Why Cats are Smarter Than Men

Disclaimer: I suck at blogging and started writing this the last week in July.

So last week (month?) I started writing a post about this whole Chick-fil-a thing. I had refrained from commenting about it on Facebook ... but then I saw something that pissed me off ... so I started writing about it. But then I got so worked up, and I started crying, and the last sentence I had written was something along the lines of: I didn't CHOOSE to be born a white chick from the suburbs ... and I realized I should chill the fuck out. 

So INSTEAD I figured I'd write about what it's like being the Toothless Wonder. I came up with that nickname myself. And actually, no one calls me that. But I think it's funny, and I keep referring to myself as such. I don't think anyone has even SMILED when I've said "toothless wonder." Except me. 

The point of that last paragraph is that my friends suck at life and don't know funny when it's jammed up their nose. EXCEPT for Courtney because she calls herself Camel Court ... none of us knew that either. (It's because she drinks a lot of water ... obviously?)

ANYWAY, as I'm writing this I realized that life as the toothless wonder isn't very different from life NOT being the toothless wonder.

So I'll write about drinking.

Last Thursday my friend Rebecca and I went out to dinner. Life decided to kick her in the face a few weeks ago, and I decided it was my mission to take her mind off things and get her tipsy. I may not be able to fix problems ... but I can make you forget about them for a while. You're welcome. 

But, (side note) speaking of getting kicked in the face by life, I'm convinced that the world decided to give all of us a big fuck you the second we hit 30. FOR EXAMPLE: Gibber is back to drinking wine from a straw because she somehow managed to RE-herniate a disk, and she just had back surgery for the SECOND time this year. WTF? Although part of me doesn't believe she ACTUALLY had back surgery this go-round. I really think she just wanted to lay on the couch all day and drink wine out of a straw again ... and it's not socially acceptable to do that UNLESS you've had back surgery. And, well, it's Gibber, and she cares about being socially acceptable. And how old is she, you ask?

30.

So back to Rebecca. I pick her up, and she hops in the car, and the first thing she says is, "Soooo what are you doing for Opening Ceremonies Night?" 

Oh, this is going to be a fun night.

I reminded her that just because I live in the suburbs I have not turned into a suburban housewife who plans parties around different events on TV. My friends are lucky to have me because I'm the kind of person who values our different paths in life and doesn't judge anyone on their choices. 

Soon after this picture, Rebecca told the bartender her life story ~ including but not limited to why she decided to quit her job as an architect and stay home with the kid. Cheers.

Becky & Carol nights are ALWAYS a good time.

(Okay, and we're now picking up with "now" time - August 22nd)

Hmmmm what else has been going on in my uber-exciting life lately ...

Gena and Ben's Wedding!

My pseudo-little sister, Gena, got married August 4th in Orlando. She's the daughter of my mom's "Crib Friend" Alice. And by "Crib Friend," I mean they've been besties since they were in the crazy Alabama southern baptist church nursery together. So - to the 4 of you who read my blog - try to imagine that WE have kids who more or less grow up together and are best friends and one of THEM got married. That's who Gena is. She's also a Disney princess ... but only in her mind.

ANYWAY, Brett and I and the rents all hopped on a plane to head down to Orlando for the wedding. Yes, that's right. A wedding ... in August ... in Florida. Did I mention the reception (and by reception I mean bar and dance floor) was outside? Well it was. 

But the wedding was beautiful and Gena was beautiful and it was super fun to see the Treblettes. I couldn't help think that in 30 years that's going to be US watching OUR kids get married. But then I felt really old, so I stopped thinking that. Here's Gena and I:

She walked down the isle to Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid. She really believes she's a princess.

That picture's from the rehearsal dinner. Her sister Michelle gave a really awkward toast ... talked about Gena's ex-boyfriends ... spilled her wine ... and said SHIT in front of a whole bunch of baptists. She's from Alabama ... and people from Alabama just don't know any better. Gena and Michelle aren't really close. Brett told me I should have written a poem.

