Category: blog

Always open to the idea of working together on projects, The Responsible One put together a filming gig that provided the opportunity for me and several of my mates to work together. The Responsible One spent several hours drafting a script and then we both spent several hours securing talent. Fortunately for us, Sleepless, MissInformation and Iced Tea were all available. In need of an aunt, I reached out to Beaner.

 

“Not likely. I suck at acting and I especially suck at being an aunt,” was her text reply. “Maybe if  you ‘act’ like an aunt it will improve both,” I replied. Fortunately, she finally agreed to participate.  With the exception of Beaner’s role, I wasn’t aware of the roles of other, myself included. I decided to read the acts and, as I perused Act One, I found that the mom was expected to cry, sob, and memorize tons of lines. I laughed to myself and wondered, “Which poor sucker will be stuck with this role?” Then, I quickly checked the list of roles. Me. I was expected to be the crying, sobbing, emotional, lots of words mom. With the exception of ‘lots of words,’ this was definitely not the result of typecasting. I was screwed. I mean, I love to chat it up, but I do karaoke for a reason: the words are on the screen, no need to memorize.

 

Luckily for me, Sleepless shared the same problem with memorization, her iceberg was like a conference center at maximum capacity – cool and full. Luckily for both of us, she would be representing me in the scenario, so we got to sit next to each other during the scene. This wasn’t so lucky for everyone else. As people would say their lines, Sleepless would look at me, start to smirk, and then we would do everything in our power to not laugh, or at least not laugh so loud. Our attempts were highly unsuccessful. In the meantime, Beaner and MissInformation were seating in the pews, in character, and taking time to memorize their lines. I so wished that was me. Had The Responsible One checked my resume she would have seen I was an extra, twice, on The People’s Court – making me more than experienced for pew sitting.

 

Instead, Sleepless and I continued to act like we weren’t cracking up – to be honest, this was some of our best work, academy award winning no doubt. Act as we might, as others tried to deliver their lines with a sense of professionalism and pride, we still continued to giggle like school girls. When the director said, “It’s a little chunky. Let’s try to smooth it out next time,” we giggled even more.

 

As we were wrapping up the shoot, the director advised us to “Squeeze together for a wide angle.” Sleepless and I giggled again and Iced Tea finally broke character, “Who thought it was a good idea to have you two work together?” “Us,” we replied, giggled some more, squeezed together, and then acted like we were acting.

Oreggano and I were in the midst of our Sunday chores – enjoying refreshing beverages on the stoop and observing the activities in the neighborhood, when my neighbor came home and we invited her to join us.

 

The three of us sat on the stoop, drinking, observing and updating each other on all of the neighborhood activities. I filled her in on the new neighbors, just South of me, who clack away at night and wake me each morning – eight chickens; one of which, it turns out, is actually a rooster and regularly cockadoodledoos. “Maybe it is just a lesbian chicken,” my neighbor suggested. “You may be on to something,” Oreggano told her.

 

While on the topic of lesbians, we gave my neighbor an update on That’s Not Chinese’s success with online dating. My neighbor, who had met That’s Not Chinese several times, was not aware of the fact that That’s Not Chinese is a lesbian. “If you ask her, she’ll tell you she isn’t,” Oreggano advised and added, “She is just a girl who likes girls.”  “Maybe she’s a lesbian chicken,” my neighbor suggested. “Maybe, but she is definitely not one to wake up before everybody else, she’s more of a cockadoodledon’t,” I replied.

 

Hopefully, we’ve cleared up any confusion my neighbor may have. Specifically, That’s Not Chinese isn’t a lesbian chicken nor is she chicken of being a lesbian – she is just a girl who likes girls and she likes them even more if they let her sleep in.

There are a couple of ‘things’ in life that are/I’ve dated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jaded. In fact, if I had a dating mantra it would be, “Dated not jaded.”

