Category: blog

I was having a telephone conversation with That’s Not Chinese today, discussing various life matters, when she said, “Well, you know, you’re not emotional.” “What?” I asked and informed her, “Not true. I am emotional. That comment pissed me off. See?” “You know what I mean, you don’t get worked up about things,” she tried to clarify. “What you mean is I’m not dramatic,” I advised her. “I do like a little bit of drama,” she stated, at which time MissInformation walked in my office and I put the call on speakerphone.

 

“Tell her what you just told me,” I instructed That’s Not Chinese. She did and added, “You know, she doesn’t ever cry.” “I’ve seen her cry,” MissInformation advised That’s Not Chinese, paused, and finished her sentence, “because she is laughing so hard it brings her to tears.” “Thank you,” I told MissInformation.

 

“What I’m saying is she doesn’t cry or get emotional over other real things,” That’s Not Chinese continued to attempt to defend her point. “I cried the other day at a conference because a young girl was sad about her family situation. In fact, the person sitting next to me had to ask if I was OK.” “Whatever,” That’s Not Chinese replied.

 

A few hours later, I sent That’s Not Chinese a reply to an email she had sent me about depressants, “Made me cry a bit, but that’s because I’m an emotional person.” Her reply, “Shut up dork!  You are emotional, just not as much as your daughter.  Now stop it or I might cry. Wait, I am an emotional person on meds so I don’t cry anymore, lol.”

 

If I knew how to use emoticons, I would have replied with some yellow circle with eyes, doing something funky with his/her mouth. However, since I’m not a feelings demonstrator, I just deleted the email.

I have found that when I’m not in a relationship I tend to run my medical issues by my friends, “Hey, do you mind looking at this mole in between my ass cheeks? I’m concerned it may be cancerous.” I don’t feel bad about doing so because, if they are also single, they usually reciprocate the behavior at some point.

 

There are times, however, when I just wait until I go to the doctor. Being that I’m relatively healthy, I typically only go to the doctor for my yearly pap smear. This year, I saved my one major ailment for my gynecologist.

 

As soon as she finished my pap smear, and while my feet were still in the oven mitt covered stirrups, I asked if she would mind removing a sliver in my foot that had embedded so deep I couldn’t get it and my toes were starting to tingle. She agreed to do so and, after much prying, removed it and said, “That was a big piece of wood.” From that moment on, I started telling people, “My gynecologist removed my embedded wood.”

 

I shared this story with Lola who told me she also used her gynecologist for other ailments, “I was at my annual and had been experiencing the feeling of something in my eye. I asked if he could look at it and he said, ‘I don’t have a slit light.’ I couldn’t stop laughing.”

 

We talked for about an hour and she started rubbing her eye. “Sorry, I’ve got something in my eye.” “No, I’m sorry, I don’t have a slit light. You might want to make an appointment with your gynecologist,” I replied.

MiniMe and Striker recently terminated their relationship. Or, as I like to see it, he struck out. She was pretty emotional about the break up, so Opreggano and I met her for lunch at a local Mexican restaurant.

 

As we talked about break-ups, dating friends and roommates (and by ‘friends and roommates’ Opreggano was referring to friends and roommates of the ex), and getting through that difficult emotional time, we emphasized the importance of spending time with friends (not Opreggano’s type of friends).

 

“Some of my friends from work are taking me out drinking on Friday night,” MiniMe told us. “Don’t take your cell phone, leave it at home. Last thing you want to do is drunk text or call the ex,” Opreggano wisely advised. “Do take condoms. I don’t know if I’ll have my winning condoms by Friday, but you can have one. Lord knows I’m not using them. As of late, the only time I’m waking up to and going to bed with someone else is when I’m on TV,” I told them. “I like that,” Opreggano replied. “You know I’m allergic to latex,” MiniMe said, completely missing my really great one liner. Sometimes one liners are better than one nighters.

 

“No, I didn’t know that,” I replied. Opreggano was loving this discussion and decided to provide more dating wisdom, “You can get some of those sheepskin condoms. They’re great.”

