On the judge’s score card of life, unofficially of course, I am winning.
It occurred to a friend and I yesterday that one of the signs of being a real person is if you can blend in at Starbucks. Apparently I can blend, who knew?
I don’t get out that much with regular people. I spend time with the guy and the girl but that social thing that so many others do I refrain. I did get to go out yesterday though and here are some of the things that I learned:
I can’t put my arms down!
There are still men out here swollen like whoa! The men out there swollen like whoa! want you to look at them, and admire them. You kind of can’t though, because they are swollen like whoa! and your mind goes to sex. You imagine ED from excessive steroid use and the inability to finger you properly because… you can’t put your arms down. No bueno.
No matter what – they will come to you.
You can sit in an open courtyard, with dozens of empty tables, and without exception the only other people interested in sitting down will sit right next to you. Not only will they sit right next to you, they will have the most annoying and irrelevant conversations known to humanity in an octave 3 decibels higher than you desire. You will endure this because you were there first and you don’t think you should have to move. As a result of that decision you will hear the most ratchet of conversations and be forever unable to forget because – Starbucks.
Elastic Bottom Sweatpants for the win!!!!
So my coffee date yesterday has one pet peeve about me. I wear sweatsuits with elastic at the bottom. She hates that. Because she hates it, and because I am a sadist, I tease her fairly often that I will wear one of those sweatsuits when I am with her. It is quite funny. Until…. in June… when it is already 80 degrees at 10am and you are sitting in the sun a woman walks up to you with …. elastic bottom sweatpants. Yes that happened. Not only did it happen, but for some reason she appeared to be wearing elastic bottom sweatpants that belonged to her child. They were capri sweats. Apparently all the rage in fashion. She seemed to be missing the stilettos that I’ve seen other women wear with elastic bottom sweats lately.. but then again I am not about that fashion life.
So despite being expressly forbidden by my friend to wear my own elastic bottoms, they made an appearance anyhow. Praise Mandisa.
Laughter is the best medicine
It is valuable to have alone time with other adults and laugh about things that you cannot at home. It also helps if you are with a person who likes ass just as much as you and can point out the things you’ve missed while living hermit life.
When you go out with your son’s girlfriend there are consequences.
Clyde has a girlfriend. In his head at least. My coffee date yesterday happens to be his girlfriend. It matters not that she has a husband, Clyde is not concerned. She is his. CLAIMED. The consequences of going out with your son’s girlfriend is that he will feel some kind of way. For Clyde feeling some kind of way means when the nurse sits on the front step for a little air as mommy is on the way home you lock her out of the house. When my date and I returned home there was Janet. Sitting in the sun and sweating. There was Clyde, sitting in the window, watching Janet sitting in the sun and sweating. I didn’t want to chuckle, but then again… laughter is the best medicine.
My date laughed until tears fell from her eyes.
It was a good day.