I probably should have.

Speaking of Brett, he was a trooper that weekend. He got to hang out with a bunch of 60 (ish) year old women. It's a good thing he's married to me, or else he wouldn't get to have such amazing experiences. Here's the fam at the church:

This is the ONLY time you will see the four of us in a church together ... unless it's Easter with Grandmother ... in which case - she's 92, so we do it for her sake. Because that's what awesome people do. Go to church when forced.

  

And here's Gena, her prince, and the Boos:

Yes. That's milk.

The newly wed Hayes then blatantly borrowed our 2 Year Anniversary trip to Couples Swept Away in Jamaica for their honeymoon. Then Hurricane Ernesto tried to drown them. They lived.

On another note, last Sunday Brett was playing fetch with Lulu in the house. Then he threw the ball into my favorite margarita glasses from Crate and Barrel that have since been discontinued. One fucking broke. Then Lulu ate a piece of glass. Then Brett yelled a whole lot and told me to call 911. 

Let me make a note of the fact that KITTY BOO has NEVER eaten glass or done anything that dumb. Cats are smarter than dogs and my husband. Brett swore he'd never play fetch in the house again. The fact that he had to SAY that just proves that cats are smarter than men. 

So I called PET-911 and they told me to give her bread and hydrogen peroxide so she would puke her little puppy guts out. She did, and she lived. 

Brett, on the other hand, is banned from the house until he replaces my margarita glass.

First the tooth then the glass. A guy I work with told me these were First World problems - you know, like as opposed to Third World problems.

Then I called him a racist.  

Tooth # Fucking 30

I've been a little busy lately. Fucking tooth number 30 (for those of you who aren't dentists - it's the bottom right, second to last back one) decided to get all externally resorpted AND DIE. That's right. I've had virtually NO tooth problems EVER except for this one.fucking.tooth. In January of 2009 I had to have a root canal ... because somewhere around November of 2007 I pulled my filling out with a sour patch kid at the movies. I have no idea what movie it was. But I'm sure it was stupid. Because any memory I have associated with this fucking tooth is stupid. Anyway, so I pulled a filling out 5 years ago ... it never hurt, so I didn't bother to get it re-filled until 2009 - when it started to hurt like a bitch. So I had the root canal. And nearly died. 

Because the dentist is evil. I mean WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND would go to school in order to attack someone's nerve with a drill?? And get PAID for it?? A sadist. That's who.

None of this really matters about what happened recently. I'm just making the point that it's  ONE.FUCKING.TOOTH. So this same tooth starts to hurt about a month or so ago, I go to the dentist, who sends me to the endodontist, who sends me to my oral surgeon, who tells me that I have an external resorption on tooth #30. AND it has to be pulled AND I'll need an implant. Fuck my life. And fuck the dentist. And fuck Mitt Romney too because I bet he wanted to be a dentist when he was a kid. Motherfucker.

The day I found out about all this I cried for 4 hours and went to the liquor store. Because people at the liquor store are NOT sadists. They went to happy school to make people happy AND GET PAID FOR IT. The world would be a much better place if everyone worked at a liquor store. World peace here we come.

And as I was bitching about my tooth for hours on end, one of the guys I used to work with sent me an email. It is as follows:

Dear Caroline,

I am very sorry to hear about your external resorption on tooth number 30. I tried to find you an appropriate get well card, but they only went up to tooth number 28.

Please get well soon.

Your friend,

Mike

Fuck you, Mike. Fuck you.

When I went in for my consult with the oral surgeon - who's Dr. Gordon Brady, by the way. We used to call him Gordo. He's Chris Brady's dad - a friend of mine from Marist. When we were in high school, Chris took our posse to his family's lake house on Lake Burton for the weekend. If God were a lake house, he would be THAT lake house. For those of you who've been there, you know that's not an exaggeration. So I'm sitting in the dentist chair (you know the one - the chair of PAIN), and Gordo's telling me he has to pull my tooth and stick a titanium rod in it's place. If he weren't the best fucking oral surgeon in Atlanta, I would have punched him in the face. So, he tells me what all has to be done, and meanwhile, I'm wondering just how much this shit is going to cost me. A lot. It's going to cost a lot.

