See Cup? (Vacation conversational snipets)

We all went to a bar Friday night and had WAY WAY WAY too many. During which the following conversation occurred between me and my friend CH (female). I've known her for 10 years, so she's more like an older sister than anything else - just for background.

CH: Yeah, DD said he can tell a girl's bra size just by looking at her.
Me: Oh yeah? Well I can tell a girl's bra size JUST by looking at her nipple!
CH: Well your NOT going to be seeing MY nipple!
Me: Then I don't CARE about YOUR bra size!

For some reason we laughed a lot that night (could it be the drinks?)

Sandcastle O' SirTalksALot

At 3:30 PM today (Friday) this blog is on vacation, and the author as well. I will be leaving Sunday morning at 5 AM for Corolla, NC, in the Outer Banks. As planned, we'll get there around 6 or 7 PM. There are 11 of us taking 3 vehicles and 1 more joining us in the beach house later in the week, so it's going to be a noisy party the whole time, I'm sure. Jelly fish, sharks, and hurricanes be warned....DO NOT spoil my time off!

And....while I'm there...I'll be turning 26 years old. Yup, Monday July 25 is my birthday. So finally, I'm passing the quarter century mark heading for the big 30. More mature? I think not.

Everyone have a wonderful week, and I'll give a run down of the sand in my ass on Monday, August 1. See ya soon!

Go Fly A Kite!

Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height!

Y'all remember that song from Mary Poppin's? Remember how happy the kids were to go flying a kite? Well, now I know why.....

My cousins, Gourda*, Bongo*, and I met for dinner last night at a Mediterranean restaurant. After being served our drinks by an 8 year old girl (hello child labor laws!) We order food. Mmmm hummus - 500,000,000 people in the Middle East eat hummus according to the menu. Not as many in the Midwest I'd venture to say, but regardless, Iz good? Yea? Hell yeah! On a freshly made pita! I'm thinking of going back tonight! Don't even get me started on the baklava! "Greek to me" now means I LOVE IT!

Exiting the restaurant we all experienced major gusts of wind (not in the bodily function type way, but in the prevailing westerlies kind of way). Prompting Gourda to suggest we "go fly a kite".... in the literal sense, not in the "go take a long walk off a short pier" kind of way. We stopped, got the kites out of Bongo's trunk, which evidently had been there for 5 years, and headed to a church nearby with 8 consecutive soccer fields behind it - plenty of room for kite flying!

Gourda had a bird shaped kite with a long curly tail. Bongo had one of those kites with two strings that you're supposed to be able to steer in circles or whatever. I had a simple triangular kite. Gourda asked me if I wanted "the bird" to which I retorted, "no thanks, I've already got two right here." (My middle fingers).

So I take off from soccer field number one and run and run, and run, and run, all the while letting my string unspool, and finally at field number 5, my kite caught some wind! Which took all of MY wind! I was huffing and puffing like a freight train! Anyhow, the kite kept pulling asking me to go "higher and higher" and I gave in and let it go all the way to the end of the spool! You could barely see the sucker! Why is holding a piece of string attached to freaking flying piece of fabric with sticks through it so enjoyable? Who knew? I'm not sure if the clouds saw an unidentified flying object and wanted to investigate, or what, but these big thunderheads started rolling in.

Well, finally, after several attempts, Gourda got the bird up (snicker). However, poor Bongo's kite must have been in a no fly zone, because other than when he threw it across the field in the package, it didn't leave the ground for more than a nanosecond.

None of us wanted to make the news as human lightening rods, so we reeled our toys in. Of course that takes forever! But in the end it was worth it all......such simple pleasures last forever.

And speaking of flying........ back at the apartment, Gourda handed me her "whittle-itty-bitty-baby Elfina" - a tiny Chihuahua to watch for a minute. Well I was sitting slouched in a dinning room chair and the creature was walking all over my stomach like a baby on a waterbed, being cute and whatever. So I made bird noises, like I do to all dogs, and this one decides to flip out! She's jumping up and down, flopping like a fish, and I"m going here and there and everywhere trying to catch her so she doesn't fall on the floor. Unexpectedly she runs up my shoulder before I could catch her, jumps, landing nose first on the carpet. Poor thing was ok after some sneezing fits. But now I'm sure it hates me. Whenever she came near me the rest of the evening her tail was tucked between her legs. I did give a peace offering of a doggie treat in attempts to smooth things over, but time will tell.

Observation: I'm good at flying a kite, I'm not good at flying a Chihuahua.

*Names have been changed to protect identities of those involved. Poor things would hate to have their real names on this site.

Chronicles of Bodily Functions - Chapter 3 - "Kiss Me NOT"

