My friend Tara just began seeing a therapist, I don't think she'd mind me telling you because you don't know her. When she came back from her first appointment I asked her how it went and she told me the following:

Tara: Well, she's a lot older than I expected her to be...

Me: I guess that could be good, she's experienced and wise or whatever...

Tara: No, you don't get it. She started to fall asleep while I was talking!

Me: (gasping laughter that I can't control) What did you do?

Tara: I yelled loudly, "Are you OK?"

Me: That worked right?

Tara: For a little. She apologized and blamed it on new medication.

Me: Right....the old medication trick, and well she could've just blamed it on the fact that she was old! That's what she should've done.

Tara: Well...that made her explain to me that she needed to eat. So she whipped out crackers and Easy Cheese while I continued talking about my problems.

Me: What?!? What's wrong with this old bag?

Tara: I don't know, but she did offer me a cracker while she was spraying on her cheese!

Me: Were you just dying of laughter? Did you take a cracker and cheese? I would've I love Easy Cheese!

Tara: No I didn't take a cracker! I just wanted to get out of there. I mean, here I am spilling intimate details of my life and the lady is just dining and napping on my dime!

Me: Are you going to go back? I kinda think you have to go back to see what she's going to do next. Maybe she'll iron? Play Solitaire? Look at porn on the Internet?

Tara: I don't know. I want to go back but I don't know if I'll leave her living if she whips out the hor d'oerves again.

Me: Just think, I'm constantly eating when you tell me your problems...and I used to be drunk most of the time too, just pretend you're talking to a really old, hungry drunk version of me.

Tara: I can do that.

The evening starts off casually enough, we're over at John's sister's house having dinner on the deck. They all have a few drinks in them and the conversation in on drugs. I start telling them about how the kids are now putting pills up their asses to heighten the drugs' effects...and that the kids even told me about it. Everyone is kind of dubious, but then John reminds them about how that one guy who couldn't drink anymore was giving himself Sherry enemas so that he could still get drunk. This is the conversation that followed.

Jason: Your sister gives me enemas all the time!

Everyone ignores this...and tries to move the topic to something "safer" than Jason's enema...but someone can't let it go.

Picnic goer: Well I'd to be careful because I have a hemorrhoid.
John (always eager to share when tipsy): I have a hemorrhoid!
John's Brother: You can get them from sitting on cold concrete..."
John: I had to take Preparation H in a suppository.
John'sBrother's GF: I had to use an anal suppository.
Me: Why?
John's Brother's GF: Because I have anal um...anal... canyons?
John Brother: What?!?
Me: I think you mean anal fissures.
John's Brother's GF: Yeah...that's right!
John's Brother: What?!?
John: I think you get them from...umm...
John's Brother: How come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"
John's Brother's GF: Because I don't just tell everybody!
All of us: laugh hysterically


Enter John's sister

John to his sister: "You gave Jason an enema?!?"

I went out to lunch today with my dear friend Cr who is pregnant and due in March (right around both of our birthdays!!). While we were happily munching on our food she filled me in on all the people who are pregnant...all I can say is that there is going to be a serious population explosion in Pennsylvania...I now have seven friends who are all pregnant and due in either March or April. Seven?!? That just seems a little unreal...

Cr and I have very different schedules and so we don't get to see each other as often as we used to. These are a few of the things that she said to me that had me giggling:

Cr:"I always wanted big boobs, but now I don't know why!?! Seriously, do your boobs get stuck under your armpit when you try to make a turn in the car?"
Me: "Umm, not so much."
Cr: "Maybe it's just 'cuz I'm not used to having boobs..."
Me: "Maybe?"

Cr:"I was thinking about if it's a boy, I'd name him Tristan...but then I realized that I can't name a baby after Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall. Seriously...I lusted after that man. I can't name my kid that!"
Me: " Yeah that doesn't sound like a good idea, unless you want to be on Maury in about 18 years."

"I wanted to name my baby Emily Rose if it's a girl."
Me: "What about that Emily Rose movie?"
Cr: " What movie's that?"
Me: "Oh...I don't know, the one where Emily Rose is possessed by the Devil."
Cr: "Huh?"
Me: "I never saw it but there's a movie called the Exorcism of Emily Rose."
Cr: "Geez..."
[pause]
Cr: " I don't care, I love the name Emily."

Cr: "They didn't bring two spoons for this brownie thing..." [waving her arm over her beloved brownie dessert]
Me: "That's ok, I didn't order it...you did. I don't really want any of it."
Cr: "Good, I didn't want to fight you for this brownie."
[after that, I kept my fingers away from the table so that they could not be gnawed upon]

What is more fun than priming the back bedroom on Cinqo de Mayo? Laying on the guest bed drinking wine while John does it!

