OY GIRL

“You are most like - Adriana Lima.”

“Intriguing and Sultry.”

What Victoria’s Secret Angel Are You?”

It went like this:

Husband is filling out some papers, looks up - he needs some info from me –

“What’s your birthday?”

Ahem.

“We’ve been together 22 years you still don’t know when my birthday is?”

Damn.

He says “Funny how the gifts show up.”

“So, you know it, what are you only asking to annoy me?”

“I don’t remember the year.”

“What if I’m in the hospital out cold and they ask you for my birth date, what good will you be?”

He cracks up.

There’s this great new CD out - “On My Way Here” - ready to be sung live in concert.

Except there is no word of one.

There is rumor of an impending Claby [clay/baby].

Except there is no word.

Clay withdrawal is no damn fun.

So, I guess I need to host a little concert right here.

My kiss is pink.

“For you, kissing is pure happiness… simple as that. You definitely get a little blissed out from kissing, even if you’re a bit shy about it.  You won’t kiss just anyone. Your kisses are special!

Young at heart, you still get very excited the first time you kiss someone.

Kissing Type: Generous

People See Your Kisses as: Sweet

 You Kiss Best With: A Black Kisser

Stay away from: An Orange Kisser”

[I have no idea who black and orange may be?]

What color is your kiss?

[image from Glamour Vanity]

Yesterday started out with the cleaning.

The kitchen. Bathrooms.

The couple arrived at 3.

The couple I barely knew, friends of husband, that came to go birding in the woods out back.

First, there was the half-hour analysis of the big crystalized cracked rock on the screen porch - the one I bought in Manhattan, the one I bought just because it was pretty, I have no clue what kind of rock it is and really do not care all that much.

Another half-hour discussing the basil plants on the back deck.

The three of them pack off to the woods. [You didn't think I'd be joining them did you?]

I mumble to myself out loud ”it takes them a half hour to leave the deck what are they gonna do with the whole woods?”

The house clean and empty and all mine, I blast the new Clay CD over the new 5 foot high mother-speakers, pour myself a Sambucca, kick back.

I have nothing in common with these perfectly nice people. [OK, very late I found out she is a writer, that is something.]

They left after midnight.

Wanna play dolls?

Somehow last night at a BBQ after several bottles of wine and several more bottles of beer had been consumed by all and a few of us stood on the backyard deck, the convo turned to the question -

“What are the 7 words you cannot say on TV?” - per the recently late George Carlin’s routine in the 70’s.

Such began the guessing game.

Gotta be F–K.

C–T!

You get the picture. We threw them all out there, argued over each one.  

Until someone went inside and googled.

Such is my Saturday night.

Last Sunday my mother lured me out for one last fix of the Sigrid Olsen going-out-of-business sale - now 70% off plus an additional 25% off at the register. Not too tough a sell.

We took husband along, on the way out to dinner.

I of course ended up at the register with $400 worth of clothes for less than $100.

This while I glance over at husband who is off to the side talking to the sales girl.

Buying the mannequin.

Meet Lady M, in residence in the dressing room, attired in my way-old-long-ago snakeskin spandex dress.

Husband tells me “those were the days.” Smack.

Morning on the screen porch, I am fretting to husband about the script.

How I need to write today but not sure where I am going, exactly.

Husband asks - do you know the end?

“Yeah, I know act 3.”

He asks - how many pages till you get there?

“Around 14.”

And then he says -

” Oh.  Just blow through the next 14.”

Funny guy.

The scene at 7 pm -