Category: blog

Every now and again a good pampering is in order and pedicures, with paraffin wax is one of my favorite pampering treatments. OregganO and decided to start our day with said treatment and had the good fortune of being seated right next to each other.

We were discussing relationships and dating with our treatment providers when the topic of making out came up. A while back, MiniMe said she and her roommates have a list on which they keep the names of people with whom they cannot make out. As we all discussed this concept, we came to the conclusion that it was a bit odd and, mostly, difficult. “That’s how you meet people,” OregganO said. “You make out with them.” I’ve actually never truly met anyone in this way, so it sounds like a good New Year’s resolution.

I had tried to show the girls some pictures of MiniMe and did what I often do, almost typed her name in the “share” box, which would have made her my facebook status. “Never look for people in your share spot,” I advised them. “Good advice,” OregganO stated, “location, location, location.” It was at this point that my treatment provider, Five Days, informed us she hates where she lives, “It is very dangerous. We have been robbed twice and I think it was my next door neighbor.” OregganO offered to assist with their home needs and the girl suggested she contact her husband directly to sway him to list the house, “Lie to him, if you like to lie,” Five Days told OregganO. “That is how he understands. No, really, it is.”

We were almost done with the pampering, but OregganO’s polish was still a bit wet. “I’m going to blow on your toe so it will dry,” Happy Ending advised her. “Perfect,” said OregganO. “It’s been a long time since someone told me that.” My guess is it hasn’t happened since she stopped making out with people to meet them. Happy Ending then added, “Sucking and licking will cost extra.” Nothing like a full-service salon.

Several hours later, OregganO and I decided to use a gift card (with $3 on it – wouldn’t want it to go to waste) at a local eatery. As we walked in we were greeted by the host who had a very obvious black eye. “That’s a nasty shiner,” I told him. “That’s such an old word,” Shiner replied, “and that’s like the fourth time I’ve heard it.” “Well, we’re old,” I responded. “No way,” Shiner smiled and added, “I was just going to give you a kids menu.” Five Days may be spot on with her theory – neither Oreggano or I minded Shiner’s little white lie.

P.S.ing, by the waying, and by the bying are great prefaces. I especially like it when they are used together, like this, “Oh, so, P.S. and by the way….” Love it, provides great emphasis. Which is why I was so drawn to OregganO’s comments the other day, “P.S. It’s not really loan fraud if….” Cream of Tartar interrupted, “Anytime you start a sentence with that, you know it’s not good.” I thought it was great.

What I also think is great is the story MissInformation shared with me. She and her boyfriend were in Amarillo and looking for something to do. Her boyfriend asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” MissInformation thought to herself, ‘How does he know I’m thinking about tagging up cars at Cadillac Ranch?’ He actually wanted to go ring shopping. “It knew it was too good to be true,” MissInformation told me, “I really had my heart set on tagging – it’s legal there, you know.”

Without much thinking, Rusty Rogue Rafael decided it might be a good idea to confess his love to a long-time friend. He had discussed this with me and I expressed some concerns about doing so. Nonetheless, he went ahead and told her, and then called me to tell me about it. “How did you do it?” I asked. “In a normal drunken fucked up way,” he replied. “How else am I supposed to do it?” “Probably not drunk,” I said and asked, “What did she say?” “She said, ‘Never say never, but it’s never going to happen.’ I asked her if it was because she didn’t find me attractive and she said ‘yes.’ She wasn’t joking either. I mean, I know I’m no cup of tea, but don’t you think that’s pretty harsh? How could I have been so wrong?” “It is a little harsh,” I said, “And I’m really sorry, but sometimes  people are not always thinking what we’re thinking.”

OregganO and I fully intended to attend a class designed to improve our tree trimming skills….and then we sat down and had a quick glass of wine. While enjoying our wine I noticed a familiar face on one of her Christmas cards. “I can’t believe it,” I said in awe, “we’ve got the same dairy guy.” “Really?” OregganO replied and added, “looks like he fills both our boxes.”