So what ELSE would I do next?? Ask for a fucking discount, that's what. A Marist discount. Because I went to Marist. Oh, did I mention that Dr. Brady has NO FUCKING CLUE who I am? He took my wisdom teeth out summer after high school graduation, but I am ASSUMING he's taken a lot of peoples wisdom teeth out ... but that's just based on his God-Like Lake House. I don't know that for a fact. Anyway, I shamelessly asked for a Marist discount. He gave me a "This Girls is Fucking Loony Toons" look, and told the lady in the room to give me 5% off. Apparently being desperate and shameless has it's advantages.

As I'm paying for the consultation and setting up my next appointment of hell, the lady looks at me and says, "A marriage discount? Never heard of that one before."

Me: "MARRIAGE?? NO! MARIST! I WENT TO MARIST!"

(yes, I'm yelling at her ... we're very proud of the fact we went to Marist)

Lady: "Oh, I thought you said marriage ... I thought that was a bit odd."

Me: "I WENT TO MARIST! I WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL WITH HIS SON."

(still yelling)

Maybe THAT'S why Gordo gave me the "Who the Heck is the Cheapass Sitting in MY Chair of Pain Asking me for a Discount" look. He thought I wanted a discount because I got married. Congratu-fucking-lations, Caroline.

Awkward. Just awkward.

So I had my surgery a week ago. AND I WAS AWAKE FOR THE WHOLE THING. I even asked the girl stabbing me with my IV needle to give me more drugs. She laughed. Bitch, I wasn't making a joke. I was pretty out of it, but awake none the less. I heard the drill. I still have nightmares about that drill. 

And then I lived on pain killers, chicken soup, and Yoforia for a WEEK. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. 

And last night (my first night out IN A WEEK), the girls and I went to see Magic Mike. FUN, right?? Not exactly. We went to Studio Grill - where you can eat crap, drink booze, and watch Channing Tatum and Mathew McConaughey take their clothes off all in one place. Which would have been awesome if my fucking order had come. I ordered a fucking cheese pizza. Courtney's order came. Rebecca's order came. But Erin and I - who clearly ordered fanciest things on the menu (cheese pizza and BURGER BITES) - NEVER GOT OUR FOOD. After 30 minutes I reminded the dumb fuck waiter that I was still missing my pizza. 15 minutes later he comes back and says, OOPS. Must have gotten lost. (There is a reason people work at movie theaters. It's because they weren't smart enough to be dentists and weren't happy enough to be liquor store employees.) So finally, after an hour, my pizza comes. And I chewed on one side of my mouth and enjoyed every bite. And tipped $0 because I was appalled they didn't comp the meal. Fuck dentists and fuck Studio Grill.

And now this blog post has turned into a big long ramble of shit ... so I'm done.

PS: Fuck tooth #30.

Slutfest 2000 Reunion (minus the slut ... and add 12 years)

So last weekend we had a Girls Weekend in Nashville. And I wrote a poem about it. Because that is just what I do.

There once was a girl named Kelly

Who married a guy Brad

One day Brad got transferred

And Kelly was very sad :(

Good Bye, East Cobb they said

And hello, Tennessee

They found a town called La Vergne

A new home for Brad, Kelly, and Charlie!

Well a few months they went by

And Kelly missed her gals

So it was time to plan a Girls Trip

For Kelly and seven pals!

From Atlanta we were coming

From Lexington and Denver, too

And when Courtney offered to drive

It was off to Nashville with the crew!

Just four girls in a Lexus

And so our journey begins

With three bottles of champagne

For Erin, Caroline ... and Megan

Near death moment.