 

It does seem, however, that dating certain people has certain consequences – i.e., prostitution stings and treadmills. There are also the very common consequences:

 

Dated and incubated (best hope it’s not twins)

Dated and debated (aka, fought a lot)

Dated and hated (goes without saying)

Dated and related (typically reserved for families in Kentucky)

Dated and arbitrated (loans, property, gifts – all sought after)

Dated and associated (coworker, neighbor, best friend’s sibling)

Dated and weighted (you know this relationship – the one that weighs you down, literally and figuratively)

Dated and baited (this may not always be bad if the bait doesn’t later become an item to arbitrate)

Dated and tailgated (stalkers)

Dated and crated (this typically happens later in life when your partner dies)

Dated and ornated (trophy girlfriend – may always be engaged and never married)

 

For the most part, I’ve only experienced a couple of Lifetime Television appropriate relationships. The best way to know if that is happening to me is to watch what equipment I’m using at the gym. If I’m using the treadmill, it should be obvious, I’m dating someone I shouldn’t. Which I refer to as “dated and abating.” If the person is really bad for me, and if I still had my prostitution sting heather greys, I’d be wearing them while running….away from them, on the treadmill.

It’s The Eyes loves the sun. She also loves coming up to the city. To tend to both of her loves, she purchased a season pass at a local water park and frequents there every couple of weekends in the summer. Today, she extended an invitation to Oreggano and I to join her. We were both with child – she with 4-oh-9 and me with Baby Q – so we packed up the diaper bags and met It’s The Eyes for some communal bathing mayhem.

 

Being responsible adults (not a phrase often used to describe me or Oreggano), we did not pack any alcoholic beverages in our diaper bags. We now realize this was a very irresponsible adult act on our part. Diaper bags are the perfect decoy for these items. In fact, we were able to bring everything into the water park – cheese, crackers, fruit, salami – contrary to policy. “We’ll let you through this time,” the young bathing bouncer with, clearly, an attraction to cougars told us.

 

We laid our towels next to It’s The Eyes’ stuff and wasted no time hitting the kiddie pool with the wee ones. All was good in the pool – the temperature was just right, water depth was low, and there was no cryptosporidium in the water. After some time in the kiddie pool, we ventured over to the wave pool. Baby Q loved this pool and we ended up spending most of our time there.

 

After several high intensity wave sessions, we exited the pool and that is when we saw it – a brown hour, ten thirty, high risk event, or, as the Center for Disease Control refers to it, a diarrheal fecal incident – floating near the stairs. Pretty soon, all of the adult attractions were shut down because the water from the wave pool circulates to the other slides. 7KV, appropriately named for having seven kids (and we all know where they come from – yes, the oriface North of that which is causing problems at the park right now), inquired with staff about the situation. “We’ve got a ten thirty,” they told her. “Look, we’re all adults, let’s just say it like it is. Somebody shit in the pool,” 7KV replied.

 

She was (brown) spot on. After being home sick yesterday, the last thing I wanted was a water related illness that took me right passed happy hour to brown hour. Thus, Oreggano and I picked up our wee ones and bolted to the door faster than someone with cryptosporidium would run to the bathroom or, in this case, the stairs of the wave pool.

Working when a holiday falls in the middle of the week is a bit futile for most. For me, it was a great way to enjoy a little air conditioned alone time. It was also an opportunity to meet with my doctor to discuss boils and the like.

 

Luckily for me, my boils weren’t boils at all. In fact, Cheekiss may have been right when she suggested, site unseen, “Maybe they’re spider bites.” Makes sense, especially considering I’ve been sleeping outside (remember, no air conditioning).

 

I left the doctor’s office and, instead of returning to work, headed home, sick. Or was it homesick? Either way, I headed home, closed all of the blinds, turned on the fans and decided to call it a day. Just before five, I got a text from That’s Not Chinese. She was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by. Looks like she too was homesick.

 

We drank wine for a bit inside the house, then, when the sun began to go down, we moved out to the stoop. As I put my legs up and relaxed, That’s Not Chinese looked across the way at my neighbor’s house – where my neighbor was sitting on the porch, and asked, “Are you wearing underwear?” “No,” I replied and added, “Which reminds me, as I was about to leave my doctor’s office she handed me a pantiliner and said, ‘You’re going to need this.’ I thought to myself, ‘OK, well then, I’m going to need some underwear.'” “There is something wrong with you,” That’s Not Chinese told me. “Right, I’m home. Sick. Remember?” I replied.

Smilin’, shinin’, countin’ on – are all very important traits in a friend. Poppin’ a zit or a boil, well, that’s where Dionne Warwick got it wrong.

