Weekend Girl Talk, Part 6: Hot like Fi-yah edition

Last week, my friend D. & I were on the phone when somebody rang her doorbell. She asked if she could call me right back, but I was heading out and told her we'd just finish our chatting sometime this weekend. Cut to earlier this afternoon when the phone rang and her name flashing on my caller I.D.

The only other things you should know before reading any further is that for the purpose of this post, I'm referring to her husband by his first initial, which is P.; that they once had a kitchen fire so bad the local firefighters showed up; and that they live in a really small town*.

D.: "Hi! Sorry about our conversation getting cut off so quickly last time, but there was a fireman at my door, and there wasn't even a fire!"

Me: "There was one AT YOUR DOOR for no good reason? I wish they came straight to my door! I need to move to a small town."

D.: "He was about 90 years old."

Me: "Interesting. I've never thought of firemen's hotness having an expiration date. Maybe that's because I've never seen one out of my target demographic, if you know what I'm sayin'. What was he doing there, anyway?"

D.: "Selling tickets!"

Me: "To what, his antique GUN SHOW?"

D.: "HA! No, it was for their fundraiser. I ended up just giving him $10, but after he left P. came downstairs & he said, 'Ten dollars isn't enough! Remember, we had a house fire once!' But, I was just trying to think fast, so I grabbed a $10 bill."

Me: "Well, maybe that'll teach them to start sending the young, smokin' hot ones out for fundraising. I'm surprised that isn't just a given. In fact, if they sent the hot ones out wearing tearaway pants & carrying a boom box with "Leave Your Hat On" cued up they'd get more money than they could handle. Of course, it would be all dollar bills."

D.: "Yeah! If they did that, I would've yelled up to P. that he needed to stay upstairs no matter what he heard going on down here."

Me: "P. would later wonder where all the money in the savings account had gone, and you could forever sleep soundly knowing it had all been for a good cause."

D., {sighing}: "I need to bring this idea up at the next town meeting."

Me: "You're welcome."

*It's so small that once, when D. had surgery, I called the local florist in her town to get flowers delivered. When the florist answered, I mentioned that my friend D... (used her entire first name-- but FIRST name only) was healing at home after surgery & I wanted to get her a cheerful arrangement, then answered the other questions the florist had, and went on to give my payment information. As we were getting ready to hang up, I realized something important had been left out of the information exchange and said, "Wait, don't you need her last name and address?". The florist said, "Oh, don't worry. I know D. and I know where they live!"


Want more Weekend Girl Talk? Click HERE!


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Weekend Girl Talk, Part 5: Snail Mail Edition

Ahhh, Steel Magnolias. One of the most quotable chick flicks in film history. One of my oldest friends (who may or may not out herself in the comments) and I have been know to use Olympia Dukakis' classic line, "I love you more than my luggage" when closing e-mails or at the end of phone calls. So, when I got this card in the mail from her, I knew exactly what she was thinking when she saw it in the store.

When we travel, our dogs handle the suitcases. Wait a minute, I don't have a dog and that's not even our luggage!


The sentiment Hallmark thought to print on the inside was a nice thought, and one I agree with completely. However, it was very much overshadowed and outdone by what she wrote beneath it. Especially the part I highlighted:


Unfortunately, this is a deal-breaking point for both of us since we love men with the passion of 10,000 Banderases (ohh, that's a thought to carry me through the day), but if only it was that easy...


Want more Weekend Girl Talk? Here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 and PART 4.

Weekend Girl Talk, Part 4: Even our years researching Chaos Theory* couldn't prepare us for this depth of scientific analysis

The fact that I had a 2:30 a.m. debate on the lyrics to a certain song currently being played ad nauseum on every radio station and cable music channel should tell you what kind of weekend** I had.

Me: The lyrics to that song are NOT "Let me rub my face all around your waist". I'm pretty sure she says something about wrapping her thighs around his waist... though I will admit that after hearing it a million times, it DOES start to sound like she wants to rub her face in that general area. From now on I will be singing it your way, especially when the car windows are open at crowded intersections.

JC: Nice! There's nothing I hear in the lyrics about her wrapping her thighs around anything, though. It's definitely all about her FACE and where she plans on rubbing it.

Me: Do you actually think that woman rubs her face in or around anybody's lower region? She probably has someone on her payroll take care of those specific duties on her behalf; she will not mess up her hair & makeup for that. Have you forgotten that she's an original certified VH-1 Diva, circa '88?


JC: Really listen to it though! {cranking the volume and proceeding to break down the song for me like our lives depend on it} See, she wants someone to touch her body so she can then rub her face all up on his waist, which as far as I'm concerned is the natural progression of things, anyway. You know I'm right about this.

Me: This woman hits nearly inaudible high notes, which seem to be directly related to pressing a magic button inside of her left ear***, for a living. She probably spends millions preserving her throat with industrial humidifiers in hermeticially sealed rooms. The only thing she's rubbing her face all up on are butterflies made out of sparkly diamonds.