Right soon after this, Cream of Tartar came home and decided to have a glass of wine with us. I had just refilled my glass, accidentally bumped it, and spilled wine all over my skirt. “Do you want me to wash that for you?” Cream of Tartar asked. “No, it’s fine, I’ll wash it when I get home.” A few minutes later, he disappeared. OregganO shouted out, “Are you OK?” “I’m peeing with the door open, sitting down, so don’t come back here,” he shouted back. “And seriously, take that skirt off and I’ll ‘Shout’ it.” He giggled a bit to himself and then added, “I think I just got my money’s worth.”

I did end up letting him ‘Shout’ it and borrowed a pair of sweats in the meantime. I hadn’t made room for a while, so I got up to do so, “I have to pee. I hope you don’t mind if I shut the door.” “Well, that’s where it gets dicey,” Cream of Tartar replied. This open door discussion reminded us of the children’s television show The Polka Dot Door. “I hate Lamb Chop and Shari,” said Cream of Tartar. “People liked him and I hated him. I knew he was a sock, a creep.” Poor Lamb Chop and his song that never ended.

I decided it was time to end this night and OregganO retrieved my fully washed and dried skirt for me. Thanks to their ‘open door’ policy, I’ve no doubt I’ll ‘see’ them soon, literally.

Well, it’s official. I am starting a charitable organization. Greenbacks for Fullbacks. This organization is not designed to get money for the high school football team – everyone knows they get their money from the drama department and the arts programs. Greenbacks for Fullbacks gives women, who have had it with thongs, the opportunity to go out and invest in some nice fullback underwear. At first, I considered Greenbacks for Granny Pants, but I was afraid it would attract far too many sexual deviants and it didn’t rhyme.

My interest in fullbacks all started a few weeks ago, when I suggested somewhat of a thong boycott to OregganO – she felt that was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction. Personally, I felt it was more of an underwear going up my ass reaction.

As often happens when one is ‘in a relationship,’ their partner begins to influence many of their decisions. Rhoid has definitely had that effect on me. In fact, there is a good chance that Rhoid wouldn’t be in my life if it weren’t for thongs. Oh, and an inadequate intake of fiber.

Not one to take anything for granted, I’ve decided to eat more fiber, drink more water, start wearing fullbacks and ‘end’ things with Rhoid. This probably won’t be the first, or last, relationship sabotaged by fullbacks. I’m alright with it though, Rhoid is completely high maintenance and, like I told OregganO the other day, he is always riding my ass.

If you want to make a donation to Greenbacks for Fullbacks, I’ll have a jar at the local 7-11. To make sure the jar is legit, and that you’re not donating to some fictitious Greenbacks for Fullbacks organization, look for a picture of me – sporting my fullbacks and a eating a corndog. Seems right. Corn is a vegetable and I once read that foods served on a stick are a good source of fiber.

OregganO and I had planned to enjoy a hot beverage at one of our favorite coffee shops, while watching people in Cadillacs frequent the food pantry across the way, but a phone call from a friend quickly changed our plans. Instead of relaxing in the coffee shop, we got our drinks ‘to go’ and I suggested we go to the local cemetery to drink them.  “Ive never done that before,” OregganO informed me. “Really? I love doing that,” I said.  “Of course you do,” OregganO responded.

 

Turns out, OregganO loves it too. As we walked around reading the numerous headstones we were intrigued by the various sizes, styles and epitpahs. One of the headstones was for a soldier and, from a distance, it looked like he fought in the SPAM WAR. I wondered, outloud, if that war was fought in the Phillipines. “I’m pretty sure that is the Spanish American War,” OregganO corrected me, “however, if it was an actual SPAM in a can war he was probably stationed in Hawaii.” We started making our way back to the car when I stepped on some snice (snow turned into ice) and slipped clear across Clara’s large headstone. I somehow managed to gracefully maintain a vertical position – which OregganO found both impressive and comical.

 

A little later in the day, D-Dog stopped by to update me on her life. She is interviewing for jobs in the city and, should she accept any of the job offers, she may end up living with me. Dr. BJ joined us for the discussion and D-Dog began sharing a recent dream. She believes dreams have meaning and, after explaining her dream in detail, she gave us a concise interpretation, “I’m going to get knocked on my ass soon.” This may not happen, but if she continues hanging out with me there is a chance she might slip on Clara.