 

As we departed, Opreggano gave MiniMe a hug, said, “Hang in there,” and then burst out laughing. As MiniMe stood there, dumbfounded my Opreggano’s outburst, Opreggano informed us, “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I read that from a sign.” She turned and pointed to a sign in the restaurant that read, “Hang in There!” “At least you didn’t read that sign,” I said while pointing to “Some like it hot!” She and I then burst into more laughter. Poor MiniMe, having to hang with people like us.

 

I stopped laughing and gave MiniMe a hug. While doing so, I followed Opreggano’s lead and said/read, “El Gringo. Tequila Especiale.”

I am so excited today.
Every now and again, I make snippy little remarks and, every now and again, they pay off. Today was payday.

 

Several years ago YumYummy and I were hanging out in Times Square and thought it might be fun to try peddling some of the tourist items. Scarves are nice, as are purses, but Obama Condoms are awesome. I sold several of the condoms (Obama, Palin, McCain) and this weekend, while tooling around on the Obama Condoms facebook page, I saw this Community Question: “What’s everyone doing for the weekend? Best answer get’s free condoms!!!” I decided to reply, even though I knew I had ‘stiff’ competition of two other fans. My reply, “Hopeful my old, but not expired, thin resume will get me a job drilling somewhere.”

 

Today, I received a response from them letting me know I won and asking for my address so they can mail the condoms. I was so excited, I knew I needed to get out of this skirt and into some jeans so I could cream them. Before doing that, I sent a reply, “Yeah! Sending it to you now. I’m so full of black hope right now I could scream!”

 

Now all I need is the next and 25th letters in the alphabet: KY!

I decided to introduce Alice and That’s Not Chinese to a new artist – new to me, anyway, most of my new stuff is old. As they listened to the song and watched the video Alice stated, “Wow, you do have a heart.” “No, I just have good taste,” I replied.

 

This wasn’t true for some people who recently took one of my cars on a test drive and, in return, left me their beat-up Honda Accord. Not So Little Man thought it was brave of me to let them take the car. I told him now would be a good time for us to take their keys/car and commit illegal activity. Being that I try to be a good role model, we went to the movies instead, in my car.

 

The potential buyers opted against buying the car, returned it, and retrieved their car. That’s Not So Little Man, Can’t Be Bothered and I decided to take my car for a test drive and, when we got inside, found a surprise – the test drivers left behind one of their church CDs. Nothing like a new CD, unless, of course, the new CD is a 7-year-old LDS compilation. I decided to send them a text, “Sorry you decided against buying the car, I was going to offer you a free 2005 efy CD with purchase. I can mail it to you if you’d like.”

 

The potential buyer replied, “Wow, that beats any offer we’d gotten. We felt really good about it, but we just couldn’t do it.” Clearly, she hadn’t realized she left the CD in the car….or maybe she did. “Quick,” I told Not So Little Man and Can’t Be Bothered, “Check the car for a Book of Mormon. I think they only test drove the car in an attempt to convert us.” We didn’t find a Book of Mormon and I followed up with one more text, “Do you want me to mail you the CD?” Like pregnant Jessica Simpson on Jimmy Kimmel, she finally figured it out, “How funny. I forgot we left that in there:) Just thought you had a few you gave out occasionally.”

 

Wrong. I don’t have a heart – just good taste, I’m a non-prophet organization and, now, I’m wishing I’d saved that CD for a white elephant gift.

If you know anything at all about St. Patrick’s Day, the most important thing to know is why people drink so much. The answer is simple: the Irish, and now millions of others, believe this day to be a one day reprieve. Due to the fact that National Corndog Day fell on the same day as St. Patrick’s Day this year, we experienced a major one day reprieve. In fact, we started early enough, it almost felt like two days.

 

That’s Not Chinese and Alice were the first to arrive and wasted no time popping open a bottle to get the party started. As any good host would do, I set out appetizers that would have made jailhouse Martha Stewart proud – Flaming Hot Cheetos and marshmallow bunnies in my finest styrofoam bowl and Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies on a very posh paper plate.  That’s Not Chinese wasn’t interested in the appetizers and was a bit disgusted when Alice decided to try one of the marshmallows. “Ew, you’re eating one!?!” she said to Alice. “It’s National Corndog Day. She is going to be putting a lot of things in her mouth that aren’t normally there,” I quipped. Alice then made a face, said, “I can’t swallow,” spit out the bunny and added, “That’s the first time I’ve ever said that.”

