We had to have this conversation several times before this stuff was actually thrown out, and even then it was only because I got pretty tipsy and picked all the non-Jill stuff out and threw it in the trash. It was fun, let me tell you. I flicked each and every hair pin into that trash bin (flick, flick, flick!) with pure glee and now I know that everything in there belongs to me, me, me! It is a lovely feeling.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Apparently there are a lot of rules about this "free pass" business.Jack: So later tonight if [Duffy, Kelis, etc] is eyeing me during her set and she gives me the come hither look and then her bodyguard comes and says she wants me to come back stage and then I get back there and she comes on to me, can I make out with her and you won't get angry?Me: Why would that happen? Isn't she married?Jack: But what if it does happen? Can I have a free pass?Me: Well, I don't think it's going to happen.Jack: Are you saying that [Duffy, Kelis, etc] won't find me attractive? Is that what you're saying?Me: No, of course she would, but I just think it's pretty unlikely that she's going to get her bodyguard to fetch you so that she can have a night of passion with you.Jack: Well if you think it's so unlikely you should just say yes.Me: But what if it does happen? I mean, if you're backstage making out with [Duffy, Kelis, etc] do I have permission to get a ride home from someone else at the concert? Like a hot dude?Jack: You only get free passes with famous people.
"If she's into animals, sure."
What I meant by that is that any woman who's into protecting animals is okay by me....but I guess that didn't come across in my text, because this is what I got back: "Wait, did you just call me an animal?"
Monday, September 22, 2008
Well, that set him off. He went on and on about how violent I am, and how it hurt soooo bad, and he thinks I chipped one of his teeth.
"You could be arrested for that! That was domestic abuse!"
"Oh, stop!" I demanded, through my laughter.
"You are so dramatic."
I played a joke on her. So then she tried to play it back on me immediately. How original, right?
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
2:32 pm – I Google “hot yoga” and browse through the search results. I conclude that Jill is either (a) inviting me to a Bikram yoga class where the room is heated to 105 degrees with 40% humidity or (b) really kinky.
Receptionist: What level are you: beginner, intermediate, or advanced?
Me: Is there a category below beginner?
Receptionist: Do you at least know how to do downward dog?
Me: I’m sorry, what’d you call me?
6:34 pm – I finish off my bottle of Ice Mountain water. I had hoped that my water supply would last me an hour. Turns out I came up short by fifty-six minutes. Oops.
Friday, September 12, 2008
What can I say, he is a passionate man, and by golly, if we don't get a gold in 2012, I don't know who will.*
* Perhaps someone with actual talent?
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
So Jack and I are in the elevator in his building the other day, just having finished taking Spot, my dog, out for a walk. I'm holding Spot, per condominium rules, when the elevator stops and 3 more people stroll in. As the door closes, Spot lets out one of his stinky, stanky, LOUD farts: Pffffffffft!
Me: (laughing uncontrollably as quietly as possible)
Jack: Really, you couldn't hold it? (not as quietly as possible)
Me: That wasn't me! It was Spot.
Me: See?! That was him!
Jack: Stop blaming the dog - it was totally you. You could apologize, you know.
Meanwhile, our elevator friends are visibly uncomfortable, but don't really acknowledge what has just happened. I'm still laughing uncontrollably of course, because apparently I am a 10 year old boy and farts are really, really funny to me--especially because IT WASN'T MINE. I maintain that fact no matter what Jack has to say about it!
So Jill and I are in the elevator in my building the other day, just having finished taking Spot, Jill’s dog, out for a walk. Jill rarely holds Spot (even though condominium “rules” require her to do so), but on this particular occasion she was (a) holding Spot, and (b) holding him on her hip. In hindsight, the hip is the perfect place to hold an animal if one is ever interested in…oh, I don’t know…concealing a boisterous fart.
There were three of my neighbors on the elevator as well. They were very “serious looking” (e.g., the guy closest to Jill was wearing an Armani suit and had a copy of The Economist on top of his briefcase; in other words he didn’t really look like a card-carrying member of The Guys Who Think Elevator Farts are Hilarious” club).
As the door closes, Jill farts. It’s clearly Jill and not Spot, since human farts and dog farts sound significantly different. Dog farts tend to be squeaky and high-pitched; this one had some deep bass. My first inclination is to ask Jill if she has a subwoofer stuffed down the back of her jeans.
Jill: (laughing uncontrollably because she thinks it’s hilarious to fart in an elevator full of strangers)
Me: Really, you couldn’t hold it? (trying to let my neighbors know that I was civilized like them and did NOT think it was hilarious to fart in an elevator full of strangers)
Jill: That wasn’t me! It was Spot.
Spot: (looking annoyed and insulted..then deciding he should fart like his Mom just did) Pfffft! (note: Spot’s fart sounded completely different than Jill’s fart)
Me: (genuinely embarrassed) Can both of you try to hold it for a few more floors?
Meanwhile, our elevator friends are visibly uncomfortable, as am I. Jill is still laughing uncontrollably of course, because apparently she is a 10 year old boy and farts are really, really funny to her. I look at her giggling like a school boy and wonder if it’s time for me to give online dating a chance.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
I’ve met Jill’s parents. But she hasn’t met mine. And there’s a reason for that. Actually there are two reasons: my dad and Jill.
You see my dad and Jill both suffer from spontaneous verbal diarrhea (SVD). At any given time, they have both been guilty of blurting out random comments uncontrollably.
In Jill’s defense, my dad’s case of SVD is probably more severe, if only because he’s been afflicted longer. To illustrate my point, here’s a near-verbatim excerpt from a conversation that took place between my parents (AROUND OUR DINNER TABLE) the last time I brought a girl over to meet them.
My mom: “Did you hear on the news today that they arrested a man for a murder he committed three years ago? Apparently they found the body…”
My dad (interrupting my mom): “See, that’s what I don’t get. Why do these guys have such a hard time getting rid of the body? I mean, come on! If I ever killed anyone, I can assure you that nobody would find the body. Would it be that hard to chop a body up into little parts and put it down the garbage disposal? Or how hard would it be to burn a body? Throw it into an incinerator. Collect the teeth and stuff that didn’t burn and then throw that stuff into the garbage disposal. I mean this isn’t rocket science, people! I just don’t get it!”
Again, this was the FIRST time this girl met my dad, who in reality is one of the sweetest men on the planet and winces when he has to kill a wasp with a rolled-up newspaper. Nonetheless, my girl’s eyes were the size of the hubcaps on my ’87 Accord when she heard him spouting off like Ted Bundy.
And yet if it was only my dad that I was worried about, I would have facilitated this introduction already. But Jill also suffers from SVD.
For example, this past weekend Jill and I were at an OUTDOOR concert where people were smoking. Apparently Jill doesn’t appreciate smelling secondhand smoke, as she casually informed me:
“If this girl doesn’t watch where her smoke is going, I'm going to stab her in the neck.”
It’s important to note that Jill said this loudly enough that pretty much everyone around us heard her. Now was really going to pull out a shank and slice someone? Of course not. I knew it was the SVD, but what if the others didn’t? I quickly made a point of nervously smiling at everyone nearby in an attempt to restore the peace.
Sigh…I’m sweating just thinking about the possibility of my dad and Jill in the same room. Does anybody have any advice as to how I can make this happen without either party saying something I’ll regret?