 The car ride was four hours

After Chick-fil-a from the start

We talked and laughed and sang

Except when Megan had to fart

We arrived in La Vergne a bit early

So we decided to buy some booze

Instead we found THIS delicacy

At the local Kangaroo :)

Beef Jerky/Cheese Log COMBO PACK. Can't find that shit in Atlanta.

Well Kelly came home with Charlie

(the cutest kid of life)

And welcomed us to La Vergne

And her brand new Tennessee life!

I SAID he was the cutest kid of life.

Now Brad was such a good husband

Because in the fridge we found

10 bottles of wine for us!

So long as we promised not to make a sound.

CLEARLY that was a promise

We made a bit too soon

Because once Cameran arrived

We turned Casa Blanchard into a saloon!

Bar Blanchard

After inhaling pizza and dip

And settling in for the night

We noticed the bathroom door -

Closed without the light ...

Now WHO could be in there?

We all wondered with a smile

Why it was Megan taking a poop

... and chatting with Brad for a while.

So seven bottles later

And happy to be reunited with Kell

We gossiped til after 1 AM

(Now did I tell you about the email?)

Before we knew it tomorrow came

And it was time to hit the city

So we snapped a couple pics

And headed off to get shitty!

Pre-Shitty Picture

 

Nash-Vegas we have arrived!

And Sarah showed up too!

Just in time for cheese dip and Margaritas

ALWAYS a must to-do.

(oops, uploaded the wrong picture)

THERE we go.

We checked into the penthouse

(and by penthouse I mean room)

It was time to go exploring

To Music City, I presume!

Now Nashville in itself

Is a whole new world to see

Boots and country and rednecks

We pointed and laughed with glee :)

When in Rome ...

The day went by so quickly

And it was nearly dinner time

So we headed back to Hampton

And found Mary had arrived!

Now all 8 of us were here

For our mini PD(X)

It's Marist reunion time!

Grab your cowboy boots and a dress!

That's us.

Off to Puckett's we went

By cab or perhaps on foot

And Amy met us at dinner

For yummy southern food to boot!

WALK .5 miles??? Hell.No.

Then we hit the bars

And found live music to dance

Until we found a DILF ...

And we dipped at our first chance

Yes, that shirt says DILF. As in Dad I'd Like to Fuck.

Now the NEXT bar was the best

A country bar called The Stage

We even got ID-ed!

You know, just in case we were underage

We be country.

Upon entering we discovered

There was a celebrity in our midst!

And a movie they were filming ...

Whatever. I'll have a lemon drop with a twist.

Well Billy Zane took the stage

And the music went round and round

And if by chance you're wondering

He's going to paint this whitewashed town.

So 12 renditions later

Of burning that goddamn town

We headed off to Tootsies

Far FAR away from that sound.

Um, us and shit-ton of outsiders.

For all of our friends (and fans)

We "checked in" to 17 places

From La Vernge to Downtown Nashville

Now everyone knows our faces :)

We hopped from bar to bar

Perhaps getting a wee bit drunker

Til we came across a quiet joint

That we could clearly take over

It was time to break out the line dancing

But not without a surprise ...

Because when Cameran went to the bar

She was met with a Smirnoff Ice!

"ON YOUR KNEES, BITCH"

Read the cocktail napkin

So what's a girl to do?

She chugged it like a champion!

What happens when you ice someone at 9AM ... Revenge.

Well our numbers started dwindling

As we neared 2 AM

Someone had a date with a pump

So we started to bring it in.

One last picture you ask?

Okay, well why not.

We all might be THIRTY

But we're still effing hot ;)

30!!! ... well, Cameran's still hanging on to 20 ... and Erin thinks she's 33 ... but you get the picture.

What a perfect end

To such a perfect night

The eight of us together

Still cause quite a sight

Friendships like ours don't end

They continue to get stronger

After nearly twenty years

We'll make it four times longer.

So once again I end

To friends that will last a lifetime -

Megan, Erin, Mary, Sarah

Cameran, Courtney, Kelly,

and Caroline

PS: Don't fuck with Megan.

Did I mention I love my friends?