Our first date was to a coffee shop, she drank hot chocolate. "I don't like coffee" she said. But she did like to drink booze. Our second date we met some co-workers for drinks at the Shark Bar (since closed). She got trashed, but we won at pool. I thought it best I buy her dinner to soak up some of the drinkage. Our third date, we drank, she puked. Our fourth date, we drank, she puked. Our fifth date, we went dancing at Dick Clark's American Bandstand Grille, as we were kissing on the dance floor, she ran over to the juke box and puked behind it. Was it me? Nah couldn't be. Ironically, Dick Clark's is now closed. The next date, after dinner, we went to Scruffy's Bar, a dive if ever there was one, to meet her best friend. She went behind the building and puked. Her and her friend are no longer friends. One romantic evening, after hanging out with friends and eating pizza, drinking wine, and watching goofy movies, she puked. In the mulch. She covered it up like a cat does in a litter box. MEOW. That night she was upset that I hardly ever kissed her on our dates. HELLO? If you mean kiss you on the lips, or near your mouth, from which you just yakked....you're right, I'm not going to kiss you! GROSS lady! 6 months I dated her, 6 months. Oh, don't get me wrong, we had good times too. Like the time we went to Gatlinburg, TN and while I was in the shower, she came and knocked on the bathroom door. I thought I was about to get lucky again in the shower, but instead she was frantic and told me a tragic story. She'd accidently dropped her car keys down the elevator shaft of the hotel, thus locking her medication in the car. Due to Dolly Parton being in town a parade was blocking the way for the police and hotel maintenance to come rescue us. Finally the police came and jimmied the lock, the hotel staff repelled down the elevator shaft and got the car keys. I got trashed that night, but didn't puke. We went hiking the next day. I wanted to go to the end of the trail. She complained of having weak ankles. HUH? She planned a trip to the mountains and had weak ankles....WHAT? I decided the only way to deal with the trip was with massive amounts of wine at dinner. I almost puked, but didn't. AND I got to eat chocolate chip pancakes at IHOP the morning of departure. YUM!

Chronicles of Bodily Functions - Chapter 2 - "My First Brownie"

My first record industry party was quite the ordeal. Mind you I'm not in the record industry, but I had a friend that was into promotions or something of that nature. I agreed to go because nobody else wanted to go, and I soon found out why. You just stand around and/or sit around these tables in the VIP room, and some people over there are passing illicit materials under the table, and that table over there people are about to procreate. Now, now, use protection! I saw that same hoochie-mamma down at Iggy Pop's bumping and grinding on every other guy in town. Then after you've heard the most horrendous band in the world they come up to the VIP room and everyone gives them false compliments like "I can't wait until your CD's released" or "That was awesome!" or "If your CD is anything like the live act you're going to be rich!" Yeah right, they sucked hairy ass. And the whole time I'm at the open bar "Gimme 'nother, an' don be shin, I mean....chin-cheee Huh?...chincyyyy? S'what I said."

Well after the band goes into their VIP room off the VIP room, everyone in the VIP room high tails it for the door before the band comes out whacked on whatever pharmaceutical they're into this particular week. My friend was like "Man let's scram before those jerks come out on their Scooby Snacks." Seriously it was like a fire drill because all the people were rushing for the stairs and the door. I'm kinda wishing I'd stuck around to see what happens when a no name band almost has a name. They probably just break things, which is what every boring band does when they're trying to assert themselves.

Anyway, back to my bodily functions. Uhm, Ok. Where was I? Oh yeah, we left that drag of a party and went to this party in SoHo in an enormous loft. Folks, this was the most amazing loft I've ever seen, it took up the entire floor of this building, and it had a "studio" of equal size attached! In the studio were many, many Corona's. I drank half of them. The smell of delicious chocolate decadence was wafting through the party and someone shouts, "YAY! The Brownies are done!". Mmmm, brownies? I'm starving! The reason I was starving was because I hadn't eaten the entire day, and people at this place had homemade cigs *if you know what I mean* just laying around all over and MAYBE I second-handedly had inhaled the by-products. So I'm so stupid and fu*ked up that I didn't realize why everyone at the party wanted to eat these brownies. DUH....(I was very sheltered growing up).

Blah, blah, blah...I meet a bunch of people, and I barely remember them, but I do remember this chic that had long hair, long nose, long fingers, and long legs and thought, "is she Shelly Long, cuz everything is LONG on her" but evidently I didn't just think it, I'd said it out loud and this fat Buddy Holly look alike said "That may be the dumbest thing I've ever heard" and we laughed about it for 10 minutes (yeah, go figure). So after being insulted by Fatty Holly, but forgiving him because it turned out to be his apartment, I left. Suddenly I didn't remember where I was. I was in SoHo, which I'd been in a million times before, and now I was standing on Broadway lost. That's right, the "brownie" kicked in. Damn Duncan Hi(gh)nes.

I had to take a step, look around, take another step, look around so I could make some progress. I was too embarrassed and scared to ask anyone where the subway was, because well, not to dis myself but I was a mess. And so it was, that I had to pee! Great! It was like 4 AM Sunday night/Monday morning, nothing was open. I found a car lot and unburdened my self on the wall (civilized right?) Ooo look there's my subway! So I finally get the train back to Brooklyn. (I'd just moved there so I was still a little skeptical about any stops other than my own).

The train is crossing the Manhattan Bridge and the strongest Gotta-Shit-NOW-and-it's-gonna-be-liquid sensation comes over me. I'm doubling over in pain and doing LAMAS breathing exercises to keep the stopper on what I know is going to be the grossest experience of my life. I hold it for a couple stops, but I'm so frightened that my intestines are going to bust internally that I hop off the Subway at some unknown stop which looks very abandoned and the kind of place a mugging could occur. The train pulls away and I just think "well, here goes crap down my legs and in my pants, so I lean against the wall beside a trash can and let loose the loudest fart in the world. I'm not lying, it echoed! Good thing I'm alone and what a relief it wasn't drizzly doo-doo! But wait....there's laughter. I look on the other side of the trash can and there are Harry and Henrietta Homeless making out and laughing at me! Well, I'm way sick now and don't even bother telling them to get a job.

I catch the next train home and barely make it before the REAL shit comes. I called in sick and laid in bed for two days except to go potty. My boss was concerned by my sudden and violent "flu", but what was I going to say "Oh I can't come in cuz Corona's coming out my ass?" Whatever was in that brownie really confused my internal signalling systems! For Real!