Q: How do you know if a woman is ticklish?
A: You give her a testicle.
A homeless/crazy woman told my friend this joke after she asked him directions to Chase bank. Do you think she was hitting on him? Did she really need to know how to get to the bank? I was mulling this over when I saw the ticket on my windshield.
FUCKING TICKET! I said, not to myself (I was on the phone with Emily discussing taco night) and she was like, “Oh. Photo radar. Bummer.” and I was all, “I did NOT get a moving violation! Do you think I’m driving right now? It’s a parking ticket!” Sheesh, I thought she knew me better than that. I never talk on the phone while driving. Except when I do.
I guess it was worth it, the ticket I mean. I just left The Kitchen where I had lunch with an old friend. I’ve known him so long that we’re kind of like an ancient married couple. For instance, I know he doesn’t like it when his food touches. He likes has salmon extra well done, ditto with his pizza (Margarita, light on the cheese) and his scrambled eggs extra dry. In short, he likes his food ruined.
He also likes to play musical chairs at restaurants until he gets his favorite table (the one in the corner, next to the bar). On his fifth maneuver I felt the need to clarify to our
increasingly annoyed really nice waiter that I was deliriously happy with our table, it’s my dining companion that felt the need to be a colossal pain-in-the-ass. I’m only here because he’s buying me lunch … and because he laughs at my jokes.
In his defense, he is an excellent tipper, I just wish he could tip before they bring us our food, just to be sure. I’ve read Fight Club.
(To my friend, if you are reading this, I did not spit on you, although you probably deserved it. I flicked my spoon and some affogato went flying off. I’m not a savage.)
Okay, time to cut the crap. 103 items, BOOYAH!
Crappity pillows I’ve retired from my rental. I used them in my outdoor bathtub photo shoot so they are kind of dirty in addition to be kind of crumbly. TRASH.
Bags of bags! My fave! And insoles. I feel the need to save them even though I immediately remove factory insoles out of all my athletic shoes because I use orthodic insoles for my plantar fasciitis. I don’t know why I save them. I always wear my shoes until they are dead. TRASH!
We have a nice built-in cabinet in the pole room that should have beautiful things in it, rather it has glassware and plates I never use. My mom is right, I need to get rid of them and put something nice in there instead.
19 5-ounce soda fountain glasses. Every time I try to get rid of them Zeb says, “But they are the perfect size for tiny milkshakes.” He’s right, she said never. The milkshake maker is languishing above my cabinets because it gives me an electric shock if I use it barefoot AND we have bigger milkshake glasses which are superior because really, is 5 ounces of milkshake ever enough? No. Selling them. You want them? Make me an offer.
An inch an ounce apparently.
Back in the day I felt that I needed to have banquet plates. In my previous life I was a Stepford wife, now I’m more like Peg Bundy. Lucky Zeb. I have not used these in at least 10 years if not more 1) because I have more plates than that and 2) I’m over throwing big dinner parties where I am the cook, waiter, busboy and dish dog . I’m tired. 19 11-inch Homer Laughlin banquet plates. $2 each.
47 Centura teacup saucers. Without teacups. Zeb got these because Harmy loves Centura so every time he sees any Centura, he buys them. But Harmy doesn’t want them because 47 saucers? WHY?!?!?! You have to tell him when to STOP or he will keep buying what you asked for FOREVER. Do you want them?
An (almost) 12 -inch pasta bowl, they match the 6 bowls I am getting rid of. I’ll throw it in.
10 8-inch soup dishes. And other dishes. God. Put me out of my misery. FREE.
What the hell is wrong with me? What a shocker that one of the reasons I was so unhappy in my previous marriage was that I felt like the kitchen staff. How could anyone have gotten that impression, what with all this commercial restaurant stuff everywhere? Hell, they probably thought I loved it in there. I did this to myself. Owning it.
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