Tuesday, October 26, 2010
****
Hey, Internet!
Hey, Internet!
I'm back. And I'm sorry about the long silence. I've been a rolling stone, coming home only long enough to potentially infiltrate my house with bed bugs from the various hotels and then I'm off again.
But I'm home now. For a very long time, I hope.
Believe it or not, I am a homebody and all this coming and going has me discombobulated and slaphappy and ruffled and all those other really fun words.
Which by the way, did you know that ruffles are really in fashion right now? And nothing could make me happier, because I am a ruffly kind of girl. I even have new shoes with these leather ruffles, which I would show you, but I don't feel like taking the picture and uploading it right now. Maybe another time, when I'm less, you know, lazy.
And see, here I am doing what I do best already, veering completely off track. Did you miss me for that, Internet?
I have so much to tell you, I can't stand it. I'm so backed up on vacation tales that I should just rename my blog, All My Vacation Stories.
Cause that would bring in the readers, for sure.
But here's a story that happened a few weeks ago and I have to get it off my chest right away, because this? Might possibly be my most mortifying moment of all times.
Hands down, it beats Pirate Lesbian in a naked boobie shirt.
This one slipped my feeble mind for a few days until suddenly, like post traumatic stress disorder, I had this flashback, this horrible, horrible flashback and it was so cringeworthy, I doubled over at the sink where I was washing dishes, when I remembered this flashback.
You see, I am the world champion at mortifying myself and at inserting my ruffly heel into my mouth, a mouth that runs like the worst case of Mexican diarrhea.
You ready?
I don't think you are, but I'm going to tell you anyway.
A few weeks ago, my Hubby and I traveled up to North Florida. We had some family business to attend to, but there was also my Hubby's class reunion.
We had a good time . . . a little too good of a time.
We met up with our dear friend, Allie, while we were there. Allie was not a member of my Hub's graduating class, but we always love having Allie tag along with us because she is major fun. And I am major fun. And you get the two of us together and it's like combining gasoline and oxygen. There's going to be some KAPOW and some BLAM.
And so . . .
Before we went to the reunion, Allie met us up in our lovely hotel where we had some wine.
And if I can pinpoint where the trouble began, I would definitely have to say it was when my hubs pulled out that first bottle of wine out of his wine carrier.
And yes, he has one of these:
Except his holds twelve bottles.
My hubby is known as The Magic Pourer in our circle of family and friends. The Magic Pourer is akin to a lethal weapon because when you're in his presence, your wine glass always stays magically full.
You can drink 2,000 glasses of wine in one sitting and never realize it because my Hubby has mastered the art of subtly refilling your glass.
Allie and I were The Magic Pourer's victims that night.
That's right, I'm blaming it on the a-a-a-alchohol.
Or more like the wine.
After our 1,345 glasses of wine at the hotel, we made our way to dinner where we had, you guessed it, more wine.
And that might be where the trouble began.
At one point, Allie had to use the ladies room and since going to the bathroom is a ladies team sport, I accompanied her.
As Allie was washing her hands, I noticed this lovely, ornate box sitting next to the sink. I lifted the lid and discovered a plethora of tampons. There had to be at least 50 tampons in this wooden chest.
It was tampon heaven.
Allie gasped at the sight of so many tampons and said she could really use some tampons since she was running low on her stash.
And that was when the wine told me what to do.
I smiled and told her to open her purse.
I scooped up every single one of those tampons and shoved them into her purse.
It was a big purse.
We were gasping for breath through our laughter as we tampon thieves made our way back to the table.
And we continued to giggle our way through dinner, which was a good thing since our waiter certainly wasn't putting us in a happy mood. In fact, we hated him.
He was a cute, young Greg Brady type with shaggy hair, the kind of hair that is meant to look unkempt and mussed up, but in reality, everyone knows there is a lot of time and hair product involved.
He also had a very strange affectation to his speech. Kind of a combination between surfer boy and paralyzed tongue.
He also had a very strange affectation to his speech. Kind of a combination between surfer boy and paralyzed tongue.
And we didn't hate him for his boy band hair or his paralyzed tongue. No. We hated him for his attitude. He was not, in any way, rude or neglectful of our food needs. But what he was neglectful of, was our 40-something year old womanly needs.
It started out when I asked him for his dinner recommendations. You see, I have ordering anxiety. Deciding on an entree throws me into such a fit of angst, I usually ask the wait staff what I should have.
Greg Brady said, "Ah wlould glo wilth thle grlouper, flor slure."
I don't like grouper. And so I told him this. And Greg Brady acted like I had just told him I didn't like his girlfriend, Yellowfin. I mean, he was seriously peeved that I didn't like grouper.
And as the night progressed, things just got worse. For one reason and one reason only.
Greg Brady did not know how to play around with majorly fun women who have a purse full of tampons.