 

Ice Cream Man, Sleepless and Little Sleep soon arrived, placed Sleepless’ Franzia in the my milk box, and we convoyed to our favorite corndog establishment. As we pulled into the parking lot we were pleased to see corndogs were on sale and Beaner in the parking lot waiting to join us. The employees of the restaurant weren’t aware of this incredible holiday, however, once we advised one of them of it, he made an announcement over the PA system and the crowd (Ice Cream Man, Sleepless, Little Sleep, Alice, That’s Not Chinese and I) went wild.

 

Alice is not at all a fan of the corndog, “but I love National Corndog Day. I might have to have fish.” Fish and tots. She wouldn’t score as many points of the rest of us on the Corndog Score Sheet, but could try and catch up with tots and drinks. As we were waiting for our first batch, Sleepless witnessed a drug deal taking place just outside the restaurant, “Did you see that drug deal?” I had seen it, and would normally ‘take action,’ but was pretty busy with my corndog celebrations, “No, I’m on vacation.” Those drug dealers just got a one day reprieve.

 

As we waited for our corndogs, tots and apple juice, Alice passed out our Pabst Blue Ribbon coasters and Black Jesus surprised us with his presence – everybody loves National Corndog Day. Once our food arrived we started comparing our dogs – I’ve never been in a men’s locker room, but I have a feeling is a little like comparing corndogs. Some of our dogs had been deepfried for some time and were dark in color, a few others appeared to be a bit dysfunctional, and one was quite greasy. Truth be told, these corndogs were a lot like our friends – diverse, dysfunctional and, every now and again, kind of greasy.

 

As we were enjoying our tots and dogs, I noticed Ice Cream Man sliding his dog in and out of a napkin. “What are you doing over there Ice Cream Man?” I asked him. “Getting my grease off,” he replied. I pulled my second corndog out of it’s bag and found it was pretty greasy, so I grabbed a napkin and followed Ice Cream Man’s lead. “Is this how you get your grease off?” I asked him. “Yes, however, I think I need a little more Jergens,” he quipped.

 

We returned to my house to finish the day as we started it – sitting around the table drinking and perusing the Carol Wright Gifts catalog. Between the waterproof pants (to stop embarrassing leaks), Two Hats in One, and all of the amazing products on pages 44-45, the catalog was a coveted item. Black Jesus took a little longer to return from the corndog consumption and we had just finished a bottle as he pulled up. So, again, being a proper host, I pulled out a small box of wine. “Ew,” That’s Not Chinese said. “Hey, don’t hate,” I advised her while pouring some in her plastic wine glass, “That is the most expensive box in this size.” “I don’t want any of your box, I just want the Carol Wright catalog,” Ice Cream Man told us.

 

That’s Not Chinese was not quite ready to give up the catalog – she had ‘dogeared’ a couple of pages and advised us, “I have a secret sex life so don’t drop in. Oh, and, I’m not a morning person.” Based on the amount of deepfried food and (boxed) beverages we consumed during our one day reprieve, I doubt any of us will be morning people anytime soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not surprisingly, after our night out on the town, Can’t Be Bothered and I didn’t make it to the ski resort until about 1 PM. Fortunately, all we had to do to get there was roll out of bed and into the skis and boots that Iced Tea had so kindly fitted and left out for us.

 

Unfortunately, the boots didn’t fit, so Can’t Be Bothered and I scoured his closet of skis for something I could use that weren’t intended for racing – something special I like to reserve for skiing with Sleepless. Once we found what I needed, we headed to the resort.

 

Being that Can’t Be Bothered was on vacation, I let her select the runs. Being that it had been at least twenty years since I’ve skied, this may not have been my best idea. Several face plants and bruises later, we ended our day on the slopes and met up with Friend of Bjorn, Just History, Coopga and Almost.

