boyfriends

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3-Day Feet

March 9, 2011 in Uncategorized | 4 comments

And here we are, a mere 19 weeks and 3 days after completing the 3-Day, 60 mile Walk for the Cure. Prepare yourself before viewing the picture below:

Pretty gross, huh? I’ve already lost 3 toenails, although you can probably only tell on the big toe on the left. I originally thought I’d lose that right toenail, too, but it seems like it’s just growing out since it’s only black on the tippy top and one side. That’s a real bummer for me, as I have been giving my shorn nails to my supporters. You know, little mementos of thanks. I was actually saving that last one for my cousin, since he selfishly scheduled his wedding during the walk so I had to miss it. I actually thought it would be a nice gesture to give it to him and his new wife, just to let them know I’ve forgiven them and everything.

I’m posting this today because the Highbeams (my walking team, remember?) are reuniting for brunch this weekend and I figure I may as well spread the gruesomeness. After this, I plan to get acrylic toenails. It is getting too close to spring to risk being seen like this. (It’s bad enough that I have to wait until the lights go down in yoga before I can expose my feet.) Even my good toes look bad!!

But also, I am posting this as my good deed of the day. See, there was a guy in high school who adored my feet, and I fear he’s never really gotten over them. So today I grant him his freedom. This is for you, Brian. You’re welcome.

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The Reunion Report

July 25, 2010 in Uncategorized | 2 comments

We stressed over it for months (wait – you were stressing along with me, right?), and it’s finally done. My 20-year class reunion has come and gone. Did I have the wrinkle-free baby face of my high school years? No. But somebody said I finally look old enough to drive a car, so I’ll take that as a compliment.

Did all the guys who didn’t ask me to prom (that would be all of them) fall down and start crying at their missed opportunity? No.* (Although they could have been doing it in the mens room – I didn’t check in there.)

Did my best friends change their minds and go with me? No. (Skanks.)

Did anyone else wear sequins to the “casual chic” event? Um, no. But I got a lot of compliments on my dress, so that should count for something. See for yourself.

I know, I know, my photographer sucks. But he is low paid and I can abuse him, so I keep him around.

Favorite reunion moment: Upon my stating that I was sober, one of my oldest and dearest friends responding, “Since when?? You sure weren’t sober at the beginning of the night!” Um, yeah. That actually happened.

Worst moment: Stating on FaceBook that I hated I’d missed seeing my friend Steven, and them having him reply, “You did see me. You hugged me.” Yikes. Did I mention I am nearly blind in dim light since my Lasik surgery? (And no damn way was I going to wear my driving glasses that night.) I know you’re seriously questioning whether I fell off the wagon, but I assure you I was sober. Which makes this next statistic so sad…

Number of people who saw my panties: Countless, when I bent over to pick up these graduation hats and then realized I was out in front of the group picture and basically flashed everyone. The good news? I went to high school with all of them, so they’ve all seen my panties before from one klutzy move or another. (Thanks for nothing, 10 grueling years of ballet!)

Number of old boyfriends guilt-tripped: Sadly, only one. He was the only guy I dated who showed up (I think. I told you I couldn’t see in there). But I made the best of it and gave him a full 30 minutes of lecturing. And I got an apology, which just goes to show you that carrying around a grudge for 20-something years can be quite rewarding in the end. Only a couple dozen more to hunt down and berate – let’s hope some come to the 30-year!

Number of people who offered to pay for some of my years of therapy: One, and he apologized for calling me “Toby” my entire senior year, a nickname he gave me after we saw a hermaphrodite named Toby on “Sally Jesse Raphael” one night. (Now if only those people who called me “Stick” would offer to reimburse me as well…)

Did I get the closure I was seeking? I don’t know. I don’t know what I was looking for. But there was a lot of love in that room, and nobody seemed to hate me as I had feared, so I’m going to put it in the “W” column.

*Special thanks to my friend Brian, who is a year younger than I and took me to my prom after all the loser senior boys asked other girls. (Although I would be really pissed if I found out he wrote that off his taxes as a charitable donation.)

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Nuns Don’t Have Warts, but You Probably Do

June 4, 2010 in Uncategorized | 4 comments

One of my girlfriends says that baking in UV rays when we were younger is the biggest regret of her life. Now, first of all, I have seen this girl through many haircuts and boyfriends over the years, and the UV rays really shouldn’t rank up at the top of the regret list. Although -unlike hair and boys – skin damage is permanent, so I’ll give her that. But also? Are you kidding me? That’s her biggest regret?? And she’s even Catholic. Aren’t they supposed to be guilt experts? I’m shocked that this is all she could come up with.

Although I, too, baked in the sun when I was younger, I don’t beat myself up about it. I am too busy beating myself up over much worse things than wrinkles and liver spots. What I do regret, though, is going to the dermatologist and showing him my problem areas. I usually go once a year and have half my face, chest, and upper arms frozen off. It’s worked well until my last visit when I asked him to look down, you know, there. I had noticed a spot last summer that looked new, so I just needed him to look at it and say it was no big deal.

Which he did not.

What he said was, “This here is either a skin tag or a” – get ready for it – “wart.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! I immediately started covering up and crawling under the table and such, but he insisted on doing a biopsy. And I kid you not, this required not one but TWO shots of novacaine right into the hoo-hoo region. I lay on that table cursing the boyfriend I knew was responsible for this damn mess (and you know who you are, mister!) and praying it would all be over quickly. Verra verra humiliating.