 

We were all sitting in the front room and in the dining room (adjacent to the front room) was a nightstand I had been staining. “Speaking of being knocked out, did you open any windows or doors when you were staining?” Dr BJ asked. “No,” I answered. “I didn’t open any yesterday either and, I must tell you, I slept like a baby.” “I’m sure you did,” Dr. BJ replied while shaking his head and laughing. I should probably be more careful or someone will soon be sipping a hot beverage and reading my epitaph, which will most likely read, “Slipped on Clara.”

Dr. BJ and I met up with DDDG (soon to be my barista) and Skiwi for drinks, appetizers and documentary watching. Being that Dr. BJ has been housesitting for That’s Not Chinese, we haven’t seen a whole lot of each other lately, so this opportunity gave us a chance to reconnect.

After the documentary, Skiwi was showing us several of his yard sale finds. One of his proudest finds was a five-disc CD player. He popped in a little Zap Mama and was showing us the tabletop wine opener (also yard sale) when the CD stopped playing and a weird noise came from the CD player. Skiwi was baffled and immediately got up to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, the player wasn’t cooperating. Dr. BJ and I did as we always do, blamed Agnes. Skiwi, however, opted to cuss it out a bit and I thought I heard him say, “Tally-ho!” “Did you just say tally-ho?” I asked. “No,” he said and then did some sort of tribal dance move, “I said bloody hell and this is not blogworthy.” “Tally-ho, bloody hell, same thing,” Dr. BJ said and added. “And it is all blogworthy. BW baby!”

Skiwi quickly solved the case of the yard sale CD player –  all fingers point to Zap Mama – and joined us for a last drink. He was still pretty upset about the musical disruption/technical difficulties. “Bloody hell, you don’t want those types of things to wrong,’ he said with great frustration, “especially when you’ve invited journalists over.”

Once home, I was getting ready for bed and placed my phone on the docking station. A few seconds later, I heard FatGirl’s voice. Somehow, my Google voicemail downloads started playing and I could not get them to stop. “Bloody hell,” I complained. Fortunately, after a lot of failed attempts, I figured out how to stop it from playing – tally-ho, off to bed!

Had the privilege of babysitting Q’s little one. OregganO, a bit baby hungry, was there to assist me. Prior to leaving, Q was advising us on how to warm up her breast milk (which was in little baggies and reminded us of saline implants – but we didn’t put them in our bras, no need), and told us her father-in-law was preparing a bottle and smelled her milk. We all agreed that was a little weird. “My milk doesn’t smell,” Q informed us. A little while later, WeeQ told a conflicting story when she tooted – Q’s milk does smell.

Contrary to the belief of many, the babysitting gig went well and I did not trade WeeQ for a bike (I’ll Call You Later told Q that I might do so). I would never do that – especially not for a one seater, maybe for a tandem.

I would, however, trade my new French boyfriend for a bike. You all may remember Carl, well, we finally parted ways. Just as I was getting ready to celebrate my new found freedom, there was a tap, tap, tapping on my back door. Turns out it is Rhoid (I’ve decided the ‘d’ is silent – makes him sound French and not so bad). Rhoid, like Carl, gets around. A while ago, he spent some time with Tree. I remember Tree telling me, “If I don’t get to the store soon I’m going to start dragging my ass across the floor like a dog.” I now feel Tree’s pain and it is a total bummer.

Not wanting to feel this way, I went to the store to get Rhoid his ‘poison.’ While there, I received a call from OregganO. She asked what I was doing, so I told her, “Buying suppositories for Rhoid.” “What and who?” she asked. I shared the news about my new found man, complained about how he is always ‘riding my ass,’ and then wished her a fabulous evening.

After searching every aisle, I finally broke down and decided to ask an employee where I might find suppositories. As I was leaving the store, I sent OregganO a text, “Rhoid and Carl are expensive first dates.” Several texts later she advised, “Maybe you should marry him (Rhoid).” Very grade school of Mrs. OregganO Nutter Butters. I replied, “Nah, he is a total pain in the ass.”

