Category: blog

Opreggano decided to do some home renovations, using power tools, by herself the other day. I know this because she sent me a text, “If I cut off any of my fingers you are my emergency contact.” I advised her to add my digits as an In Case of Emergency (ICE) contact in her phone, while she still had all of her digits. Later, when we were tooling around the town together, I shared a disclaimer with her, “For the record, I cannot be your ICE contact when I’m with you.”

This evening, while stooping with That’s Not Chinese and Alice, I shared with them a little story about me and Vice. The fact that ‘Vice’ is used as a preposition for important societal roles, like president, is interesting since it is most often defined and perceived as wicked, failing, degrading, and immoral, to name a few.

That’s Not Chinese had heard my Vice story before and had only one question for me, “You’ve passed background checks since then, right?” Alice, however, had not heard my story, so I shared this ‘intimate’ and intriguing detail about my past with her. Tricky, tricky, that’s me.

After Alice went home, That’s Not Chinese stayed on the stoop, finishing off the wine and enjoying the blackened (burnt) squash and tomatoes. At some point, after she peed on the tree, but before she drove home, That’s Not Chinese asked if I would be her ICE. “Sure,” I replied and added, “But like I told Opreggano, I can’t be that person when I’m with you or immediately after you leave my house.”

She left my house and I waited to receive a text from her saying she was safely home. When I didn’t receive the text, I sent one to her and called her. “Just wanted to make sure you’re home safe. When I didn’t hear from you I wondered if I needed to hit the streets (not like that time with Vice) to see if you were OK.”

“Trust me,” she told me, “Should the situation ever arise, you will be my first phone call.” “Like I told Opreggano, not if I am currently or have recently been with you. I can guarantee I’m just as guilty as you at that point, thus, best not be your ICE contact, but I’ll make a nice cell mate,” I replied. Then, I turned off my porch light – it’s a soft white, not red – and went to bed.

Last night, when I stumbled upon the show ‘Free Agents,’ I took a picture (it was actually an article about the show, not the show itself) and sent it to a few of my friends who are familiar with what we fondly refer to as the ‘Honeycomb‘ story.

S-Unit quickly replied, “Your text cracks me up! Just got home, my phone is charging or else I would have called you.” I replied, “No worries, I’m cleaning like a dirty bitch.” I was texting back and forth with That’s Not Chinese, when S-Unit sent me a few more text messages, “Oops, just responded to the wrong text,” “Hahaha,” “You nasty girl.” I replied, “Now who is the nasty girl?” Her response, “Haha, someone just responded, ‘huh, wrong number.’ I’m dying laughing so hard!”

It was about this time when That’s Not Chinese sent me this text, “Just got a random text from la.” I sent her S-Unit’s phone number and advised her it was most likely from S-Unit. “LOL, yes, that is it. Awesome,” That’s Not Chinese replied and added, “You must have sent her a naughty pic, lol.” “I sent her the pic about the cryer. So funny. How did she respond?” “She said, ‘nasty girl.'”

I was sharing this story with Sleepless and Ice Cream Man and both of their faces lit up. “She sent the same text to me,” Sleepless said, pulled out her phone and showed me the message. “She sent me a text on July 16th as well – didn’t understand that one either.”

None of this behavior surprises me. Just last night, S-Unit called me and hung up, then called again and said nothing. “Don’t think you can just call me and breath in the phone,” I told her and added, “I am not Grandma Helen and you are not Jake Ryan (for those of you who don’t recall, that’s a reference to the 1984 John Hughes classic, Sixteen Candles).” Nothing but giggles on the other end of the line.

This evening, when S-Unit called me, she was still laughing about her erroneous text messages. “You know what I say, there is a song for everything, ‘Nasty girls, uh huh.'” “Did you know Vanity 6 (1980s band produced by Prince) refers to the number of breasts in the band?” I asked her. “They consider that Vanity? Hmmm. I wonder how Klymaxx got their name,” she pondered. She really is such a nasty girl.

With the exception of arriving on time, I have been doing as I’m told as of late. During the design class at Pottery Barn, I asked loads of questions. After the class, Opreggano gave me some design advice.

Thus, today after work I decided to come home and do as I was told. As Pottery Barn consultants advised, I made a large piece of furniture – the Packard Bell vintage radio – courtesy of Bruiser, my focal point.  Per Opreggano’s advice, I placed it in the corner of my dining area.

This left me with a predicament: what should I do with my vintage CD player?

Opreggano finds humor in the fact that I still have a CD player and do not have an iPod or MP3 player. Doesn’t surprise me,  she reads electronic books. The other day, while she and I were dining at a local deli, the mailman walked by. “I love his radio,” I told her. “You two are soul mates,” she replied and continued, “He can’t have an iPod or an MP3 player, he has to have an actual battery operated radio.” “Strapped to his messenger bag with rubber bands. Even better,” I replied. “Failed love connection. He’s married,” she told me. “How did you notice the wedding band? I couldn’t see passed the rubber banded radio,” I said while thinking about an old radio my parents may still have.

Anyway, I sent Opreggano a picture of the radio in the corner of the dining room with a short message, “Took your advice. Yep, that’s Loretta Lynn spinning on the vintage CD player.”

She was quite pleased (although she has been razzing me about Loretta Lynn for two days). As was I, as I dusted my shutters and noticed the neighbor trying to ride a unicycle. Like me, he was doing what he was told – playing with something vintage, donning a helmet and staying close to home. So meat and potatoes of us.

