Last night, there was an enormous spider on Ned's wall. It was a major spider. You can imagine my manly response.
Ned got rid of it, and agreed it was a giant spider. "I think he was suicidal. He didn't even put up a fight," he said.
"I wonder what got him so depressed. Maybe he found his wife in the eight arms of another man."
Nothing from Ned. Bupkis. "That was good stuff, there," I pointed out. And still, Ned was Easter Island.
Try the veal.
But all of this is neither here nor there. What I was really going to tell you was that I got up with my cute friend Wilma last night.
She also got to meet Ned, which we've all been wanting to arrange for some time, as her daughter-in-law used to date Ned. I mean, before she married Wilma's son. Otherwise, awkward. The point is, small world, wouldn't want to paint it.
I just adore Wilma, and hope I can ever be half as cool. News flash: That will never happen.
In other news, today is my Pal from MA's birthday. She is 82.
"You know, now that I'm four, I feel like I have so much firmer of a grasp on life," she'd say, shaking her hair around sophisticatedly, as though she'd seen all the love and hate and lust and horror the world had to offer since she'd turned four. As though she'd seen a million faces and she'd rocked them all.
I'd watch her, filled with envy and rage and wondering what "grasp" meant, seeing as I was three.
Dear Pal, Now that I'm still 48, I feel so spry and lively. Oh, is that a 23-year-old boy looking me over? It's because I'm still nubile at 48. At 49, I know you wouldn't understand. [shake shake shake of hair]
Anyway, happy birthday, Pal. I am sorry I did not get you a real gift, but as of last night I had $23 in checking. My life is fabulous. (And I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Ned for feeding me last night on our date with Wilma. Y'all, we got three plates of appetizers. A tomato flatbread; some ahi tuna; and a plate with various cheeses, duck breast, pate, something that looked like communion wafers and slivered almonds.)
("Slivered almonds" always sound like the sexiest almonds, to me. You got your raw, your salted, even your smoked almonds. But they can't compete with slivered. Slivered almonds are the Marilyn Monroe of almonds.)
(What is wrong with me?) Anyway, it was all delicious. Then after we said goodbye to Wilma we had to go eat again because Ned was still hungry. We did a bang-bang, which is a thing Louis CK and his brother do on Louis CK's show, where they have one full meal and get up and go to another restaurant and have a second meal. Bang-bang. That's totally what Ned did.
Do you watch that show? It is excellent.
Okay, I have to go to work, but I will catch you later, when I will still be 48.