Dr. BJ did it – he bought a house! Gone are the good ol’ days of us (OregganO, Dr. BJ and I) casing neighborhoods and committing ‘soft’ breaking and entering acts. This life changing event called for a celebration, so we bought some champagne (Cordon Negro for Black Jesus)and invited friends over to celebrate. Luckily, Tree could join us for a little rub and pop (champagne corking – the rest of us are very timid about this task, which is funny considering all of the other things we’ll do/try).

 

Earlier, before the guests arrived, I was chatting with Dr. BJ about all of the people who care about him and want to be an active part of his life. “You know, you’re like a chocolate fountain,” I told him, “Everybody wants to dip into you.” We shared this story with our guests, FatGirl giggled, and then said, “OK, I’ll tell you a white joke.” I’m not sure why or how this related, but it was very appropriate considering the source.

 

Passed The Sniff Test showed up to join in the festivities and brought his mom, Wiener Whistle. She was sharing a story about how his brother, Skirt Chaser Not Skirt Chaser, experienced the “greatest day of his life when he saw the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and got a wiener whistle.” “Wow, mom,” said Passed The Sniff Test, “Wiener whistle? Where does that come from?” “I can’t help it, it just slips out.” “I don’t think that it just slips out,” said FatGirl. “If they did just slip out,” I added, “pregnancy dangers wouldn’t lurk at holiday parties.”

 

Passed The Sniff Test started sharing phrases/activities with us that he felt were very common. These included cock punch, squirrel tap, cup check and donkey punch. He informed everyone he plans to get me a t-shirt with “cock punch” printed on the front. “That should get me dates,” I said. Oreggano quipped, “Again, you are the reason you are single.” “Some guys like that,” Tree comforted me. “Yep,” said Passed The Sniff Test, “There is a Jack for every Jill.”

 

Passed The Sniff Test then started talking about getting a colonoscopy. “I’m glad I don’t have to have that finger until I’m 40.” “I thought it was 30,” Tree said with a questioning look. “No, 40,” Passed The Sniff Test confirmed. I could tell this answer conflicted with Tree a bit, so I leaned in to him and whispered, “Hmmm, guess that explains the weirdness of that doctor appointment.”

 

Dr. BJ pulled out the camera and started snapping photos. FatGirl leaned into a photo with Passed The Sniff Test and Wiener Whistle. As he did so, he flipped the bird. He said it was for Passed The Sniff Test but in the photo it was clearly directed toward Wiener Whistle. Not one of FatGirl’s finest moments, but he’ll probably get a minority scholarship for it.

 

As the music was playing, Tree started naming several 80s bands. Dr. BJ was unfamiliar with most of them, however, kept reminding Tree, “I love Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. Oh, and Prince.” After several attempts of trying to assist Dr. BJ with recall of some of the finest musicians ever, Tree gave up and told him, “You’re so no white.”

 

As Passed The Sniff Test and Wiener Whistle were leaving, FatGirl tried to make right, “It was a pleasure to meet you. Sorry I flipped you off.” Soon after all of the guests left, with the exception of Dr. BJ and OregganO, Dr. BJ laughed and said, “Oh, my straight boyfriend – he loves the Chocolate Bear.” “It’s good,” said OregganO, “everybody needs one.” “I wish I had one,” I added.

 

“What a night,” OregganO commented. “Full of racial shit and wieners.” “Yes, there was a lot of that.” We started cleaning up and Dr. BJ decided to keep the empty champagne bottle (on which I had written his new address), “It has my address, so I can remember it.”

Part of my job duties involve reviewing current hot topics (i.e., Iowa inmates making ‘not fluffy, but acceptable’ toilet paper to save money;  a college student ‘Googled’ himself only to discover he is a murder suspect; coach passengers can and will get a blanket if they take off all of their clothes during the flight) that may or may not be of interest to our organization. Today, as I was perusing the web and my email, I came across a media release with this heading, “Pregnancy Dangers Lurk at Holiday Parties.” I was intrigued, Maguired even (the release was Dorothy and I was Jerry…hello…).

