Dreads, Hangovers and Heart Attacks

From: ac@email.com
To: thegirls@email.com
Subject: Three things

At a low point in my life, Saturday night I gave my number to a 24-year-old guy named Joel who has dreadlocks and I’m pretty sure deals drugs. He’s a friend of our young friends who are also 24. As you can guess, I was hammertime (there was an MJ dance-off at one point in the night). And I’m pretty sure I told him as he was typing in my number that I was way older than him. The kicker is that James told me when he was hanging with him earlier in the day, Joel said something to the effect of, “He used to get a lot of ass in Dallas because he was the only one with dreads.” And then he proceeded to light a bowl.

Cut to the next morning when I want to die of a hangover, and I see that I have a message from this dude from 3:07 am. “This is Joel, call me if you get this.” Ummm, no. After listening to the message, I proceeded to make James drive me to IHOP in my own car and then tried not to puke in my coffee cup. We’re mid-pancakes and an old man falls down and hits his head right beside us, and James says, “I think a man just had a heart attack.” 911 is called and the group hovering over the man ensues in the booth next to us. After about 10 minutes, everyone in the restaurant assumes he’s OK and turns back to consuming their Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruities as if nothing happened. Such a bizarre experience.

Trials of Love

me: I lied when I said the check was in the mail two days ago. I'm sorry for being a liar. Just call it like it is. I'M A LIAR!!!!!!!!!

a: 'sokay. I don't hate you.

me: But you don't love me anymore either. It's okay. I'll win you over again. YOU JUST WAIT AND SEE!

a: There are going to be trials. Hard trials. I'm not gonna sugarcoat it - you're gonna have to EARN my love back.

me: Trials like I have to run really fast stepping through big tires and then climb a wall using a rope without falling into the mudpit on the other side? (Please build this at the lake house.)

a: You seen Wipeout? Think that. Large bouncy balls and pits 'o mud.

me: Oh man.

a: Bring your helmet.

me: I'm gonna faceplant on one of those bouncy balls. You aren't even providing helmets?!

a: We may even joust American Gladiators style.

me: With our wizard staffs!

a: YESSSS. So you may want to bring your hockey mask, too. I'm violent.

me: duly noted

Feline Meatballs

From: me@work.com
To: e@work.com
Subject: Re: Here they go again

Damn you, Vietnamese meatballs. I do feel strongly about them, though. They're SO gross.


From: e@work.com
To: me@work.com
Subject: Re: Here they go again

They do have a funny texture. Kinda gritty. Must be the ground up cat bones.

Did I just say that?

They're Just Hot. It's That Simple.

(505): At a Peruvian bar with hot latino bartenders with baby chicken hair :)

(804): You shut your mouth right now unless you have a transporter to get me there.

History of Mankind, Best Friend in the

From: me@email.com
To: n@email.com
Subject: Re: blarghlarz again!

Debbie Downer signing off. Sorry for being a wet blanket.

Loves you.


From: n@email.com
To: me@email.com
Subject: Re: blarghlarz again!

It's ok, little wet blanket. I'll put you in the dryer anytime you need.

Parties at the Office

a: Ok, I'm usually all about theme parties and costumes, but just listen to this: A woman's last day in office is this week. So we're having a pot luck (so cliche) and are expected to wear "bon voyage/cruise" theme outfits. FML.

me: Total FML. That's absurd. Just wear your Frodo costume instead.

a: I should show up with a giant coconut full of liquor, wearing my bathing suit and stuffing my face from a buffet line.

me: And ask everyone to join in the macarena. Or Charlie Brown.

a: The Cupid Shuffle! Yessss.

me: Grass skirt.

a: Done. I can use this as an excuse to not shower.

Alcohol Depression

me: Are you still busy?

a: Nope. Or if by busy you mean doing genealogy research, then yes.

me: I think I'm having alcohol depression. I'm afraid I'm killing myself with drinking and feel like I need to stop.

a: Here's a plan: You do a little experiment. You drink ONLY beer while you're out.

me: I don't like drinking beer. It makes me full.

a: Exactly.

me: Oy vey. I just want to cry.

a: Don't cry.

me: I got to work this morning with my McD's and immediately knocked over a potted plant and filled my shoes with potting soil. So I've spent the day hungover sitting beside a heap of potting soil on the floor.

a: Hahahaha. Think of something happy ... like keyboard kitty.

me: Who is keyboard kitty?

a: Oh, hang on ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0jfYacp-r4

me: Oh my god, this cat is slaying me.

a: meow, meow

me: Is it drugged?!?!?

a: No, just wearing a jersey. It makes him docile.

me: You just sent me over the edge. When he looks up with his eyes closed I feel like he is soulful like Stevie Wonder.

a: So are you saying that all blind people are soulful?

me: Speaking of soulful songs, I was shoe shopping at Dillard's and "Everybody Plays the Fool" came on and I got really emotional.

a: I can never get emotional to that song b/c my friend in 7th grade started singing "Everybody plays the SPOONS" -- she thought those were the lyrics.

me: I play the fool, Amber. I do.

a: Nana also thought "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" was "Sittin' on the Top of the Bed."

...

Hallo? Are you lost in keyboard kitty's eyes?

me: I love that cat. He is drugged like me.

a: You should email him for advice.

me: Who? Last thing I got was about Nana.

a: The cat.