I was just pooping and texting my mother at the same time; they should totally have a word for that. ...I just looked it up, and of course they already do: Shexting.
She sent me an Easter box, my mother did, and wondered whether I got it. I did, and have already eaten, and apparently passed, the candy in it. She also sent me a Happy Easter garland, which I hung from one window, so my whole house is somber except for one pastel nod to the holiday.
Yesterday Ned and I had the day off, because it's the South, so everyone is Good Friday-ing, which here means everyone is headed to the damn beach. I don't know how the whole country doesn't tilt to the right on this weekend, with the number of people in North Carolina who stampede to the beach.
Ned and I did not stampede to the beach, because we're rebels, and also because stampeding to the beach costs us 11 million dollars in animal daycare. I wish I had kids and could just leave them in the hot car like everyone else does.
The point is, we slept in, then I had lunch with a friend, and oh! Get this! We went to a Thai place, and they had this option where you could kind of build your own lunch. So I said, "I'd like the chicken, and cashews, and ginger."
The waitress did that thing I hate, where they lean over to stare at the menu, like you've asked for something so exotic they want to make sure they didn't come to work at the wrong restaurant that day. "It's here, under the part B," I told her, trying not to sound completely annoyed, and if you've met my annoyance you know that's impossible.
"Yeah. You can only get one," she said.
"One? I can't get both cashew nuts and ginger?"
Well. Thanks for the customer service. I mean, I'd have been willing to PAY that extra dollar for a little ginger, as Gilligan would say. I mean, come on.
When the meal came, I said to my friend, "You know what would have made this even better? Ginger."
"When she comes to ask how everything is, you should ask for a little ginger."
I really should have asked to see a manager or something. As you can see, 24 hours later I'm still incensed over it. Put me in a container and light my tip on fire. I'll scent your room. Incensed.
Anyway. After that was over, I stuck my ginger-free leftovers in the refridge, and then Ned and I headed off to the arboretum. There's this sign on this one street here that reads "Arboretum" with an arrow pointing down a little road, and I've always wanted to go, just like how I always wanted to go to the death museum in LA and look how that turned out. Did I ever tell you about going to the death museum? If not, remind me to.
Anyway, the death arboretum was lovely, as you can see from this crystal-clear photo. A lot of stuff was in bloom, and there were people milling about. We were headed to this one archway thing when this couple with an adorable mixed-race toddler who had the world's biggest June afro came out. "You don't want to go in there," said the mom of June Hair. "There's a couple on the grass, and the woman is topless, in just her underwear."
We thanked her and waited till she was out of sight before tearing through that arch to see the half-naked woman. When we got there, she'd put on her clothes. Price is Right losing horn.
Anyway, as we traversed the park, we ran into my friend Tank, the Miracle Angel Baby and his wife. I saw their dog first, because you know how I am. "Oh, my god, is that Shug?" I asked, and right then I knew, Tank was at the arboretum.
Oh my god, it was exciting to see them. I can't think of the last time I saw those two, not to mention Shug, who is a big white pitty-looking dog. She is 13 now, and I was petting her bones, when she meandered over to the dirt and snuffled in there and came out with a goddamn vole! She shook shook shook her big pitty head, and Tank told her to DROP IT, but that is when the arboretum became the death museum after all. I am sincerely hoping the vole wasn't on his way to get pizza and his whole vole family is still waiting.
were he beee? wate-ing for large with pepperoni and gnat!
Do you enjoy my vole-speak? My widowed vole speak? I read about his widowed vole bride. Something touched me deep inside, the day the rodent died.
Once Ned and I got our exercise, we retired on campus for some crystal-clear hot dogs and focused ice cream. My problem is, I can't see up close, so I have no idea if anything close is in focus. Also, I cannot take pictures.
This particular place is at UNCG, and Ned and I sat on the wall and played "Would you?" It's where you take a drink if you'd sleep with the person walking by. It's a college campus. Ned and I were waterlogged. Well. Technically he was Cheerwine-logged.
Ooo! Also? We got Easter-egg dye and this year they have packets of sparkles you can add to your egg!! Expect blurry shots of that soon!
Finally, last night we went to dinner, and I am sorry to tell you whatever Ned ordered, which I am also sorry to tell you had the word "veggie" in its title, was the best thing he's ever eaten in his life. It was some kind of mixed vegetable (VEGETABLE) thing with salmon. You know how Ned is when he gets an item he likes. He's brought it up so often since he had the last of it that I asked him if he had a quote for us about it. Here it is.
I have never had a bad meal in this particular restaurant. But this meal takes this place to another level. It was goddamn delicious, I'll tell you that much. It was fucking great. If I were Tony the Tiger, I'd say, It's grrrrrreat! I'm worried it will ruin me for all other salads. I was angry when it was gone.
Good lord. I have to sleep with a man who says something is on "another level."
You honestly have no idea how often he's brought this dinner up. So to speak. I got, by the way, a salad with spinach, goat cheese, green apples and salmon, which was also delicious, but I do not have to get out a slab of marble and sculpt the moment for all time. I often say food is Ned's sex, and he says that's not true, sex is his sex, and I will say for the record that if he is particularly enamored of that day's sex, he will also recap it often for the next day or two. You will be pleased to hear I will not ask him for a quote on it.
Finally, last night we watched a bunch of Twilight Zone episodes, a thing we've been doing lately. There was one where a woman encountered this particularly annoying child, who turned out to be the woman herself, as a child. It is a shame when your inner child turns out to be a real buck-toothed asshole.
Now I have to get up and do fucking Tracy Chapman. I ordered a different DVD, try to mix things up, and I want to punch her in the cock even more than I did on the LAST DVD. But I will keep doing it, because I wish to be thin, and now is the time to ignore that giant cup of blurry pistachio I showed you awhile back.