I truly love vintage electronics. Go ahead and keep your new-fangled stereo equipment, I’m going to do as I’m told by PBS and hold on to my ‘antiques.’ Yes, surprisingly, every now and again I do as I’m told.

BioMom, Opreggano and I try to stay in the know when it comes to entertaining, designing and etiquette. Thanks to Pottery Barn, we are able to do this on a relatively regular basis.

Today, BioMom made sure we had reservations for the “How to Design Your Living Room” class and, in addition – thanks to the etiquette class, decided to bring coffee. I was on my way to Opreggano’s when she sent me a text, “BioMom is bringing coffee.” At first I was excited and replied, “Yeah!” Then I realized that there may have been more to this message. “Wait, should I bring something? Paper cups? My own coffee? Is this code for wine?” “No, I think she is at the coffee shop,” Opreggano replied. “Oh, ok, that’s a lot to process without coffee,” I replied and asked, “Did she cream at home?”

By now, I had arrived at Opreggano’s to find both of them sipping on their coffee. “Thanks for grabbing coffee for us,” I told BioMom and then asked, “Did you cream at home?” “No, I had someone cream for me this time.”

Ever since BioMom has been working on her engineering degree, she has been getting a lot smarter. Unfortunately, this means she may be moving away in order to find a career in mining engineering. Opreggano and I both consider this a miner infraction and, if we could, we would cite her. We let her off today because she brought us coffee. Plus, the Entertain with Style class is next month and we need someone to register us for the class.

Opreggano and I love a good deal. When she found a yard sale with a twin-size captain’s bed, she called me and I, of course, told her I would be ready in no time.

When I opened the door, she looked down at my shoes and went Chelsea Lately on my ass, “Running shoes? Are you running somewhere?” “They’re not running shoes, they’rs just cute sneakers and, yes, I’m running errands with you.”

As we approached the yard sale, I asked, “How did you hear about this yard sale?” “It’s some sort of deal where they’re trying to make money to get their kids out of state custody,” she replied. The bed was front and center with a big sign on it that read, ‘FREE.’ “How much for the bed?” Opreggano asked. “We were asking $45, but now it’s free.” “I’ll take it!” she replied. “At this rate, they’re never going to get their kids back.”

We needed a truck to retrieve the bed, so we returned to my house, grabbed the truck, and decided to hang ‘MISSING: Banana Bread’ posters around town as we made our way back. Unlike the time when Opreggano bought a treadmill, and the people selling it just stood there while she and I attempted to carry it down the two-story stairs, these ‘sellers’ actually lifted the bed into the back of the truck for us.

“Let’s get out of here, quick, before they change their mind about the price,” Opreggano told me. “Why do you think I wore my running shoes?” I asked her. “How did you hear about this sale?” I asked again. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Another reason I wore these shoes – you’re giving me the run around.” “You and those shoes,” she stated.

In addition to impacting my ability to breath, my cold has really taken a toll on my ability to think and speak clearly. While staying home sick, I received a call to do a media interview. I quickly changed into my ‘work clothes,’ threw away my pile of snout rags, folded up the cozy blanket and, by most appearances, looked ready to go.

The reporter and photographer arrived and set up shop in my front yard – where the lawn hadn’t been mowed for days and most of my plants were dead (weather related, of course). I participated in the interview and, afterwards, realized that was probably not my best decision. My eyes were heavy, my physical movements were slow and animated, and I answered the question before he finished asking it.

This isn’t because I’m telepathic, rather, it is because he had asked it previously and in the middle of my response I sneezed – so hard that my eyes started watering (if it wasn’t for kegeling, I would have had other problems as well). “I really like that response. Can you say it again once your eyes aren’t watering? Although, that does make it look very emotional,” he said. “No. no emotion,” I said while sniffling and wiping my teary eye. “I’ve received very strict orders about not showing emotion.”

The next day, still congested, I met That’s Not Chinese for a quick after work drink. She, too, has been sick, so it was the first time either of us had been out for something other than medications and book readings about polygamists.

I was attempting to share the interview story with her when it became very apparent that I had no business communicating with others while I was sick. “I like you on cold medicine,” she told me. She might have, but the server wasn’t as keen because it took me a minute to process his questions and create a response. That’s Not Chinese decided to share my current situation with him in an attempt to justify my delays, “Sorry, she’s on cold medicine.” “On cold medicine and drinking wine,” he snidely commented while walking away. A few minutes later, in standard delayed form, I said, “There went his tip.”

That’s Not Chinese and I ended up staying at the restaurant for several hours and at one time I decided to tell her an additional and crucial part of a story. “Oh, it gets even better,” I excitedly told her. Then, I thought for a second, played back our conversations in my mind, and had a realization, “Sorry, I already told you that part of the story earlier.” Looking a little let down, she replied, “You’re pretty excited about it – you can tell me again.”

We began talking about bear traps and land mines when I thought of something related, but could not think of the actual term. I finally decided to ask, “What are those things in the sky?” “Stars,” she laughed. “No, I mean, yes, stars, but what is the other name for them?” “Something to do with astrology, I think,” she replied. We both just sat there, looking up at the sky, with a blank look on our faces. “What are those things?” she asked. “I asked you first,” I replied.

A few days later, she sent me a message, “I finally figured it out (sober)…they are constellations.” Oh, yes, those things.