Month: February 2012

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.”

DDDG loves an opportunity to wear her fur boots. So, when her friends came in town from Czech Republic to compete in the Freestyle World Cup, she pulled out the boots and we headed up to the competition.

 

One of the little Czech girls was consumed by the sight of the boots. “Is that real?” she asked. “Yes, it’s rabbit,” DDDG replied. “What happened to the rest of the rabbit?” she asked. “We ate it,” DDDG told her. “Nice way to break it to her gently,” I told DDDG.

 

DDDG introduced me to her friends and they advised me my name was similar to another furry friend, liška – a fox. Add an ‘e’ to the front and you’ve got me, Fox E. Unlike an actual fox, I’m not so wary of humans and the Czechs and I quickly became friends.

 

We went to their home for dinner and immediately started drinking. “This is how it goes all of the time with them – very European,” DDDG advised me. I hadn’t tried Czech beer, so they insisted I do so. They had a brand new bottle of scotch whisky and were leaving the next day, so they insisted we all drink that. Then, they had four bottles of wine, which also had to be consumed, so we drank that too. With my beer, scotch whisky and wine in front of me they informed me I looked, “very European.”

 

When DDDG and I finally left the house, leaving behind great friends and several unfinished beverages, they bid us farewell and stated they hoped to see us in Europe soon. We also hope to see them in Europe soon – if DDDG can get her rabbit boots and Eliška through customs, we’ll be there in no time!

 

 

Wednesday Night Hair Night always seems to have it’s nuances. This week, we were down a stylist. Luckily, we had two lined up so we were still able to meet the needs of our most important client: Opreggano.

 

As a woman with child, her level of bitchiness is off the charts. I can say this publicly, because she and I regularly have this talk. As we were sitting around the table discussing who would be the first to get their hair done, we unanimously decided it would be Opreggano. “Are you going to just do a color or are you also going to get a sl,” as I was asking this question I realized I almost said slice. I stopped mid-word and corrected it, “cut?” Opreggano, on top of her game, quickly quipped, “Were you going to ask me if I was going to get a slut cut!?!?” I wasn’t, but we decided, unanimously (again), to officially change the name to Slut Cuts. Based on the attendees, this name was more than appropriate.

 

While Opreggano was being pampered, we made another group decision about my hair. This decision was not unanimous. I’ve been considering going platinum for some time and, like a platinum record, this does not happen overnight. In addition, there are some people who don’t think I could pull it off. Thus, we put it to vote. Opreggano and MiniMe were outvoted and I began my journey toward Paris Hiltonesque, aka, total slut cut.

 

As we discussed this, Oh Wow mentioned she has been “waking up with a smile” lately thanks to two guys she is seeing. One is her neighbor, the other isn’t. “I’m not sure about the neighbor. He just got out of a relationship and I don’t want to be a rebound girl,” she told us. We advised her against being a rebound girl and for letting him bounce on her. “It is really great,” she continued to tell us. “I’ll just send a text, tell him to knock lightly and….” And bounce. No need to be a rebound when you can be bouncebound. “I may have to change your blog name,” I told her. “To bounce?” she asked. “No, to Knock Lightly,” I replied. This made Knock Lightly get a little blushy.