Last year I was working with That’s Not Chinese and she started to suspect she might get laid off (due to the economy).
I thought she would be fine until that horrible day when her “boss” asked to meet with her later. That’s Not Chinese asked if she was being laid off – she was given a piece of chocolate cake and told not to worry about it. She threw the cake in the bin.
Six hours later, That’s Not Chinese and I were drinking Sebastiani Cabernet Sauvignon (this is sort of a wine blog, so I have to give credit to the wines) and discussing the dangers of chocolate cake.
We decided to make lemonade out of discarded chocolate cake and had a “S.O.L.D.G.A.F.” (Shit Out of Luck and Don’t Give A Fuck) potluck. Friends were invited to bring appetizers, drinks, resumes, unemployment tips, wigs, etc. It was swell!
Today, at work, I was offered a piece of chocolate cake. I immediately sent a text/pic to That’s Not Chinese, “Chocolate cake…..am I sealing my fate?” She provided swift and sound advice, “Don’t do it, don’t do it!”
I opted against parcaking. I’m not drinking the Kool-Aid either.
Q and her husband are expecting. As a result, they’ve had a lot of important discussions about their wee one. The most recent discussion revolved around the looks of the child. Q’s husband suggested there is a chance the child could be ugly.
Now Q and her man are attractive, so his comment might seem strange if it weren’t for the fact that a lot of really beautiful people are made by some rather unattractive donors (with sweet inner souls, I’m sure). Being Q’s friends we advised her she’ll know right away if her child is ugly just by looking at her (yes, she’s having a girl). Next sign that she’s ugly, these types of comments, “Oh, your baby is so, um, young,” or “You’re stopping at one, right?”
V told Q she thought for sure they switched babies on her in the hospital because the child she birthed looked nothing like the attractive child they returned to her room several hours later. A quick comparison of the hospital bracelets and V discovered she, a beautiful woman, can also make beautiful children. Just lucky I guess.
It was winter when I had my daughter. Living in a cold, dry and snowpacked town my lips were slightly chapped. I mentioned this to my midwife and he suggested using some of my amniotic fluid on my lips. That’s right, the “water just broke” fluid that protects the fetus. Apparently, it can double as a lip protectant. Unfortunately, it’s only available for a limited time.
Although I remembered my midwife’s advice when my water broke, I opted to deal with the chapped lips. This decision had nothing to do with any sort of amniotic fluid on my lips aversion. It’s just, once you’ve reached that point, the only thing you can think about is whether or not your baby will be attractive.
Last year Fru Fru Pants and I decided to buy season tickets to one of the local theaters. Tonight was our monthly outing so we stopped at a local eatery for some food and drinks before the show. Waiter Gip knew right away that we were heading to the show.
I asked Fru Fru Pants, “Does something about us scream play?” She replied, exactly how I knew she would, “I always scream ‘play,’ but that’s just me.”
In case you were wondering, and because the url implies I might partake, I decided to pair an Italian Pinot Grigio with chowder, oysters, dessert, Twelve Angry Men and intermittent naps during the play. I found this to be an excellent pairing.
As we started making our way home we were discussing stalkers and technology, specifically GPS devices. We thought it might be nice if, when we got lost while using our GPS device, because we accidentally changed the language setting to French or Pirate-wait, that’s facebook-our stalker could just pipe in, “Don’t be dim, turn right, turn right…..Oh, and I really liked that orange outfit you wore yesterday.”
T came to visit me in my office today and some of the stuff she was telling me had me ROFL. Not really. I mean, she did say a lot of funny things, but I didn’t ROFL.
We decided that from now on when people say something funny, instead of laughing, we are going to repeat, with no breaths in between, “LOL, LOL, LOL, LOL, LOL,” occasionally followed with a deep and winded, “Oh, oh, ROFL, LMAO, stop, you’ve got to stop,” all the while holding our side and buckling over. OMG, just typing this makes me LOL.
We were talking about relationships and marriage when she made a comment which inspired me to ask if she and her beau had plans to marry. She sweetly replied they did. I reminded her she would need to get a divorce first (she has been separated from her “husband” for many, many moons) and she said, “I know, I keep forgetting about that.”
The idea of continuing to forget about it and move on with the new marriage was discussed – she stated that would be bigamy and I replied, “Ah, who cares anyway!?! What’s the BIGamy idea?!?!
That really got her going. She started LOLing and ROFLing repeatedly. TTFN.
This evening I was chatting with my BFF about clutter, cleaning and cleansing. We decided to clean our nightstands while on the phone and, in doing so, I came across a lot of old cards and documents that should have been junked long ago.
I thought about all of the ways I could “cleanse” myself of these tattered bits of my past and decided that instead of getting rid of the energy (which I had tried earlier at NIA), I would tear it, shred it, burn it and toss it in the bin for morning retrieval to ensure a complete cleanse.
