ABOUT ME

About me: My husband Chuck, our six-year-old Junior, our three-year-old Everette and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

When people dry hump your purse innards and safeguard your gums, they're the real deal


My friend Sassy and I took Junior to the Westfarms Mall today.

While we were riding the escalator, I thought of my mother and how she spilled the contents of my purse onto the escalator that day back in April and then proceeded to dry hump my lipsticks, compacts, and wallet back into my purse like some kind of undiscovered oceanic crab capable of, well, dry humping things.

Aw, ma.

After I dropped Sassy off at home I took a long drive with Junior. He needed a good nap. While we were driving I thought of the days when I wasn’t working and how we’d tour the crevices of hickville Connecticut, him snuggled tight into his car seat, me blubbering into my shirtsleeve about my impending return to work.

(Do you see a theme here? Yah, there’s Babs, singing her little Memories song…)

Despite the multiple trips down memory lane, I was in fine spirits (thanks for asking!), even more so when I reached into my purse on the drive and discovered the sandwich Sassy’s husband had packed for us for our trip to the mall.

Not only did he make us sandwiches, he labeled them and included a stick of gum and a packet of floss.

Folks, these people are going to make the world’s best parents.

Remember when Chuck and I were robbed? This couple showed up minutes later with enchiladas and liquor. I don’t know if you’ve ever been robbed before but enchiladas are the perfect after-being-robbed food. You might think it’s pizza and, say, Coronas, but you’re wrong. Eat a cheesy enchilada and wash it down with a shot of tequila and bam, suddenly the task of scouring the local pawn shops doesn’t seem quite so daunting. I'd even venture to say you feel intrepid.

Anyone can do you a favor. But only your true friends know you’ll be driving along route 163 with lettuce stuck between your teeth and that that envelope in your glove compartment is not going to get the job done.

You need the real thing.

7 comments:

Jay said...

Thi scracks me up...and btw, I only pee standing up due to testosterone poisoning. Dont mock me, pity me.

Luanne said...

Enchiladas...love it! Love your blog!

Lumiere said...

Frogs in my throat...It's those kind gestures that make life bearable, making it easier to carry on when things seem too much. Here's to great friendship! Sounds like you (and they) are fortunate to have found one another...

Mary Anna said...

Aye yi yi - that's brutal! Glad everyone's ok - and that there was floss!

Dto3 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Dto3 said...

Enchiladas, the perfect after-rob food, eh? Apparently, I needed better friends. I've only been robbed once (at gun point, Ay
Chihuahua!) but didn't have a wallet afterward, or friends to buy me enchiladas. I'll remember next time to keep a few bucks in my shoe, so I can hit Taco Cabana afterward.

harrietv said...

Hickville, Connecticut: You remind me of my daughter (10-15 years ago) deciding to drive up to UConn to see my son. She took a wrong turn and found herself in Bozrah, seeing mostly sheep.

"Bozrah," she said, "where men are strong and sheep are scared."