Based on personal experience (with a ‘friend’, of course), I would have thought the release warned of impromptu, unprotected, alcohol induced intercourse. I was wrong. It actually warned of drinks and foods commonly served at holiday events that can lead to pregnancy problems. As I continued to ponder this release, I realized the headline could have so many meanings if one or two words were removed.

For example, “Dangers Lurk at Holiday Parties.” This release could warn, and in some cases remind, people of the negative outcomes of spending time with family or coworkers during the holidays. Another twist, “Dangers Lurk at Parties.” Most of us have found this to be true and our parents/legal guardians have most likely warned us of this. Lastly, “Lurk at Holiday Parties.” This release would be more of a ‘how-to’ for the creepy, stalker type. You know, the uncle whose hug is more like a grope; the coworker who knows the exact location of all of your files and personal items; or the neighbor who offers to rub tanning oil on you, remembers all of your swimming suits from previous seasons, and invites you to come over and watch ‘Real Sex’ when your parents aren’t home.

Ah, so many opportunities to be had with this release. And, yes, that is ‘what he said’.

Met up with Sleepless, Scot-tea and Venn at one of our favorite restaurbars, owned by the one and only, Frozen Soup.

 

The music playing in the background reminded me of Blizzard Man – an Andy Samberg character on Saturday Night Live (SNL). “Do you guys ever watch SNL?” I asked. “Oh, yeah, Will Ferrell,” Venn proudly responded. “Will Ferrell hasn’t been on for years,” Scot-tea laughed. “But you can buy the DVDs….” Venn replied, somewhat defeated.

 

It quickly became clear to me that they had been there for some time before I arrived and appeared to have taken advantage of the ‘well’ specials. Being good eaters, Sleepless and I paired our well drinks with crab cakes, custom pears with bleu cheese, and were now ready to enjoy our traditional dessert: chocolate beet cake (which we learned IS made with puréed beets – woot! vegetable cake, yummy!). Frozen Soup suggested we compliment the cake with the pistachio gelato. We did, Scot-tea loved it and, with each bite, exclaimed with great excitement, “This is the best sipachio gelato ever!” As we finished off the desserts, Sleepless sat quietly in the corner, looking very content. “I needed that,” she smiled and continued, “It was like a colonic cleansing.”

 

Realizing he had reached his limit, Scot-tea decided to start drinking his signature closeout drink, tea. As he was sipping his tea I told him about the concept of loose tea leaves in a small french press. “I don’t know about that,” he said, “loose leaves sink ships.” Venn called the server over to order another drink when Scot-tea expressed some concern, “Oh boy, maybe you just want tea.” The server was too quick and Venn’s next drink was on the table. “No, no, no. You don’t drink that!” Scot-tea instructed Venn. “I ordered you tea. Well, I didn’t, but I suggested it. Oh boy.”

 

Venn had been loudly telling me ‘secrets’ throughout the evening, in Drink Whisperer fashion, and had moved in close to tell me another one, “You don’t have to move close to whisper, ” I informed him. ” I can hear you when you whisper from your chair.” He was at that place one gets when the need for affection is exaggerated by the alcohol consumption and he beckoned for me to sit closer to him (there were several chairs between us). I respectfully declined.  Determined, he continued to pursue.

 

Scot-tea was sipping his tea and shaking his head. “She likes it,” Venn told him. “No, she doesn’t,” Scot-tea assured him. “Yes, she does,” Venn contested. “Well,” Scot-tea said, took a sip of tea and continued, “maybe the rest of us don’t like watching it. I knew you should have ordered tea.”

 

A little while later, Venn again ‘reached out’ to me for affection. “Get a room,” a patron at the bar shouted. “Oh boy,” Scot-tea commented. “I’m glad I’m the only one not having fun. I just don’t like to see date rapes. I’m weird like that. Check, please.”

 

Within minutes, Scot-tea finished his tea and was out the door. Four or five cups of coffee later, Venn was on his way home and Sleepless and I were on our way to karaoke, oh boy!