Category: blog

The elite alumni are just that and, as such, not everyone enjoys the pleasure of their company. Being a fortunate soul, I have enjoyed the pleasure of their company on more than one occasion. Every moment with them is like a moment of Zen. That is, if Zen was pure mayhem and no inhibition as opposed to meditation and intuition.

 

After hearing everyone’s happiest moment at this moment, and as the night was coming to an ‘end,’ So Hip decided she was ready for karaoke and requested my assistance in setting up the system. I got her connected, requested a song on her behalf, and then left her in the trusted company and care of Scared.

 

I returned a few minutes later to find So Hip lying on the floor, sleeping, microphone in hand. “She feel asleep singing,” Scared informed me.

 

Such dedication, such beauty. So Hip refused to give in to sleep until she had a least one line, possibly two, under her belt (or, in this case, muumuu). As soon as she belted out that line she relieved herself of the pressures that so often accompany being the center of attention and promptly took a nap on the rug.

This my friends, this, is how the elite do it. It ain’t over ’til the lady in the muumuu sings.

 

 

 

 

 

25 years ago, after spending the majority of the day at a local water park, I took a shower (maybe), grabbed my cap and gown, and headed to my high school to participate in a graduation ceremony. For years after that day I had dreams in which the student counselor phoned  to inform me that, in fact, I did not graduate due to an error in credits. Obviously, this haunted me for some time. What did not haunt me, however, was relationships with alumni. For many years, with the exception of two or three classmates, I had very little contact with classmates.

 

This all changed approximately five years ago when I reconnected with Drizzler and she suggested a private gathering with alumni I hadn’t seen in years. Since then I have reconnected with this elite group of women several times. Each time we learn a little more about each other and, every now and again, we decide we want to know a little less about others.

 

It’s hard to believe 25 years has passed since signing their yearbooks, and even harder to believe they didn’t want to hang out when I called them (just as they had written) 24 years ago, after a whole summer of staying cool. Regardless, I invited them back to my house for another Elite Alumni Reunion. Wanting to recreate our senior pictures I purchased  a formal black dress, turned it into a dickie, and we took ‘current day senior pics.’  The only drawback to this activity was that Scared had to remove her ‘Homecoming Queen’ sash. Luckily doing so did not disturb her incredible hair – invisible roller bang and crimped locks.

 

Staying in theme, I took a lot of photos with a disposable camera. Fortunately others actually took photos with cameras that worked (most likely because a glass of gin and tonic didn’t spill on them). In addition to taking photos and reminiscing about ‘the happiest we’ve ever been in this moment’ – that was So Hip’s roundtable discussion – we did karaoke. Karaoke is something we do every time we get together, but not something we did in high school. Which makes me wonder, what did we do in high school?

 

Like many other EARs, our night ended as the day was beginning for others and the photos (those in the disposable camera excluded) gave us a much better idea about how the night went. Until next yEAR!

 

P.S. I’m dropping out of Yearbook Club – I don’t need the credits (do I?) and my disposable camera is broken.

It has been said, ‘when life gets tough the tough get going.’ This is exactly what happened on Friday, June 20. Life got tough and Sleepless and I packed our bags and got going…..to Rated R’s house for dinner, drinks and a good old fashioned slumber party.

 

Not wanting to be responsible for much of anything, we hired a driver (thank you Ice Cream Man) and made our way up the canyon. As we approached Rated R’s town we decided to skip going out to dinner, thus, needed something we could eat at her house. I phoned the local pizza establishment, placed an order of sorts, and informed them I would be sending my driver in to retrieve it. They couldn’t have been less impressed, but Sleepless and I thought it was awesome.

 

Once at Rated R’s we popped the pizza in the oven, enjoyed some margaritas and, when the margaritas ran out, did some wine tasting. By 2 AM we had discussed multiple topics, enjoyed a fine pairing of popcorn with our wine, checked in at multiple places we never frequented, and completely forgot why we needed to ‘get going.’ At one point, we discussed contraceptive devices and, when I informed them I lost my IUD, Sleepless asked, “How are we going to get into bars?” Shortly after that, we were discussing something related to sex when Sleepless said, “I like to be the middle,” to which I replied, “Sometimes you have to be the cookie.” Because, quite frankly, sometimes when the going gets tough that’s how the cookie crumbles.

 

Tree recently questioned me about the location of a blog entry specific to him, of course, “What happened to Pride Sunday’s blog? It’s AWOL!?” Not wanting to disappoint, and knowing he only reads the blog when he is in it, I opted the ‘locate’ the AWOL post.

 

The day began with a pre-parade mimosa party hosted by Tree and Awkward. Unfortunately, due to the fact that Tree may have been intoxicated when making the invitation, the wrong hotel was detailed on the invitation. Fortunately, they didn’t run out of the two – yes,  just two – bottles of champagne because nobody showed up.  Instead, Tree and Awkward met me, Sleepless and Ice Cream Man for brunch and champagne at a patio restaurant along the parade route. It was then we realized that Tree did not let the low-to-no attendance at his pre-party ruin his day. Instead, he popped the cork of one of his champagne bottles and enjoyed all of it (sharing a little with Awkward of course, maybe). As a result, he had a good buzz going by 10 AM.

 

He also helped us  – such a gentleman – finish our bottle of champagne before heading to Ice Cream Man’s place for tequila shots, vodka infused lemonade and, with a little bit of opposition, some sunscreen, “I don’t need sunscreen, I’m Greek.”  Note to self: Send Tree a pamphlet on skin cancer prevention, in Greek. Second note to self: Send Tree a Greek dictionary.