 

Being that it is summer, I prep my territory accordingly. Unfortunately, this can result in ‘bumps’ and, worst case scenario, ingrown hairs. Ingrown hairs, unfortunately, can often and quickly turn into boils. This one time, when I was married to this one guy the one time I was married, he had a boil. He ended up needing medical attention and the doctor recommended I assist with the daily cleaning of the boil. I respectfully declined. The last thing that relationship needed was daily boil cleaning.

 

So, when I noticed I had what I thought was an ingrown hair, in a not so easy to access area, I knew I had a problem that could ‘boil over’ quickly. Not being in an intimate relationship, I shared information about this situation with That’s Not Chinese. “Let me have at it,” she excitedly replied. She and Tree have a thing for zits, boils and cysts. When they see them, they suddenly think they are experts in the field of popping and lancing.

 

Like the one time I was asked to clean the boil – the one time I was married to that one guy – I respectfully declined That’s Not Chinese’s offer. “No way. That is a horrible location to have a friend,” I replied. “Nobody needs to know,” That’s Not Chinese replied. How quickly she forgets I blog. Fortunately, the ingrown hair took care of itself. Thus, That’s Not Chinese and I can keep smilin’ and shinin’, sans popping and lancing, because, that is truly what friends are for.

Sleepless and I love a reason to dress up and sing. With Independence Day upon us, we decided to host PatriotOke – a chance to don some red, white and blue while singing the blues or anything else you fancied.

 

We decided to ride together and I offered to make some pre-karaoke drinks should she and Ice Cream Man desire. They did desire, but Ice Cream Man was busy working and Sleepless was busy ironing American flags for the event. “He (Ice Cream Man) plans to wear them as a cape tonight,” she advised me. I couldn’t wait to see this. They arrived and Ice Cream Man was not wearing the cape. “I’m not ready for it yet,” he advised. Sleepless, however, was proudly holding one of the flags, “Look, we folded it properly.” They certainly had – Uncle Sam would have been proud.

 

We arrived at the bar to find several patrons. “It’s crowded tonight,” Sleepless observed. She was right. Typically, it is just us, the bartender and the karaoke master. There were at least ten patrons there who we did not know – although we might, if we checked public criminal records. Tonight, they were free (maybe not legally) and celebrating their independence. They quickly became a part of our patriotic celebrations – and we quickly gained a fan base. They were no longer just Americans, they were Amerifans!

 

Ice Cream Man eventually donned his cape, took his place onstage and sang a patriotic song. This and other patriotic songs reminded me of a name Pops always wanted to give one of his daughters: Merica. Not America, Merica. I shared this with Sleepless who was quite fond of the concept and suggested I consider a name change. “Then,” she told me, “People could sing, ‘We’re coming in Merica, today!'” Knowing the name change could come with a theme song made the concept somewhat tempting. Although, I’m not so sure about the ‘we’re’ part. I do, however, like the idea of Merifans.

MiniMe and I decided to go out to dinner one evening and, having won several auction items a while back, we had several restaurants to choose from.

 

Once our decision was made, we headed South to a little grill that served food with an international flair. It’s been so hot lately, I initially opted not to have a glass of wine – just water. Then, as I considered my entree choice and remembered gratuity and alcohol were not included in the gift certificate, and realized I would need to pay gratuity with a credit card, I felt it would be best for all parties involved to order a glass of grigio.

 

MiniMe and I thoroughly enjoyed our entire meal – from the appetizer to the dessert. “So, how much is this meal costing us?” MiniMe asked, knowing I’d spent a pretty penny on the auction item. “Honey, one never asks how much. It lessens the experience (something I learned from VICE). Besides, it isn’t about the cost, it is about the company and it is for the children. Thus, it is priceless,” I replied.

 

A few minutes later, I got the bill and thought to myself, “How much?!?!” This was not because the bill was high. In fact, it was rather inexpensive compared to how much it was at the auction. I provided a fair and generous tip and MiniMe and I headed home. They may have my money, but I’ve got her company – something money can’t buy. Unless, of course, we offer it up at the next auction.

 

Billy Idol, Buster Poindexter and I have a few things in common – fame, fortune and we’re hot. Hot, hot, hot, hot in the city. Like so many cities this year, my city is on fire – literally. Between the heat and the actual fires, it is one warm city.