It's not like we wanted him to flirt. Okay, well maybe we did. But it's not like we wanted his number or a kiss. Eww, especially not a kiss. That would have been super gross with a paralyzed tongue.
We just wanted Greg Brady to smile and laugh with us. We wanted him to call us Lovely Ladies and reassure me with a wink and tell me it was okay I didn't like grouper, that the filet was just as excellent of a choice.
In an effort to extract any bit of charm out of him, we asked him his name and you'll never guess what his name was.
And no, it wasn't Greg Brady. That would have been seriously weird.
His name was Barry, as in Barry Williams who played Greg Brady.
Well, we all burst into laughter when he told us his name and not wanting to leave Barry out of the joke we explained it to him.
Barry smiled . . . thinly.
And that is when Allie and I decided we hated Barry.
The rest of the night our conversation was punctuated with random declarations of "I hate Barry!"
And finally we decided we could take no more of Barry's thin smiles and brisk replies and his indignation towards me and my hatred of his beloved grouper.
We decided we needed to school him on his treatment of 40-something-year old women.
The wine told us we needed to do just this thing.
Allie took the lead and when Barry came back to serve me my dinner which was NOT grouper and to smile thinly, she quietly, well, maybe not too quietly, informed him that he needed to modify his attitude towards 40-something year old women. She told him that we 40-somethings appreciate a man who takes the time to smile and not thinly. She let him know we like a man who partakes in the give and take witty repertoire that 40-something-year-old women have down to a science and that we appreciate attention. And yes, we really appreciate flirty attention. She also added that it certainly couldn't be too hard to give us attention since, and these are Allie's words, not mine, since we are hot looking 40-something-year- olds. And even though we have a few crows' feet and can no longer show our ta tas in public without a good bra unlike the 20-something-year-olds, we have something very important that 20- something-year- olds with their perky ta tas and smooth faces do not have.
We have money. And that trumps perky ta ta's any day when you are the waiter.
My hubby was laughing so hard, I thought he would fall off his chair.
Barry stood there, looking into the distance as Allie schooled him, clearly wishing he was serving the table next to us with the twin toddlers who were busy smashing up their dinner and throwing it on the floor.
As soon as Allie finished and Barry fled, I announced, "Man, I HATE Barry!"
My hubby said, "Um, he's standing right behind you."
And still that wasn't the insert the foot in the mouth moment.
After the tampon smuggling and Barry hating dinner, we headed over to the first night of the reunion at a local pub.
And that was when the wine told Allie and I we needed to be the talk of the reunion.
And so we sat at the bar, front and center, and while the classmates all hugged each other, catching up on old times, Allie proceeded to drape herself all over me.
Nothing bad or too over the top. We leave that kind of girl friendly to the younger sag-free generation.
We were just very nice to each other. She rubbed my back, kissed my cheek, kept her arm around me, held my hand. Nice things. Things that kept every man in the bar fixated on us as they pretended to have conversations with those around them.
My Hubby asked us what we wanted our name tags to say and in fun girl fashion we answered in unison, "Bambi!" We were Bambi I and Bambi II for the rest of the night.
It wasn't until the end of the night, did we realize that Allie had been dropping tampons out of her overstuffed purse all night long. Tampons as far as the eye could see. So, there we were the two Barbies leaving a Hansel and Gretel trail of tampons.
As we left for the night, my hubby called out to the bartender, "Thanks! We left you some tampons."
And still that wasn't the mortifying moment. That was the fun moment.
The following night of the reunion, Allie stayed home, leaving Bambi I to face the gossiping crowds alone.
My Hubs went off to find friends, so I perused the really bad buffet. Seriously, who serves chicken nuggets at an elegant dinner party? Were they trying to recreate the school lunch menu?
I never have a problem doing that—standing alone at a cocktail party, that is— I didn't mean the eating of chicken nuggets because I do kind of have a problem with eating chicken nuggets at a grownup event.
But I'm not intimidated by making small talk with random folks. Heck, I could be stuck at a party with a mute whose only passion was NASCAR, (a phenomenon I do not understand or care for) and I could still carry on a lively conversation.
And that was what led me to small talk with the dude who was also just a spouse. We were having a great conversation until another dude joined us and started talking about local zoning restrictions and the talk started sounding like this to me: "Bwaa, bwaa, bwaaa, bwaa, bwaaa, bwaa, bwaa."
I was discreetly looking for someone less boring to talk to, when the first dude nudged me and asked, "What do you think? I'm saying that hug's just a little too long."
He pointed with his drink towards a couple hugging it out at the door.
He pointed with his drink towards a couple hugging it out at the door.
The guy involved in the hugging was a tall, very handsome man. The woman hugger had hips that were approximately the width of the door.