Favorite quote after bottle number one? Um, M? I think you need to eat your other half of your hoagie...you know, to soak it up?

Did the hoagie work? No. There was no real bringing me back after that. However, I was entertainment for others that night.

What's less fun than getting drunk in your spare bedroom? Going to baby showers slightly hungover. It was a happy occasion where John's sister looked gorgeously pregnant (she's one of those people that can pull this off...I fear, that I will pull off the house-like pregnant woman look). However, one conversation sticks in my mind as the worst train wreck of conversations I've ever experienced. Here, let's see what you think:

John's Aunt (from now on known as JA): Melina, you look like you've lost weight since the wedding.

Me: Um, maybe. **starting to blush** (no, I haven't lost weight)

JA: It's always a shame when a bride is a little heavy at her wedding because those pictures stick with you for a lifetime and you'll always have to see them.

Me: Uh, yeah...I guess...I don't know, I don't care that much, I was happy so I ate a little more than I would've. **trying hard to keep my game face on when I wanted to crawl under the table and rock a little**

John: (trying to help a little, patted his belly) We both did!

JA: John you looked good in the pictures.

**subcontext** apparently, I did not! There was much more to this conversation, including when she told me I wasn't as big as "a poor 300 lb girl that she photographed" (! what?!? I'm not even FAT!!! was I a little chubbier than I would've like to be at my wedding, sure...but fat? NO), but the sad part of the whole thing was, she was trying to give me a compliment. It just went horribly wrong.

After that, any time that John asked me if I wanted anything to eat, I declined politely.

Melina: John, do I look ok?

John: You look prettier tonight than I've ever seen you. Wow, your boobs are getting big!

Melina: Shit! Gross...it's just because the rest of me is getting bigger too.

John: You know what your problem is?

Melina: I'm fat?

John: No you can't see yourself from behind. *makes a face like Kramer from Seinfeld and mimes an hour glass shape*

Melina: (looks at bruises around waist) Thanks for man handling me by the way!

John: (places hand in the handprint at my waist as if to check to see if he was the culprit, and looking like he wanted to manhandle me a little more, he looks at me and states) Sheesh!

Fast forward to sitting at the bar waiting for the other two couples at dinner. Melina bores John's pants off by explaining how getting perfectly groomed eyebrows makes you look and feel prettier. She inititates this conversation by grabbing his hand and making him feel her upper lip and saying, "Look Ma, no 'stache!" (I'm classy, yo)

John: So when I said you looked prettier than I ever saw you before...

Melina: MmmHmm, it's the eyebrows!

John: And you do this once a month?

Melina: Thereabouts...whenever I need it.

John: And it's expensive?

Melina: Well...the place I go to yes, but it really is an art.

John: Oh I'm going to be paying for that comment aren't I?

Melina: Oh hells yeah you are...

Chelle was stuck talking to this guy who was so incredibly drunk it was actually sad watching him do shots because of the amount of alcohol that was so needlessly wasted. Chelle made her escape from the bar and I thought that would of rid us of Drunk Man Who Likes To Talk About Fords To Girl Who Could Give A Fuck Less And Drives A Goddamn Neon (at least that would be his Indian name...ahem, his Native American name). So on the jukebox comes "Wake Me Up When September Ends" or whatever the title is. This is the conversation that continued:

Super Drunk Guy (SDG): Damn I hate this song! I can't believe that Green Day is singing about politics now. Punk bands should not sing about politics...so what they hate Bush, why can't they just sing the regular songs?

Me (incredulous): First of all, I really wouldn't say that Green Day is all that punk...maybe once, but no longer. And secondly? Punk bands typically talk about politics in one form or another because they are the alienated and the disenfranchised...(trails off and bites her lip trying to dumb down disenfranchised for the man since his face screwed up like a shar pei)

SDG: No, punk music isn't political. It's just not. Real music doesn't talk about politics.

Me: I don't know why we're having this discussion, didn't you just play the Boot Scoot Boogie on the jukebox?

SDG: Yeah, I did.

Me: Then this conversation about punk is over.

SDG: But I like NOFX

Me: good for you...I don't.

SDG: Wanna go look at my Mustang in the parking lot? I punched it up to five grand tonight (no idea what he was talking about but I was guessing something to do with the tachometer?)

Me: Actually no, I'm going to pass this time...but thanks for the inticing offer.