 

Just History keeps himself busy producing reality television shows, so, Friend of Bjorn, Can’t Be Bothered and I kept busy by providing him show ideas throughout dinner; primarily, shows ending in ‘Swap.’ Friend of Bjorn is in investments and a fan of SL,UT Cuts, “My mom’s hairdresser, Bjorn, used to come over, have drinks and do her hair. He had a friend…..” If Coopga mentioned what he did for work, it escaped me after he said, “I don’t live with my mom, my mom lives with me.” Almost is studying to be a forensic psychologist and loves talkies, “When did we stop saying ‘talkies’? I love talkies, I grew up on them.”

 

Almost’s age would dispute that last statement, however, the fact that he kept falling asleep during dinner might confirm it. Coopga played upon Almost’s excessive daytime sleepiness and began singing great 80s songs, which Almost would finish every time – eyes closed.

 

We decided it was time to end the evening and piled into Dirk. Almost and I were in the front, Can’t Be Bothered, Friend of Bjorn, Just History and 28 were in the back, and my Wilson Phillips CD was in the CD player. We all belted out “Hold On,” as we drove them to their temporary home. As we pulled in the driveway, “Release Me” started playing – fitting. To answer Just History’s question, “Who can name more than two Wilson Phillips’ songs?” God Only Knows….wait, that was their dad’s song. Or was their dad’s song theirs?

 

 

 

 

Thanks to the generosity of Iced Tea, Can’t Be Bothered and I were able to spend the night in a mountain resort town East of the big city.

 

This isn’t the first time we’ve been to this part of town and, based on our previous adventures here, trouble would soon ensue. It started mildly with a couple of ho made enchiladas and margaritas. Contrary to popular belief, I can be pretty homestic and make a mean margarita. After a couple of margaritas, Can’t Be Bothered and I grabbed our mittens and made our way to the bus stop, finding multiple photo opportunities along the way.

 

As we approached Main Street, I asked the driver when we should depart. “You get off here,” she replied. And so we did – not sure if she’d had enough of us, this was the last stop, or both.

 

We went to the bar we always go to and, as is most often the case, met really interesting people. Friend of Bjorn was seated next to two empty chairs at the bar, so we saddled up next to him and began chatting. His friends, Just History, Almost a PhD and 28 were soon to be arriving from New York. As we were chatting about different things, Can’t Be Bothered noticed a camouflaged tank top for sell that she quite liked. “What does that top say?” she asked Friend of Bjorn. “Boy Beater. Do you want it?” With a look of great disappointment she replied, “No, I thought it said ‘Boy Eater.’ I would have bought that.”

 

As we waited with Friend of Bjorn for his friends (who are not friends of Bjorn) to arrive, he was telling us a little bit about each of them. One of his friends was in the process of getting his PhD, so I advised Friend of Bjorn of our interpretation of PhD. He quite liked our interpretation and, when his friends arrived, encouraged me to ask him about his ‘degree.’ “Do you have a PhD?” I asked. “Almost,” he replied while using his hand/fingers to imply something small. Friend of Bjorn almost choked on his burger.

 

They planned to ski the next day, as did we, but were a bit more serious about it so they called it a night and we stayed for more mayhem. We decided it might be fun to check out a few other bars on Main and, as we started walking, we found more photo opportunities. At one point, we met Snowball’s Throw who offered to help out by taking our picture.

 

He led us to a ‘locals’ bar and we arrived just after they announced last call, which meant we wouldn’t be getting drinks. “We can go to my place,” Snowball’s Throw told us and added, “It is just a snowball’s throw away.” He then proved the point by picking up a snowball and throwing it West of Main Street. Where that snowball landed, we had no idea, but opted to head there anyway.

 

Snowball’s Throw lives in one of the old historic houses, which was great news for Can’t Be Bothered. “I have always wanted to see what these looked like inside,” she told him. “Wanna see my hatchet?” he asked and then pulled his wildland firefighting ax off the wall and posed for a picture. We took a quick tour of his house, which provided additional photo opportunities, Snowball’s Throw poured us drinks and his friends – Jesus and Spicoli – arrived.

 

In true Spicoli fashion, Spicoli loved a good time and didn’t have a job. In true Jesus Christ fashion, Jesus was a white man with long dark hair and full facial hair, whose full-time job was turning water into whiskey. Spicoli, sadly, didn’t stay long – we’re guessing he needed to study for a history exam.