 

Oreggano and 4-oh-9, not deterred by fire, stopped by for a little city time and a little city time I gave them! I started by keeping the temperature of my house at a balmy 80 plus degrees (my thermostat is old school and doesn’t go higher than 80, so I’m guessing what we were seeing was not what we were feeling) – this was an easy feat, considering I don’t have air conditioning. City time continued when Oreggano went to the fridge, returned with two beers and said, “I found two of your random beers and figured we could sit on the stoop and drink them.” It isn’t a true day in the city with Oreggano if the agenda doesn’t include us drinking on the stoop and shouting out at the passersby.

 

Surprisingly, the stoop was cooler than my house. So, when I wanted to feel really refreshed, I would walk into the house/heat wave and run back out to the porch. It was like crossing the equator – exhilarating. Once we finished our beers, we decided to embark on one of our other favorite city activities, where we knew air conditioning would be provided – visiting hardware stores and friends.

 

After finding everything we needed and more at the store, we stopped by That’s Not Chinese’s house. She was babysitting her nephew who, sadly, was experiencing a bit of a diaper rash. “Could be exacerbated by the heat,” I told her and suggested, “Let his bum breathe for a minute. Babies, like most people, like to lounge naked every now and again. In fact, one of my favorite things to do is lay on the floor to cool down.” “Naked?” Oreggano asked. “I wear a shirt, in case someone comes to the door. I can totally answer the door without them knowing I’m not wearing pants – I’m like an anchorman.” “So you just lay on the floor half naked?” That’s Not Chinese asked. “Pretty much. I would do it here, but you’ve got cats, which would mean I would end up making a furball angel on your rug.”

 

Not in the mood to furball angel or have my eye swell shut again, Oreggano and I opeted to leave the air conditioning and return to the stoop, where more drinking, shouting out (aka, rebel yelling) and sweating ensued.  Buster and Billy would be proud.

 

Ice Cream Man gets around. This isn’t to say he’s easy, like Sunday morning or some of my other friends. Rather, he has seen and done a lot in his short time here on earth. Last year, Sleepless had one summer request of Ice Cream Man: a night at the drive-in. One year later, Ice Cream Man agreed to make this request a reality – a very big step for him, especially considering that, as much as he gets around, he was a drive-in virgin.

 

I had to work, so we planned to meet at the drive-in.  As twilight approached, I began to receive text messages from Sleepless, “We’re bringing the big bean bag for seating,” and “Operation get bean bag in car failed – but not for lack of trying.” My only hope at that point was that Ice Cream Man’s loft community had security cameras and their ‘operation’ was recorded.

 

I arrived a few minutes post twilight and found Ice Cream Man and Sleepless on the ground with blankets, pillows and adult beverages. Sleepless immediately advised me of Ice Cream Man’s drive-in concerns, “He is worried this isn’t safe.” “Could be the neighborhood,” I advised. “She didn’t know Grease had a scene at the drive-in,” Ice Cream Man interjected, wanting to share this important drive-in trivia while at the same time deflecting attention. “How could you not know that? That’s when the word gets out that Rizzo is pregnant,” I said in shock, completely falling for the deflection.

 

Drive-ins definitely have their benefits. They’re affordable (you can usually watch 2-3 movies for the price of one), you can bring in your own food and drinks, they’re outside (al fresco), snack bar (if you don’t bring your own food and are craving a pickle), the noise around you is generally acceptable, you can get a sneak peek at naked bodies on the nearby screens (as a child, this was a big deal) and, if you’ve got a truck,  you can do whatever you want in the bed without anyone else knowing (hence the term ‘passion pits’).

 

We took advantage of all of the drive-in perks, passion pits excluded. We even tried to create a new perk, but Ice Cream Man wouldn’t take us up on our dare to streak down the rows of the drive-in. He was too concerned with other matters. Specifically, the other patrons/gangsters who were walking around and the cars driving through the rows disrespecting the ‘parking lights only’ rule. “Why does every car with a bad transmission have to drive down this row?” he asked Sleepless and I as another loud car passed closely by our feet. “He has made mechanical observations about several of the vehicles here tonight,” Sleepless informed me. “Easy to do here,” I replied, observing the surrounding vehicles and patrons. Between movies, Sleepless advised Ice Cream Man to turn on his engine so the battery wouldn’t die. “Gotta keep him informed of the drive-in ways,” Sleepless stated. “Good thinking. We definitely don’t want to be stranded at the drive-in,” I replied. “Branded a fool,” Ice Cream Man quipped.