*Whoever figures out the connection to the singer in question and chaos theory in the comments is the gold-star reader of the day.

**My favorite kind, of course. I mean, hello? There was a 2:30 a.m. debate on song lyrics!

***You have to click on that hotlink and witness the hard work someone put into cutting together clips of the aforementioned high notes. It's truly a masterpiece. Warning: If your computer speakers are anywhere near a window, you better make sure it's made of shatter-proof glass.


Want more Weekend Girl Talk? Here's PART 1, PART 2 and PART 3.

Weekend Girl Talk, Part 3: Besides discussing Kepler's Laws of Planetary Motion, there was this

Just a short progress report before getting to the good stuff: I only felt mildly hung over on Saturday morning, but that's probably because I didn't bother to follow my own rule of downing a glass of water before bed. Why? Because I wasn't thirsty, naturally. Anyway, here are a few of the gems that I'm at liberty to share with you. Everything else was either off the record (self-imposed and otherwise) or off the charts (hard to believe, I know).

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Because it's important to make a difference in the world:

"I almost cougared a 20-something law student last weekend."

"Cougared?! Making that an action word instead of merely an adjective could be one of the best things you've ever come up with."

"I'm determined to make that word a verb... you know, let it stand as my legacy."

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Sometimes even old friends need to define things for each other:

"B. made me do a couple of Jägerbombs with him, which is what's to blame for all of that inappropriate touching that went on while we were still at the bar."

"Sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly. What kind of touching?"

"Inappropriate. Because we were in public; at the bar."

"Again I ask you, what is this inappropriate of which you speak?"

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After being underwhelmed with the taste of our first drinks of the evening, which were called "Sex Before Sunrise":

"I'm less than impressed with this Sex Before Sunrise. It looks good, but leaves something to be desired in the taste department."

"I totally agree. I bet it has something to do with the fact that neither of us are morning people."

"Yes! I bet if they called them "Sex After Sundown" we would have liked them a WHOLE lot more."

"Mmm hmmm... Oh yeah, you got that right."

"Are we still talking about these drinks?"

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After seeing the Dayton, Ohio-based Eric Jerardi Band (which should be renamed "Eric Jerardi-the-blues-guitar-god-with-a-gravely-voice-featuring-the-bassist-with-smooth-moves-in-a-backwards-hat-Band) at The House of Blues:

"I had no idea Dayton, Ohio was capable of so much hot, sexified funk."

"Dayton's actually a really progressive city. We'll have to go when you come to visit, it's only a couple of hours from my place."

"Definitely! In the meantime, I'm gonna have to bone up on the Ohio music scene!"

"You said 'bone'!"

Skip ahead to 2:30 (or -6:00, depending on which way the little clock is running) to see The Eric Jerardi Band do some serious justice to Tom Wait's "Make it Rain"; and turn it up!

Want more Weekend Girl Talk? Here's PART 1 and PART 2.

Weekend Girl Talk, Part 2: Well look at you, sufferaging through bad dates since 1920

Our friend BG was relaying information on a recent Date-Gone-Bad just the way we like: slow and specific. We're practically a forensics team, digging through the wreckage to piece together how it all went downhill. Far be it for us to interrupt the flow of important details, but sometimes we need clarification. This usually ends in a new catchphrase that will be stuck in our private joke repertoire for decades. After this we all discussed quantum mechanics, I swear.

BG: "... and it was right after that when I made sure to tell him, 'Hey, these pants aren't coming off tonight.', and then he said, 'Well, look at you, calling the shots!'... and he was serious!"

Me: "Wait, he actually said, 'Well, look at you, calling the shots'? Really? Didn't he get the memo that we are allowed to have an opinion on these matters? He should have just said, 'Well, look at you, deciding who puts his hands in your pants!'

BG: "Look at you, with a mind of your own!"

Me: "Look at you, not bending to my every whim!"

BG: "Look at you, with the right to vote!"

Weekend Girl Talk, Part 1: Right before we compared notes on the effects of global warming

My friend 'Doc' and I have serious discussions on grown up topics all of the time. This was not one of them.

Doc: "I've come to a sad realization. The window of opportunity for me & Clooney to be together has officially closed."

Me: "What do you mean? He's still single."

Doc: "Well, technically; but he has a girlfriend."

Me: "The chick whose wimpy foot broke during that motorcycle accident? C'mon, I bet your bones are freakishly unbreakable! You and your super-skeleton would have come through it with little more than a bit of road rash, and because you're a doctor you would have started examining everyone on the scene, where you'd likely write your man George prescriptions for "Kisses to Make it All Better" and "Hands-on-Healing".

Doc: "Her bones might be fragile but she ate a scorpion on TV and I could never, ever do that. (shaking head in disbelief, voice octave slightly rising) A live scorpion, in her mouth, on TV!"

Me: "Do you think he was impressed by that, really?"

Doc: "She. Ate. A. Scorpion. On. TV."

Me: "I think Clooney would be far more interested to find out what you'll put in your mouth at home.

Doc: "Touché."