This was a dumb weekend. I mean, it started out not dumb.
I emailed Ned near the end of the day Friday. "Are you going to the gym after work?"
"Not if it's important to you that I don't," he wrote back. See, folks? Therapy. IT WORKS.
"Yes," I wrote back. "I have had a day. I want to go have fun immediately." I knew if we worked out, then Ned came home and showered, it would be 8:00 before we went anywhere, and nothing makes me annoyed-er than having to wait 45 minutes to get a table. I would do terribly living in New York.
We walked to the new restaurant that the lesbian taco woman opened. There's a huge brewery on one side, then a restaurant that serves "street food," so I was expecting dishes of tar and gravel and so on. Mmmm!
We schlepped down there and immediately ran into five people we knew. Bitchy Resting Face Alex and her husband, a woman who sits behind me at work who I must drive berserk, the president of our company, this other guy from work who's also a comedian in his spare time (like me), and the head of one of our divisions at work. It was like all of work got a memo.
Remember when we used to get memos? Remember how stupid they always were? Also, do you know what I love? Is when people say, "I didn't get the memo" about something everyone else is doing at work. Oh, that's hilarious. "You all have on blue shirts. Apparently I didn't get the memo." Oh, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Slappin' my knee.
Anyway, apparently I DID get the memo--and wait. Let me stitch up my sides. Because there I was eatin' street food with everyone else at work. We got there before 6:00 and there was already a half-hour wait.
It was worth it, though, because everything was delicious. I had water. Mmmm! Every time I say that hilarious "Mmmmm," I think of the Pearl Drops Tooth Polish commercial where she really says, "Nnnnnn!" because she's licking her teeth. Nnnnn, it's a great feeling!
They served us some spicy popcorn while we waited, and then we got fried okra, and when I say "we," I mean Ned, but he did not slap my hand away as I would have his when I kept taking me the okra. I was like Steadman. Could not keep my hands off the okra. Nnnnnn!
Oh, who are we kidding. Gayle.
So that was fun, and it was a nice walk there, and after we sat on the porch so I could get West Nile.
Self-portrait of self and self's house. And self's hair.
Ned let NedKitty out for five minutes, and I know this picture makes it look like we were all, Go! Be free! Play in the yard! But in fact, the whole time she's out there, Ned is seven inches away at all times, following her. Anyway, she's too creaky to get into trouble. I always accuse Ned of helicopter parenting, but I've had zero cats live to be 15, so. Also, this picture makes it look like she's inches from the road, but she's not.
On Saturday, Ned and I went shopping, because Tallulah is going to be famous! -er. Famous-er. I wrote an article for work, and I feel like I shouldn't go into too much detail on that right now, but it involves Tallulah, and walking Talu, and I will for sure make you all go read it when it's up. Last week they told me they wanted to come take photos of us walking.
Well.
Poor Talu's gotten a nice bath, which is her favorite thing on earth, and I considered putting her on the lemon juice and cayenne pepper diet all weekend, but figured I'd come home at some point to all the other pets having been eaten, and Talu lying on the couch with a toothpick.
She also got a new Gentle Leader collar, which is her second-favorite thing on earth.
Lu get wuts?
Then it dawned on me that I had no idea what I was gonna wear. "Since it's a walking article, I thought I'd get cute athletic gear," I told my mother. "I'll look like someone who works out all the time!"
"Well. No one will ever believe that," said my mother.
....!
I had in my mind a darling ensemble like that woman had on at Fitness at the Fountain last week; remember how I told you about her? I'd link to it, but this whole post I've been texting with the handyman and my tenants, which I will get to in a minute. Did I mention be sure to give me advice on that, when I get to it?
Be sure to. Be sure to tell me how you know my sitch much better than I do. BE SURE TO.
So Ned and I screamed off to the workout-clothing store, where I picked up cute little worky outy tanks and worky outy pants, and gleefully headed to the dressing room, where apparently someone stuffed a sausage into some workout gear and took a 5'6" photo of it to decorate the dressing room.
Oh, holy cats. That's no photo.
You guys. That was the most depressing hour of my life. You should have seen me in those things. There was one point? In a mirror behind me? That I saw the back of my arms. WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE BACKS OF MY ARMS? Why am I your grandma all of a sudden?
So. Athletic clothes. Not boughten.
I mean, I did Tracy Chapman twice this weekend. Why the school mArms?
Anyway. So that was bad enough, and then on Sunday I get a call from my tenant at 8:45 a.m., which is always a good sign. The water heater thing just up and broke, and needs replacing, and oh, let me just pull out my wedge of cash I keep in my safe like I'm Elmer Fudd. Didn't Elmer Fudd have a safe? I know he and a mansion und a yacht.
So yesterday I spent all day calling home-improvement places and handymen who were not James Taylor and I am happy to announce I am the proud new owner of a fucking water heater for my house.
I'd like to once again tell you how much I welcome advice re this. Because did not spend 9 hours of day working on it yesterday, SO BE SURE TO TELL ME I DID IT WRONG.
So at my house today, they'll be putting in a water heater, and Ned will be screaming over there to pay the guy, and just now at 8 a.m. I had someone come over here to give me some paperwork to sign because I'm doing a huge freelance project right now, and in the meantime I am getting my makeup all good and COVERING MY ARMS for Talu's photo sesh later today, and oh, it's going to be 96 today. Can already hear the cicadas outside.
Then tonight I have to write Purple Clover and Ned and I have therapy.
Other than that, not much. You?
Oh, and here's my latest Purple Clover article. I like how I've just rambled on and on and now I'm giving you a Purple Clover about never shutting up.
So I will shut it.
P.S. Oh, look! Here I am! Not shutting it! I did not want to forget that at the end of yesterday, we got up with Marty and Kayeeee for a bit, and Marty was telling me about this time Kayeeee dragged him to some bar, and apparently it was a bit, you know, dive-y. "What was it called?" he asked Kayeeee. "Puke and Stab?"
Puke and Stab is my new favorite name. If I have a baby, and maybe I'm about to and that explains the back of my arms, I am so naming it Puke and Stab. Okay, really going now.