The boring zoning dude chimed in, "I totally agree. Way too long of a hug."
And now these boring dudes had my attention! Salacious reunion gossip? I. Am. In.
I looked over and nodded and said, "That hug is waaaay too long . . . for him. She, on the other hand, is getting herself a good groping. That is certainly a case of her wanting some more of that and him thinking, 'Get me out of this hug before you smother me."
And yes, I know I can be an ass. I am very assy quite a bit of the time, actually.
And that— that one moment—that moment that will forever be branded into in my memory with a red hot burning branding iron is when the man said , , , you ready?
"That's my wife!!!"
Yup. I am so glad these reunions are only every ten years.
Today's Definite Download: Boston's "Don't Look Back." Because, this is one slam bang good reunion song, but also because I'm just trying not to look back, man. Because, if I do, it might just kill me in embarrassment.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
52 comments:
Oh, I have missed you Bambi!! This was awesomely fabulous!
Yup. Missed you terribly. Belly laughed the whole way through your post. Thank you for being you, and sharing!
I'm totally blaming the guy- b/c he shouldn't have said anything about his wife in the first place.
Love the Bambis! You sound like you were a lot of fun!
If I could attach pics to comments I would show you that I have that wine carrier right next to my computer right now. I'm majorly jealous that yours holds 12 and mine only 6.
Also, I thought of you the other day when I went to pick up my son from preschool- I wanted to skip the horrendously long pick-up line and just go in to get him...except I didn't put shoes on and didn't want to go in barefoot. Maybe not quite a lesbian pirate, but still- "that mom."
Oh my sweet Lord 7 lb. 6 oz. Baby Jesus! That sounds exactly like something I might have done.
And if I were you the first thing I would have thought was "Where the hell is Bambi II? Why isn't she here?"
Barry sounds like a dick and I hope he got a minimal tip from Mr. Husband.
"And that was when the wine told me what to do."
You complete me.
It's official, we have to get together and be horrible to annoying waiters... and have way too much fun with people we barely know - if we know them at all.
I too am one of those alway-find-a-way-to-end-the-night-with-foot-in-mouth.
Ways the night could have been worse:
1) she could have been his mistress
2) it could have been a trail of condoms
3) it could have been your husband with his wife
Oh my gosh, we have GOT. TO. HANG. OUT.
And I need some clarification, was it boring man's wife or the other guy?
Excellent, excellent.
Tears of laughter here and a little be of pee! One look at that photo of the two of you and I lost it. I thought for sure Greg Brady was going to be the server at the reunion.
Glad you're back. Need to go change my panties now.
Just once...for one evening...I would like to be in the same room as you are. I would like to be a first hand witness to these things.
I think my life would be complete.
Oh lord. I missed you dearly. Can't help but smile and I would totally be there and Allie stealing feminine hygiene products and making snarkilicious comments to Barry the wonder waiter!
Enjoy the day!
Erin
And THAT, my friend, is what we call "blog fodder": that which is difficult to live through, but which is made tolerable in the fact that it will entertain readers. :)
Oh dear. Well, you know, he shouldn't have set up potential derogatory remarks to be made about his wife like that. My husband would never stand in a group and point me out without explaining that I was his wife first. He had it coming and you know what? The truth is the truth.
First, I would love your husband. And I want to hang out with you because you are a riot!! That's a hilarious story and just what I needed :)
By the retelling of that evening right there: anyone can tell: YOU LOVE TO WRITE.
Hilarious, the trail of tampons..
naughty 40 yr old women with money and facials...a dangerous thing.
Oh my Lord. How do you live this life???
Seriously, your whole life is blog fodder. So it's convenient that you are a blogger.
Sounds like a fun weekend, until the hug part. I hope you're having some detox :) snort.
I want to go to your next party. honestly.
And I think that turd bird set you up on the hug thing.
Oh, you so should have left Barry a fistful of tampons emblazoned with I HATE BARRY.
Skeee!
Joann, someone needs to sign you up pronto to a sitcom. You would be hilarious to watch! I wouldn't have cared about insulting Barry, either.
I can't figure out why you didn't leave Barry a tampon.
And I love, love, love Boston. Well, their older stuff.
That's totally 'cause I am older stuff.
Woowoo.
I so want to go out with you all one night.. and since I am not a drinker but could do all of those things without the help of alcohol..
OMG! That is way too funny! You must have died! lol
That was so embarrassing that I could barely read it.
But I did.
And I loved it.
Because my top ten mortifying moments are lame in comparison!
what to say!!
you are hilarious. and I would need to nap before going out with you. just in case. and wear pee my pants protection . especially if there is wine drinking involved.
I knew it!! I just knew I was going to laugh 'til I peed! Leave it to Joann to have way more fun than the rest of us!