 

Several hours, and drinks, later we arrived at the Pride Festival and immediately made our way to the beer line – supporting equality in a relatively conservative town can make one quite thirsty.

 

We then made our way to the dance floor where we quickly decided dancing on the floor was not not enough, thus, hopped up onto the stage with a few others. Like the health department, we closed that dance party down and opted to leave Pride behind us and grace a nearby bar with our presence. Within moments of arriving we managed to secure the entire south patio and host what was a bit like a private party – we’re all about equality,  but we also like VIP treatment.

 

Several drinks, nachos, taco, fries and entrees later we decided to call it a night. Like this post, I’m sure several of us were AWOL for a few days after these festivities.

Unbeknownst to That’s Not Chinese, I had a gynecological appointment today. Attending these appointments with me is one of That’s Not Chinese’s favorite pastimes. Rightly so, my doctor is quite unique, as are her staff.

 

I arrived and received the standard treatment – weight and height check, vitals, and the receipt of a hospital gown and a sheet. “Don’t get unchanged yet,” the medical assistant informed me and added, “She wants to talk to you first.”

 

My doctor entered the room and the conversation began, “Anything interesting happening down there?” “Nope.” “What are you doing for birth control?” she asked. “I’m using an ancient trick – abstinence. So far, so good.” “Well keep doing that until you do something different. When you do something different, use a condom,” she advised. Sound advice – when doing ‘something different’ a condom is always a good choice.

 

We then discussed weight. “I feel like I’ve gained weight. Actually, I know I’ve gained weight and so do my clothes. My boobs, my hips, my stomach. Weight is everywhere. It’s strange because I’ve done more cardio this year than I’ve probably done in my entire life. I don’t think I’m overweight, I’m just over weight, literally. I’m tired of gaining.” “Well exercising doesn’t necessarily result in weight loss, in fact, muscle can cause weight gain. It’s really a matter of diet, and even with diet your butt will eventually move around to the front of your body. Then you’ll have no butt and all gut,” she informed me.

 

And with that, my appointment was over.

 

MiniMe and I stopped by Beaner’s house to drop off a belated birthday gift and, while there, she said some gifts of wisdom with us.

 

A few days ago, when watching television with her daughter, an ad for osteoporosis medication aired – the main focus was broken bones. Beaner’s daughter informed her they should purchase the medication for me. “That is so kind of her to think of me,” I told Beaner. “Don’t worry, a few minutes later a weight loss ad aired and she told me I should try that,” she replied.

 

As we continued to discuss medications, MiniMe alerted us to a dilemma she often encounters in Alaska, “If you’re in the bush area you can’t be waiting a week for birth control.” Beaner and I may be older – especially with her recent birthday – but that doesn’t make us mature. “I couldn’t agree more. In fact, just a few minutes in the bush without birth control is risky.” Beaner laughed, MiniMe rolled her eyes and, just then, I received a text from BeCuz requesting to borrow my crutches. “She tore her calf muscle. We should probably purchase her some of those osteoporosis meds,” I advised. “While we’re at it, let’s get her some birth control just in case she is in the bush area anytime soon,” Beaner added.

 
Some say a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. We say birth control in the hand will prevent two in the bush.

I will be out of the trailer from June 9-16, helping Honey Boo Boo move.

Knowing I had a trailer trash birthday bash to attend, I had to leave the pool party early. “Too bad you didn’t wear a t-shirt instead of your swimsuit,” BeCuz said to me as I was heading out the door. “You would have had a sweet farmer’s tan for tonight’s shindig.” Always (middle) classy and always spot on.

 

I arrived home with enough time to take a shower, apply a temporary tattoo, and don proper attire. All guests were encouraged to dress in accordance to the theme; however, we – Sleepless, Ice Cream Man and I – don’t need encouragement to don a costume.

 

In fact, with the exception of the ‘costume’ ankle monitors we were wearing, we had (on hand) all of the perfect fixings for a white trash bash – regardless of the occasion.

 

We arrived to find Beaner – the broad whose birthday we were celebrating – with a beer, cigarettes, and what appeared to be a pregnant belly. She nailed it. We also found a lovely fifth wheel accessorized with outdoor lights, lawn chairs, loads of mullets, and a wading pool full of ice and beer.

 

As the night went on, more great hair and outfits paraded through the trailer court and the light on my costume ankle monitor began to blink. Thus, we poured a little beer out for our homies and called it a night. My mesh muscle tee, denim overall shorts. Mother Trucker ball cap and high-heeled, polka-dot shoes will go back in the box until the next (middle) classy event.

 

 

As a responsible inflatable adult pool owner, one must regularly move the pool around the yard so as not to kill the grass underneath. This is not an easy task when the pool is full of water.

 

I attempted to do it on my own, however, quickly realized this lido was a two lady job. Both still in work dresses, Sleepless and I started tugging, pushing and trying to lift the pool across the lawn; all to no avail. We had been draining the water in the process, but it wasn’t draining fast enough so we took turns standing on a corner of the pool while the other stood inside it and pushed water out between the other’s legs. This worked well for a a bit, but we were only slowly  making progress.

 

Sleepless decided to balance on one corner of the pool while I pushed the opposite corner up. She leaned in toward my corner for balance, I figured I had pushed as best as I could, and then I let go of my corner. The pool dropped and Sleepless – with her feet on one corner and hands on the opposite corner – did too. “It’s just a pool,” she said as her body hit the side of the pool and rolled off onto the grass.

 

Somehow, surprisingly, we eventually moved the pool a bit. After which, we moved from the lido deck to the front stoop for a well-earned glas of wine.