...friend/Ned left his Swiss Army Knife here, so if today's the day the Swiss Army needs to invade, he is screwed. "We're gonna burst into that country and open ALL THEIR CANS! No cork is safe!"
Often on Sundays, we see a pretentious movie, then have brunch, which is really more dunch because it's 3:00 or 4:00 when we do that, and then afterward we'll come sit on my deck, which turns us into skeletons because the mosquitoes eat every ounce of flesh we own. ...friend/Ned refuses to use Off. I think he thinks it's full of toxins or something, which, whatever. What would you rather do, die in 30 years of Off toxins or not get bitten right this moment?
Anyway, my pal Gertrude told me if you point a fan at yourself the mosquitoes won't bug you, so yesterday when he came to get me for our pretentious movie, Ned/...friend--and I am really getting tired or typing that--brought an oscillating fan.
We were all excited to use said oscillating fan but first we had the movie, which had been a source of some discussion. You have never met anyone who enjoys a depressing movie more than Ned/... . Oh, I like that. "Ned/... ." Anyway he'd been reading our choices to me, and one of them was a French film about a quadraplegic guy who gets a caretaker from the 'hood, and 1990 called and wants the word "'hood" back, and I said, "Oh, that French one sounds mos' def. Let's leave my crib and see that. Homie."
Ned and his dots did NOT want to see that one. He said it sounded too happy. Honest to GOD, he only likes a sad movie. "You're a terribly unhappy person," I told him, just waiting to whip out the "I have a UTI and whose fault is it" line should he resist any further. "I'm NOT a terribly unhappy person! I'm a very happy person, in fact. It's just that happy movies are so unrealistic."
So there you go.
Anyway, we saw it. And IT WAS GREAT. (You know you don't have to look at this in the teensy size, right? If you click on it it'll take up your whole screen.)
"A French Driving Miss Daisy," Ned/... said, when we left. Guess who bugs me? Guess who laughed at that for an hour, because it kind of was?
Because he'd been at the beach all week and ate horrifically good unhealthy food, Ned/dot was craving (wait for it) a salad.
So we went to the totally not pretentious AT ALL Whole Foods. I wasn't very hungry, which might be a side effect of my Cipro, and in which case, yay. My Cipro also says, "Avoid prolonged exposure to the sun," which is exactly what you want to hear when you're on your way to Hawaii.
I didn't at ALL lean over and pick all the grapes out of this salad, which I'm sure was not annoying. In the slightest.
This picture might have been more mildly amusing in the BEGINNING of July, but whatever.
Finally, it was time to go to my crib, and didn't I already use "crib"? Crap, I did. We were gonna be chillin' at my house and it was gonna be off the hook. There. I am so fresh.
But when Ned/... got the fan out of his car, it was broken. The neck-y part® was snapped, making it kind of an Isadora Duncan fan, and in MY world, this would have meant, "Well. So much for that." BOOM! Into the trash. But not ...Ned. No, sir.
"Have you got any whoo de bloop blees?" he asked, wanting some manly tool thing. This gave me the perfect opportunity to whip out my pink toolkit, so to speak, and once again I'd like to point out I got that toolkit the weekend Marvin left, thinking I'd be all do-it-myself, and so far the only people to go near those tools are whichever poor sap I'm dating when they've been roped into fixing something for me.
Eventually, ...Ned decided we needed string, or twine, or something, and we had to go to Target.
I dare you. Really I DARE you, to go to Target today and find string. Or twine. We asked THREE PEOPLE, and all three directed us to different parts of the store (tools, automotive and crafts) and yet? YET? NO STRING!
We did, in our search for nonexistent Target string, see a backpack or something where Tinkerbell was gettin' all cozy with another fairy.
"Ohhh! Is Tinkerbell--well good for her. I imagine she has to go for anyone, male or female, who's her size," said ...Ned. Then I'm afraid we said all sorts of inappropriate things about Peter Pan, and after all that, God did not see fit to show us any string.
The point is, we got back here, and with my Hello Kitty duct tape and the twine we got AT THE GROCERY STORE, TARGET STEVE, and with the help of his Army Knife of the Swiss, friend got that poor oscillating fan to stop having a broken neck.
"Good Lord, that's terrible," he said, looking at the four pounds of string and Hello Kitty tape. "Please don't show this to Hulk," he said. And that is why I'm not showing you the poor fan. Because showing it here is showing it to Hulk. Hulk, go off and think about Tinkerbell's lesbian affair so I can show everyone else the fan.
And you know what? It worked! No mosquitoes bugged us. The only thing bugging us was Edsel, who runs over with his blue toy, then when you try to take it from him to throw it he runs away, appalled. Then five seconds later he's nudging you with the blue toy.
No fans seem to work on that.