You see, I’ve tried spiritual cleansing and speaking to the universe (note to universe: may be time for you to get a hearing aid….BFF and I compared notes and it seems neither of us have been heard) and it seems when I speak to or throw the negative energy to the universe, it just boomerangs right back to me.
I think I’ve given the universe several chances. I even googled it today to make sure I had the right “address.” My search was informative. I learned humans are advanced “pattern recognition machines;” a universal concept I can buy.
Once a week, I roll my bin curbside, the truck comes by, retrieves the contents, and I never see them again. This is a pattern I recognize, respect and appreciate because it is boomerang free. To this day, I have never had my bin come back full (probably because I pay my utility bill).
I can’t believe I’m one day late on my blog! As a result, I feel like I’m ready to give birth to loads of thought. You’re probably all wondering why I didn’t blog yesterday and the answer is simple: Jackson Hole. I got a last minute invitation to visit Wyoming and couldn’t resist. I love a road trip!
Me and V had a great time tooling around the town. While looking at the museum (which was closed, so we only looked at it), we talked about how much fun it would have been to live during the “wild, wild west days.” Then we (or maybe just I) talked about how great it would have been to be a wench, living among the pirates. V is convinced I just like the sexual aspect and I advised her that really wasn’t it at all, I like the clothes.
We made our way to the infamous Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, started mingling with other tourists, danced a little, and then started taking pics. Some of the other tourists wanted V and I to get in on their pics. V quickly replied, “No way, I don’t want that to end up on myface.” She’s so crazy! Myface. Funny! So, the rest of the night we joked with her about ending up on her face.
My friend, let’s call her Fru Fru Pants (that’s another story for another day), was telling me she dated this guy for a bit and one day he told her she was “milk toast.” Huh. I would refer to Fru Fru Pants as many things, like Fru Fru Pants, but never milk toast.
So, while at the viewing of That’s Not Chinese friend’s grandmother, That’s Not Chinese informed me her grandmother loved milk toast. I immediately sent a text to Fru Fru Pants telling her this trivial bit of information. She responded quickly with “I love milk toast.” To which I aptly replied, “You are what you eat. You are milk toast!”
The very next day (yesterday) we run into the “milk” man and I knew he was toast! I could not stop myself from asking him what Fru Fru Pants might be if we truly are what we eat. He asked me what she had for breakfast and I told him I didn’t know. He then told me he was a burrito. Funny, I would have thought scrambled eggs or fruity pebbles.
Today was interesting. Mostly, because it was. I thought about expounding on this and then decided I would save it for group.
More importantly, I made plans and implemented plans with some of my favorite people. In doing so, I got to experience a lot of great conversation. My favorite today was when my friend (not the “that’s not Chinese” friend) told me she lost five pounds. I looked at her, did some quick observation, and then said, “Stop looking. I found it. It’s on your back.” Yes, we’re still friends. I was kidding!
Later, I got to have drinks and dinner with a familiar friend and a new friend. I love new friends because all of my stories are new to them. For dinner, I paired a lovely grigio (don’t act surprised) with a BLT salad and a tollhouse pie. Delicious. After dinner, we had red wine. Thus, red and white unite. That’s all I’ve got.
Today I went with That’s Not Chinese to a viewing (yes, I hire out for family events – mine excluded). The funeral is tomorrow and her family has asked her to say “the prayer.” If you knew That’s Not Chinese, you would know she, literally, does not have a prayer in this arena. Being the supportive type, I helped her come up with some ideas.
We thought of rapping : As we gather hear today, I’ve got something to say, bow your head, close your eyes (glance around the room to make sure they’ve done so and then make a mad dash for the door). We discussed just speaking the lyrics to Living on a Prayer. Who argues that? It’s a karaoke and piano bar favorite.
Last, and I think the best suggestion, Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” The beginning is perfect: God? (spoken) Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone. I hear you call my name and it feels like home….(slightly spoken).
None of these ideas we’re really working forThat’s Not Chinese, so I gave her the best advice I had, “Next time, don’t fall for prayer pressure.”
My friend was reading my blog today and advised me, “Uh, sushi, yea, that’s not Chinese.” Touché (like sushi, this word is not Chinese). I thanked her for educating me about this matter and informed her the restaurant in which I was dining featured both Japanese and Chinese cuisine. In addition, I told her I do not see “ethni,” just city.
We then started talking about my ethni (silent) city and I told her I am a chameleon, mostly dependent upon the type of food I’m ordering. Based on the old days of segregation, I’m Greek in the cemetery; unfortunately this information has not helped me into posh Greek establishments. Now that I think about it, I’m part Asian. Half Cauc, half Asian. CaucAsian.