 

As Can’t Be Bothered and I continued to chat with Snowball’s Throw and Jesus, Jesus told me he wanted to show me something. He led me to the back room where he lit the fire and then pulled me close to him and attempted to light my fire. We snogged for a minute before I asked him the big question, “May I call you Jesus? You look exactly like Jesus Christ.” “Sure,” he replied. We snogged a little while longer and then I told him, “Jesus Christ, you’re a good kisser.”

 

This may be way I don’t snog often – I get too caught up in funny one-liners resulting in ‘missed’ opportunities for funky one-nighters. Not wanting to be the friend who shagged the guy in the back room, I thanked him for the make-out (and patted myself on the back for ‘bringing kissing back’ – one of my many goals) and Can’t Be Bothered and I started a long, not so full of shame, walk home.

 

 

Jesus

 

The first couple of hours with Can’t Be Bothered were surprisingly sober. By day three, however, things had changed. It all started with a simple football game. If you are not familiar with Queen’s English, ‘football’ is the proper term for what most Americans refer to as soccer.

 

Knowing the passion English fans have for this sport, I embraced my heritage and dressed for the occasion – royal blue wig, tank top with royal blue accents, mini skirt, and white thigh high tube socks with royal blue stripes. I offered similar fashion accessories to Can’t Be Bothered, however, she wanted to stay, “neutral.”

 

Although we were originally going to meet at a pub, filming was taking place there, so we instead met up with Progressive and Sleepless at a posh hotel bar. “People are going to think you’re here to see clients,” Can’t Be Bothered told me. “Can’t do that today. I haven’t signed a conflict of interest form at my full-time job,” I replied.

 

After several drinks and the game ending, Sleepless had to return to work, Progressive had to take kids to the doctor, and Can’t Be Bothered and I had to stay for another round. After which, we made our way back to my house where Can’t Be Bothered let the chloroform take over for a bit and I put a bun in the oven.

 

Progressive arrived just in time to mix drinks and enjoy fresh baked bread, stoopside. Earlier in the day, he had told me he wanted to change his blog name. While stoopside, he brought up the name change again. “I am not a government agency. You cannot just submit a request, pay a fee, and change your name,” I told him. “I wouldn’t mind a name change either,” Can’t Be Bothered told me and added, “I can’t remember why I’m Can’t Be Bothered.” “Maybe you just can’t be bothered to remember,” I replied.

 
About this time, Skiwi – who loves his name and being in the blog, invited us to his place for pizza. Progressive couldn’t join us, so Can’t Be Bothered and I grabbed a bottle of wine and made our way. We arrived to find Skiwi in the kitchen, flour on the counter and dough in hand. “Just in time, we’re ready to roll!” he told us while throwing the dough on the floured counter and rolling it into shape. DDDG soon came home and they began their relationship banter, which includes topics such as exercise, speakers and vegetables.

 

After dinner Skiwi showed us his house listing (he is attempting to sell) and then gave us a tour of the house. Specifically, a tour of the speakers and wireless audio/visual equipment. “Surprisingly, I’m not getting any interested buyers,” he told us. “Maybe you’ve listed it wrong,” I advised and added, “You should stop trying to sell it as a house and, instead, sell it as a speaker set, equipped with a top of the line house.”

 

While he got busy changing his listing, Can’t Be Bothered and I headed home where we took some aspirin and went to bed in an attempt to prepare for tomorrow. Unlike Benjamin Franklin, we don’t go to bed or rise early. We are, however, wise – we take aspirin, which is supposed to ward off strokes, heart attacks and relieve pain/hangovers. We’ll see…..

This title was posted five days before I finally got around to writing it. Although it is true that my life provides a lot of material and, as Progressive states, “I give you the good stuff,” the ‘good stuff’ he gave Can’t Be Bothered and I the other day kicked off a four-day bender.

 

As a result, with as much material as I might have, I can’t remember much of this day’s material. I do know, however, that I don’t have a new (permanent) tattoo, I have $1.22 in my wallet, corndogs are delicious, and I completed one of my goals. I’ll cover all of that in the days ahead/passed. I’d do it here, but I’ve just got so much material.