Category: blog

S-Unit’s parents are out of the country for her brother’s wedding. As a result, she and her sister are in charge of the family business. “I was ten minutes late opening the cleaners. My sister asked me, ‘Is this how you run a business?’ I reminded her I’m not running the business, I’m just in charge for a couple of Saturdays,” S-Unit told me after they had finally closed for the day. She went on to fill me in on her exhausting day.

 

“My mom specifically told me ‘no alterations,’ but a guy came in needing a button sewn on his pants and I’ve taken a class on sewing on buttons so I agreed to do it.” “You took a semester-long class on sewing on buttons?” I asked. “Yes. There were a few other things we learned, like sewing hidden zippers.” “How much did you charge him?” “Here’s the thing, I didn’t know how much to charge him so I just told him, ‘That will be $2 and I’ll have it done for you in a half hour.’ My sister said that was too little, especially if we had to pay for the button. Luckily, my parents were still at JFK and I was able to confirm the price with my mom. Looks like they’ll be able to stay in business for another week.” “Will you be there all week?” I asked, playing on something she had told me earlier in the week. “No, just on Saturdays,” she replied.

 

Later that evening, On My Terms and I went to a family-owned karaoke bar that has been around for years. Unlike my regular karaoke bar, where more warrants are served than drinks, this bar had a breathalyzer machine. Being that I was the designated driver, I decided to give it a blow. Seconds before my results posted, I received a message from the machine, “BLOW HARD NOW.” And so I did. My results: 0.00. “If I had more dollar bills I would blow all night,” I told La La Lovely and then suggested that her friend and his dad, who own a local personal injury law firm, start advertising on the breathalyzer machine. “Good idea,” he replied.

 

Also a good idea, would be for one of the patrons of the bar to frequent S-Unit’s family business. She was wearing the hell out of her pants and, as a result, it was difficult to know whether or not her zipper was down or just had difficulty staying up. Either way, she – all of us, really – would benefit from a hidden zipper; regardless of what any of us blow.

Anyone who is soon to have a baby should have a baby shower and anyone who attends a baby shower should dress appropriately. Thus, as I prepared for Opreggano’s baby shower, I quickly checked the internet for ‘what to wear to a baby shower.’ There was far more advice for the expecting than for the ‘don’t expect or try to stand out at the shower’ guests.

 

Being the helpful friend that I am, I shared the suggestions with Opreggano and, several hours later, Sleepless and I arrived at the shower in outfits that were feminine, yet not overtly sexy or slinky – internet advice followed.

 

It’s The Eyes welcomed us and took us straight to the drink table, “The stuff in the pitcher is really strong. The other stuff isn’t.” Sleepless and I both grabbed a glass of something really strong and took a seat.

 

Opreggano began opening presents, which involved a lot of bending forward and twisting – just like the internet predicted. Luckily, she chose a top that didn’t expose her soon to be lactating bits – something I pointed out to her while she held up one of the baby outfits.”I got the memo,” she replied.

 

“You’ve received so many outfits for the baby, after she wears them, you can just throw them in the trash instead of the laundry,” BioMom advised. “I never would have thought of that,” Sleepless replied. A few minutes later, as Opreggano was discussing how Cream Of Tartar had been handling life, post-conception, BioMom provided more advice, “Maybe you should remind him that you’re going to be dropping his child out of your vagina soon.”

 

“Speaking of,” Opreggano replied and then looked my way, “Tell them what your doctor told you to do with your placenta.” Like BioMom, regardless of my conservative attire, my comments were about to make me stand out. “Who’s got chapped lips?” I asked. I then bent down, chest not exposed, picked up my glass, and took a big sip of something really strong.

It has been almost two months since Fine Girl retired and she loves it. “All I ever wanted to do was drink coffee in the morning and watch the TODAY show, and I’m doing it!” By the fourth hour of the show, she’s put down her coffee and, like Kathie Lee, picked up her skinny margarita. “It’s the greatest on Sundays when I realize I don’t have to be anywhere the next morning. All I have to do is put on the coffee,” she told Calling The Dog and I while we were in our fourth hour of drinks.

 

We then begin talking polidicks – yes, polidicks. These are the men in positions of power who sleep their way to the top while the women with whom they are sleeping often find themselves on the bottom – literally and figuratively. “If you’re a female, especially in a city like DC, and you want a promotion, you sleep with people,” Fine Girl told us and then added, “I never wanted a promotion.” “Me neither,” Calling The Dog replied. “I haven’t wanted one for a couple of years,” I told them.