We missed our reunion, but a friend sent us pictures. Rod's only comment, "They look SO OLD!"
Yep, they do! And if he would take off those rose-colored glasses, he would see that SO DO WE!!!
re: Barry
If you ladies need help burying the body have your wine talk to my wine and I'll be there in the bat of a fake eyelash.
Open mouth, insert tampon! Yikes! It's a good thing you're so damn cute....you can get away with these remarks!
I just love your stories!
Snort laughing funny! I so live vicariously through your tales!
Greatest story of all time. In fact, I am thinking of forwarding it to the real Barry for his approval.
As for the tampons, I think you should have tipped Barry with them.
When I grow up I want to be you. Seriously.
That is HYSTERICAL!! Omg. Also you are WAY too much fun. Can you come with me to my next reunion?
I had kind of forgotten just how cute Greg was until I saw that picture.
Certainly much cuter than Barry! Ew.
I love that your friend told him off.
The tampons?? That is the sort of thing that happens to me.
Oh. My. God. If I had had Bambi 1 to go to a reunion with, I may have attended at least one!!!
Poor Barry! (not really)
I want a picture of the guy when he said that was his wife! LOLing!
This whole story sounds like something that would totally happen to me. But the guy who brought up the long hug, started it!!
I think I told this story somewhere else, but I once asked a gal friend of mine, whom I hadn't seen in quite a while, how her boyfriend/significant other Skip was. Her reply? "Skip died."
Hahahaha!!! What did the hubby say to that?? I mean, what did he expect really? You were at a reunion where you didn't know anyone. I would have assumed it was smack talking time too.
I missed you! And I have been MIA too-ugh.
So I need to go out with you guys, clearly.
I also need a wine carrier and someone to keep my glass magically full.
Thanks for the survival tip--if I am ever lost, I know now what to mark my trail with! Brilliant!!!!
Nice to see you back, Matey!!
Oh wow...I am blushing for you...thanks for the belly laugh.
So glad you enjoy my pics...come on over..you can always stay with us!!!
Oh that is just too funny!
Once at the pool, I made a comment on the heavy kid on the diving board. Nothing mean, just that he had put on a lot of weight. It was the boy of the lady next to me. It is a fact that one cannot disappear into a lawn chair.
Loved the Barry story, too. Having been a waitress for many years, I am one tough cookie when it comes to putting up with the likes of Barry.
There are so many insanely hysterical and awesome parts of this story. Truly, like something you'd seen in a movie!
I didn't know you were such a good time to hang out with, Joann! And do you ever question why your husband just sits back and watches you and Allie let the wine make you do things? :)
I'm tempted to count the characters to see if it would mee the Twitter limit, but would make a kick-ass tweet: Greg Brady did not know how to play around with majorly fun women who have a purse full of tampons.
Oh My Gosh.
That
Was
Awesome.
Oh this just might be my favorite Joann tale ever. On the bright side, at least you did not say anything about his wife's hips being as wide as the door. Right?
BTW, you've heard of karma, haven't you? Because, I'm tellin' ya friend, you are so going to be in serious need of a tampon one day with NO tampon in site. And no toilet paper. Wearing white. That's how that works, y'see? If your hubby sends me that wine bag, though, I may be able to remove the karmic curse. We chickens are well versed in the voodoo.
And just one more thing. I HATE Barry.
OMG it sounds like you had such a terrific time, and it made me want to go out and let the wine do the talking!
Glad you got a years worth of tampons. That's kind of like winning a small estrogenic lottery...everybody hates buying feminine hygiene products, so you guys are set! (I've stuffed rolls of toilet paper in my purse once! Only once, I swear!)
congrats on your visit to Tampon Heaven and please tell me that you don't really own shoes with leather ruffles
Oh for shame!
And I HATE Barry too. How RUDE.
I am currently planning my high school reunion, please feel sorry for me.
Yay! I am so happy that Sarah has preschool this morning. I needed this!!!
That was mortifying indeed.
My dad has his reunion and he is not good at small talk. He is too honest for small talk and he kind of forgets what "not" to say.
A guy came up to him and was talking to him and all of a sudden my dad said, "I remember you. Your dad robbed the liquor store!"
My mom just walked away.
Awesome. You are getting an official standing ovation from me right now. And the next time you're in North Florida? I want to hang with the Bambis.
Barry sucks. period.
Speaking of periods, do you have a tampon I could have? There weren't any more in the bathroom for some reason.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha. I did the same thing one time, when a neighbor kid was in my truck with me and I made an unkind comment about a guy walking in the 'hood, and then she said that was her father. D'oh! You can't take back shit that comes out of your mouth without forethought and hangs in the air. For hours.
Love,
Your Sister Ass Across the Country
You're one hot ticket, you are! The tampons would be the fun moment to me, too ;)
Post a Comment