’s house. Coming up with a costume was difficult for me because I ‘dress up’ on a regular basis, so actually being asked to wear a costume seems a bit out of character for me. After much contemplation, and failing to secure a nude-colored unitard with footsies, I opted for a more simple costume: gangster.  The Leaver and QuQueen had decided to be Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace and needed a finishing touch: Jules Winnfield. Fade to black, literally, and in steps Dr. BJ. Number three in the combo.

We arrived to the party in full costume to find The Leaver wearing only one part of her costume, sideburns. “You guys, you have no idea how busy I’ve been. I haven’t even had time to put on my costume.” An hour or two later, as other guests arrived, The Leaver provided them her costumeless explanation. After a bit of coaxing from the Press (ROFL’s costume), The Leaver donned her costume for a photo. Less than 30 minutes later, The Leaver was out of costume, sideburns excluded, again. “What’s going on here?” Dr. BJ asked. “We’re in phase two of our costumes,” The Leaver replied. “Didn’t you bring a t-shirt?” The third person is always the last one to find out about phase two.

As the night came to a close I was speaking with FatGirl about relationships. I haven’t been in one for a while and, with the exception of the little appointment with my gynecologist and her intern (which kind of made it like a double date), me and my DeDe are like born-again virgins. “I’d have sex with you, but you’re third in line,” FatGirl said to consule me. “Right,” I retorted. “I slept in your bed and you didn’t even touch me. And what do you mean ‘third in line’?” “Third in line. I like dick, ass and then titties. See, third in line.” They say good things come in threes, but this is one third come I may respectfully decline.

I had a doctor’s appointment today – yes, the girl doctor – and as I arrived to check in I approached the ‘non-pregnant’ window. As I did so, the girl at the ‘pregnant’ window smiled at me and said, “I can check you in over here.” I just assumed she was being helpful so I walked over to her window, informed her of my appointment time, gave her my name and the name of my doctor. “Oops,” she stated and then looked to the ‘non-pregnant’ window staff, “Looks like she is one of yours.” Clearly, I must have ‘looked like’ I was one of hers first. Damn buckwheat pancakes.

After the appointment I, like a woman who was pregnant and then not pregnant within seconds of finding out she was pregnant, immediately went to the grocery store and bought Nutter Butter cookies. If only they were Nutter Butter Butter – I love that peanut butter filling. Shortly after this excursion and slight expansion of my ass (since I just returned from Europe I’ve been telling people, “I’ve got France in my pants”), I received a text from OregganO asking about my plans for the evening. I invited her to join Dr. BJ and I for dinner. “Can we eat something healthy?” she replied. “Of course, I’ve been eating healthy for like two days – if you don’t count the diner, pumpkin pie for dessert last night and the emotional Nutter Butter cookies I just ate.”

OregganO came by and we did, in fact, eat healthy. After dinner, we were pleased to be joined by Alice. She was sharing a story with us about a recent event that was very emotional and resulted in a lot of tears for her. One evening, when she was crying, a sturgeon (yes, a fish) type creature attempted to console her with this and only this, “Here, have a tissue.” This response envoked additional emotions for Alice. Luckily, she has had a good couple of days to offset her recent tragedy. Yesterday, the Yankees won and today she was one of the few who got to attend “Stones in Exile” at a local brew/movie house. “I absolutely love Mick Jagger,” she informed us while her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “My DeDe was quivering.” “Your what!?!?!” Dr. BJ asked. “My DeDe. Don’t you guys have names for your parts?” OregganO, Dr. BJ and I all looked at each other for support. “How do you spell it?” I asked. “Capital D, e, capital D, e. Just like it sounds,” Alice retorted. “I can’t believe you guys don’t have names for yours. I’ve called mine this since I was,” she stopped, as though she was counting the time, “a little girl.” “I apologize,” I replied. “I don’t have a name for mine.” “Me neither,” said OregganO. “I just call mine cock or dick,” said Dr. BJ. Alice seemed disappointed with our responses so, in an attempt to console her, I said, “Here, have a tissue……it might also help with the quivering you experienced at the theater.” “I don’t think so,” Dr. BJ quipped, “for a quiver like that she’ll need a curtain.” The curtain, another story, for another time……

A lot of learning makes me really hungry. Actually, a lot of anything makes me really hungry. Being that I spent a lot of my youth in this little resort/conference town, I knew of the perfect ‘greasy spoon’ diner to grab breakfast (which was technically now lunch or as the city slickers call it, ‘brunch’).

Upon entering I knew we were in for something decadent. The diner had old school stools at the bar and shiny silver booths (if the bar wasn’t your ‘thing’) in the main section. In addition, there was a dining room in the back – for those wanting a fine dining experience. I decided to check out the dining room and found it to be exquisite. You step down (and you know you are stepping down because of the yellow and black hazard tape on the steps and the handwritten ‘watch your step’ sign taped to the door) into what reminded me of a 1970s teacher’s lounge. Chintzy tables complimented by  chintzy chairs. No table decorations, no pictures on the walls. The perfect setting for a white trash wedding reception.

I went back to our booth and suggested Sleepless and Passed The Sniff Test take a few minutes to experience fine dining – living in the big city one can easily take such things for granted. They did so and, after wanting to live like the Joneses, we reviewed the menu. Across the top of the menu their slogan read, ‘Where you eat by choice, not by chance.’ Take that all of you reality tv shows about losing weight! After perusing the menu I chose to order bacon and eggs with a side of toast, hasbrowns and a buckwheat pancake. The buckwheat pancake is a dish all on it’s own, so when the waitress brought my order to the table it took up a good portion of the space. This, and the fact that we were the ‘one of these kids is not like the others’, drew attention from a table of three men:  one with a bluetooth in his ear, one wearing a utility workers shirt, and the third in a large orange shirt smattered with grease and food stains. The guy in the orange shirt definitely stood out and it was clear that was by choice, not chance.

We were still eating when the three men decided to leave the diner. As they were doing so, Orange Shirt panned our table (maybe longing for my meal) and then gave Passed The Sniff Test a ‘look’. “Did you see that?” I asked Passed The Sniff Test. “He just kicked your ass with his eyes.” “I saw it and I felt it,” Passed The Sniff Test replied. “Yeah, he is definitely keeping with the slogan,” I replied. “He did that to you by choice, not by chance.”

When we finally left, or rolled out of the diner – I think I ate half of a pig and I know Passed The Sniff Test did because his slice of ham still had bone intact – we decided, yes we chose, we were definitely coming back soon. The food is great, but more importantly, I’m hoping to see Orange Shirt again – we may have a wedding to plan soon and I know just the place for the reception…..