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