Of course, I could hardly wait till I got to the parking lot to call M and all my friends to tell them what happened. (I think my friends actually look forward to my dr. appointments, because something always happens.) So here goes my public service message. My girlfriends in their 30s and 40s are aware of and most have HPV, but it seems that people older than I am are clueless. Let me enlighten y’all. It’s a virus that can cause cervical cancer. It’s estimated that 75-80% of people will have it in their lifetimes, and the ones who don’t are nuns. It is also the virus that causes GENITAL WARTS. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew.

I’m sharing this bit of personal humiliation with you so you’ll think twice before having your dermatologist check out that little skin tag that you’ve noticed recently. Instead, you need tell no one. But time to let the Brazilian go, hon.

Also, if you’re a mom, there’s a vaccination for HPV nowadays. If your daughter has it, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’s having intercourse. Like that time I got mononucleosis in high school – I hadn’t kissed anyone, but then I found out this cute boy had it at the same time, so I let everybody believe whatever they wanted. (He later puked all over me in college, so we’re pretty even.)

And as for my friend with no regrets, all I will say is I HAVE PICTURES. Then I’ll cackle really loud and evil-like and disappear in a poof of smoke. Because that’s what best friends do.

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Hugh Grant Loves Me

May 7, 2010 in Uncategorized | 17 comments

Husband M is shaking in his boots right now, as his wife is getting ready to have an affair. See, we’ve always had a deal that if anyone on our Top 10 Lists ever asked one of us out, the other spouse has to agree. What this means is that if Michelle Pfeiffer comes knocking on our door, I will gladly step aside for a night or two (or however long it takes her to decide she can’t put up with his snoring).

Our lists have been very passive, in that we don’t actually attempt to contact any of these people. (Okay, there was that time I waddled my 7-months-pregnant ass down to the casting call for “We Are Marshall”, but that was more about cinematic integrity than sleeping with Matthew McConnaughey. Am I the only one who thinks that movie could have benefitted from a sidebar story about a knocked-up cheerleader?) But things are changing. A few days ago, Hugh Grant began an online Q&A session. And guess whose question he answered – MINE! Take a look at our conversation:

Me: Do you dance often? Are you a good dancer?

Hugh: I’m a terrible, terrible dancer. And I dislike it, too.

You can practically feel the heat coming off the computer from the sexual undertones in his reply. He says he doesn’t like dancing, but what I hear is that he wouldn’t want to waste our time dancing when he could be getting to know my soul. I’d say he’s definitely interested in meeting me, don’t you agree?

You’re not acting as excited as I thought you would. What are you, selfish or something? Then you probably are not going to like what I say next:

I have been invited to the set of “The Green Lantern” this summer! Hooray for me! And hooray for Ryan Reynolds, who gets to meet/have an affair with me! Sadly, no hooray for Scarlett Johansson, whom Ryan will have to dump before pursuing a relationship with me. (Y’all know how I feel about women stealing other people’s husbands.) Scar Jo, I am sure you are a very nice person and you are indeed a fine actor, but you can’t stop destiny. Sorry, hon.

So you can see how I’m thisclose to not one, but two fabulous affairs. Although I am a little worried about M. I told him of this great threat to our marriage, and he didn’t even look away from the golf tournament on TV when he said “Mmmm hmmm”. Clearly he is in a state of shock/horrible denial. (Or just totally jealous that Hugh & Ryan love me, and he’s heard nary a word from Michelle.)

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Things I Learned from Guys

April 28, 2010 in Uncategorized | No comments

1. If you think a guy might be making a move on you, he is.
2. Every man you know has pictured you naked at least once. (It doesn’t matter if you’re just friends or respectful colleagues or whatever. Apparently this is something men do.)
3. Guys don’t like it if a wife answers her husband’s phone. It shocks the caller to hear a female voice, and makes the husband look like his wife is all up in his business (which we are, but pretend not to be for the sake of husband’s cool-guy status).
4. Men don’t like to be phoned when they’re out with the guys. (This doesn’t apply if you’ve been dating less than six months, but after that timeframe you really shouldn’t call to ask “Whatcha doin’?” and then call back in a half hour to ask, “Whatcha doin’ now?”)
5. Guys don’t like it when you drag them out of  strip clubs. (Although every guy I’ve ever known has said he doesn’t really care for strip clubs; he just goes there because that’s where all the other guys want to go. I secretly believe the strip club business would take a serious financial blow if men were honest with each other and said they’d rather have a pint somewhere “quiet, so we can talk” instead. But not to worry, men will never do that.)
6. Guys don’t like to say they’re afraid of anything. They will instead say they hate something. Like my husband is afraid of hates clowns.
7. Guys don’t want you to be friends with their wives. You may slip up and tell them something they’re not supposed to know. (I’d like to point out that, if everyone were honest in the first place, this wouldn’t be an issue.)
8. No, guys never get sick of watching The Godfather movies. Same with Scarface, Blow, and that Bourne guy.
9. When golfing with guys, it is better to be fast than to be good. Bad scores can be overlooked; backing up the course cannot.
10. Guys don’t care if it’s all fake looking, as long as it looks good. They don’t want their wives to look like Jenna Jameson, but they certainly perk up when other women do.

I hope this information helps somebody out there. Have a great day!

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