 

As I quickly thought back through the years, I realized I never wanted a promotion and this was evidenced by the individuals with whom I was ‘interviewed.’ “Actually, now that I think about it,” I told them, “I’ve never been in a ‘position’ to sleep my way to the top. As a result, I just keep sleeping my way to the bottom. Snooze button optional.”

 

XYZ is always a bit of trouble. When he walked into the meeting I was in today, I immediately checked to see if his zipper was up. Surprisingly, it was. I motioned for him to sit in the seat next to me, he acted like he didn’t want to, and then immediately made his way over.

 

As we sat through the meeting two things became very clear: 1) we were surrounded by nutters and 2) we always get in trouble when we sit together. While several women testified in support of laws that further stripped them of their rights, I sat in disbelief. “How can they support this stuff?” I asked XYZ. “She can ’cause she doesn’t have a vagina,” he quipped while gesturing to a woman who was nodding her head with each step back in time. Based on what I was seeing and hearing, he was probably spot on.

 

The more I heard, the more my body temperature seemed to rise. “Is it hot in here?” I asked XYZ. “No. You’re just hot ’cause you’re hot,” he replied with a laugh. I then shared with him a statement made by one of the men the other day who appeared to be trying to win over the women in the room, “My wife tells me men are really only good for 30-35 seconds, that’s it.” “Not true for him or for me. Maybe more like ten seconds, ’cause we’re old,” he advised and added, “You know you’re the only person I ever talk to like this. ‘Cause you’re like my sister.”

 

My life is like a weather report. Often broadcasted, occasionally forecasted and frequently not as predicted.

 

With the exception of the few weeks I spent at home in December, the majority of my time is not spent at the address where my mail is sent. Thus, when I am at home, I should be doing laundry, dusting my pendant lights and figuring out a way to film my bird penthouse. What I should do and what I actually do are not always the same – much like weather reports and actual weather.

 

This evening, I planned to do housework, however, was pleasantly surprised by the request of La La Lovely and On My Terms to come by for drinks. The 50% chance that I might get my housework done just became partly cloudy. Being that most of my clothes were dirty, my attire for the evening was a silk, spaghetti strap top, pink hot pants, a burgundy robe and black fuzzy slipper boots. Needless to say, the ladies were proper impressed. “Sexy,” La La Lovely replied.

 

On My Terms was also quite impressed, so much so, she invited me to join her on the stoop for a cigarette. Being that I was in my ‘smoking jacket’ (the term That’s Not Chinese uses synonymously with ‘robe’), I figured I was destined to secondhand stoop. “Your neighbors don’t mind seeing you like this?” On My Terms asked. “I’m sure my neighbors have been exposed to more than they could ever imagine thanks to my friends and I,” I replied. La La Lovely peered through the door, contemplating joining us. “Don’t do it. The windshield factor is bad,” On My Terms advised her and then said to me, “It wasn’t until a few years ago that I learned it was wind chill factor and not windshield factor.” “Makes sense. A cold wind could impact your windshield,” I replied. Windshield. Wind chill. Smoking jacket. Robe. Tomato. Toe-mah-toe.

Although I saw that I was competing with Madonna, I didn’t actually see her half-time performance so Ice Cream Man showed it to me, Sleepless and his coworker. “She looks old,” his coworker replied. “Old? Really?” both Sleepless and I asked. “What I mean is she moves slow,” she told us. Being old and moving slow are not necessarily the same. Neither Sleepless or I could not wait to react, so we both started laughing.

 

A little while later One And Done joined us. She had been out and about doing service projects with her beau and was ready for a drink. Her beau, however, was not drinking and instead of immediately joining us went to a local eatery with some of his friends. While One And Done sipped on wine and taped extensions in Sleepless’ hair, her phone rang. “Who is that?” Sleepless asked when she saw the caller ID that read, ‘Wait to react.’

 

Turns out ‘Wait to react’ is One And Done’s beau. She often responds too quickly to him and gives him too much credit than he deserves, so she logged him in her phone as ‘Wait to react.’ We all agreed that was a good idea.

 

Pretty soon, he showed up and mentioned he was hungry. Sleepless and Ice Cream Man reheated some food for them and he preceded to feed One And Done bites – of green beans only. No shrimp, no rice. Just green beans. Instead of saying something, I opted to be like One And Done and waited to react. In some people’s opinion, this behavior may make me look old. To that I say, “Hogwash.”

The simplest things are pleasing to me. While waiting to be interviewed at a local television station, I was watching their monitors. On one of the monitors I saw Iced Tea being interviewed and was surprised and excited to see that I would get to spend the morning with him – considering I had to get up at four (this is usually an hour that I go to bed, not get up), this was a big dea

 

I proudly watched Iced Tea do his interview and then waited for him to make his way around the bend; the same bend that I ran into while walking to grab a coffee, “I’m not usually up this early, my body doesn’t know it is supposed to be vertical and operative,” I told the producer. She didn’t need to know I always walk that way.

 

With my coffee in hand, I tried not to spill, and waited with anticipation for Iced Tea, but he never made his way round the bend. After some reassessing of the situation, I realized why he wasn’t making his way over. The monitors were not just for this station and were operating as they should, ‘monitoring’ all of the other local stations.

 

The monitor on which I saw Iced Tea was of another television station. I know I’m smarter than I get paid, but I am clearly not smarter than I look. You know those times when you see a reflection in a mirror or window and you are shocked to find yourself there? No? I know them all too well, which is another reason why I floss – so I can smile and look pretty for myself.

 

I was sharing this story with S-Unit and she advised me she, too, would be experiencing a couple of early mornings and long days while on location at a posh hotel. “I am in the midst of luxury and I won’t get to experience it because I’ll be working. I’ll be here all week,” she told me. The last line made me giggle as it reminded me of a stand-up comedian’s last act, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.” S-Unit felt the need to clarify this statement for me, “No, seriously, I’ll be here all week. All week. I’m not even kidding, I’ll be here all week. Working.” I continued to giggle because she is one funny comedian and I have a feeling if the place is as posh as she says she is sure to see someone famous – especially if it is equipped with mirrors and windows.

Unlike most Americans, I do not watch football and did not watch the Superbowl. I truly know nothing about the sport. To quote FatGirl, who was quoting a conversation shared by Tree about today’s game, “Straight guy – ‘Do you even know who is playing in the Superbowl?’ Gay guy – ‘Duh…yeah I do…Madonna.'” That’s the extent of my knowledge – thanks Tree and FatGirl.

 

While participating in a news interview this afternoon, I noticed Madonna on the monitor. “Oh, wow. My interview is in direct competition with Madonna,” I told the reporter. “No way. No competition. You’re way better than Madonna,” the reporter replied. “Why, thank you,” I said while striking a very vogue pose.

 

This is exactly why I work for coffee and pizza – moments like this. I came home and did what my friend once advised me to do: “google your name and wait.” This is what I found, “David Archuleta fan…..reacts to Archuleta loss..” I clicked on the link and a new page opened with this message, “We’re sorry, but something went wrong.” You can say that again.

Like so many people, my friends and I are not perfect. We may, however, and I say this with some reservation, be normal.

 

Like many friends, we are from various backgrounds and wear various sizes of clothing. Although our backgrounds may be ‘steady,’ for most of us, our clothing sizes are not. That’s the thing with weight. It is probably the one thing that, when lost, is most often found. I usually find mine on my back, on top of my jeans, or on my ass.

 

That’s Not Chinese recently attended a training where she learned that if one’s best friend is obese, they have a 53% chance of also being obese. “You may need to get a new BFF or bigger pants,” she told me. Obesity is defined by BMI – or Body Mass Index. I can say, with non-scientific certainty, that my BMI fluctuates on a regular basis and my BMs (bowel movements) are most likely to blame. I’ve delivered more than one healthy kid to the pool. I haven’t, however, delivered my body to the gym for a workout.

 

I regularly think about exercising. I’ll try on a pair of pants or, better yet, a bikini, and think, “I should really hit the gym again. Tomorrow. No, no, can’t do it tomorrow. Maybe the next day.” Then, I’ll have another bite of sea salt caramel ice cream. As a result, I have a case (not to be confused with a ‘six-pack’) of what I call ‘procrastinweight.’ Writing this makes me think I should do something about it….maybe tomorrow.

 

That’s Not Chinese stopped by to assist me with my babysitting job. I provided her loads of tips so she would be fully prepared to take on a side job like this. Sadly, the first task took both of us some time to tackle: setting up the portable playpen. I wasn’t surprised by this because I had witnessed the parents assembling it, on more than one occasion, and it often took them several attempts. Once we finally completed the task, That’s Not Chinese immediately found her wine.

 

Outsiders may think (and some have alluded) we are more apt to tend a bar than a child. In their eyes, we are Edina Monsoon and Patsy Stone of Ab Fab. We may be living on a different continent with different names and jobs, but we are them. Which makes MiniMe, Baby Q and any other child in our care, Saffy.

 

As I held Baby Q and shared the events of my previous evening with That’s Not Chinese, she shook her head, took a sip of her wine and said, “See, we’re not alcoholics, we’re European. So European.” This reminded me of a Patsy Stone quote, ” The last mosquito that bit me had to book into the Betty Ford Clinic.”