It's Official

I am now, officially, an Old Geyser.

FOLOTD Take Bahston

As I mentioned in a previous post, I was headed up to the East Coast, so I decided to look in on some new old friends, Mala and Bev. I had mentioned to Samsmama that I was a bit worried that I'd not be able to keep up with the antics of the Wild Women of New Hampshire, and she said that she was sure of it, and that I shouldn't even try. That was, in its own way, comforting.

It was decided that we'd meet at Boston's Fanueil Hall Marketplace, outside of the Cheers bar, eat dinner at McCormick and Schmicks, and then catch the comedy show at Cheers. I got there a bit early, and like any good stalker guy with extra time on his hands, decided to scope out the area, to find where we were supposed to meet and eat. I found the outdoor Cheers area easily, and kept walking around the building. When I got to the other side, there was another outdoor Cheers area. Hmmmmm. I thought I saw La Bev y La Mala sitting at a table there, but they were sitting with what appeared to be some homeless guy, and if they had thought that was me, I was going to be disappointed. Also, the woman that looked like Bev seemed to be a bit bored, and somehow I can't imagine Bev ever being bored.

I decided to sit at the side of Cheers that was nearer to McCormick and Schmicks, both because it seemed the more obvious meeting place, and I'd have to walk less to get to dinner. (I'm nothing if not lazy efficient.) I sat there watching people go by, seeing if I could spot B&M before they spotted me.

Not them. Too short.

Nope. Too old.

Probably not in the group of 47 kids.

Uh uh. Too much facial hair.

A few minutes later, I was approached by a couple of women, one of whom was quite bevalicious, and the other who was muy malarrific. The bevalicious one whispered something in a soft raspy voice.

"What?" I replied, "YOU WANT ME TO STICK IT WHERE?"

Oops. I guess I had misunderstood what she said.

It was Bev and Mala! (Though they tried to convince me that it was Mala and Bev.)

I reached into my back pocket for the weeds flowers that I had pulled from a yard bought at an expensive florist earlier in the afternoon and presented them to my newfound old friends. Bev's reaction? "How long do I have to hold this?"

We then went to dinner, where Bev and Mala instantly started to peruse the wine menu. When I ordered iced tea, Bev asked me if I wasn't going to join them.

"Why, are you falling apart?" I asked. (And Samsmama didn't think I'd be able to keep up. I think I just put that silly notion to rest.)

Dinner was good, even though the waiter got my and Bev's dishes mixed up.

As we were finishing dinner, Mala spied the "Special Drinks Menu," so we all had Bacon and Bleu Cheese Martinis for dessert. These were just regular martinis with bacon and bleu cheese stuffed into the olives, so as long as you kept the olives out of the gin, they were ok, but as soon as you let your olives dip into the juniper berry elixir, all bets were off, as the martini quickly became a milky sludge.

Mala uses gin to wash away the wine on my arm.

Checking the validity of Bev's claims.
Yes. Very.

After I helped Bev finish her dessert, we headed over to Cheers, only to find that the comedy show was not going to happen. After Bev and Mala finished terrorizing Norm and Frasier, we went off to mingle with the locals:

Bev's are nicer.

and find the improv club that we were told about. We got there about an hour early, so got drinks (What? No gin? No bacon? No bleu cheese? I'll have a glass of wine, I guess.) and waited for the next show.

Is this an improv show, or a peep show?

During the intermission of the improv show, Bev whispered those three little words that brought joy and happiness to my ears:

"Can we leave?"

So we high-tailed it out of there, and went over to the Hard Rock, where we checked out stuff:

Mala checks out Ian Anderson's blouse, I check out something else.

For some reason, we were the only party they sat outside. They must have heard us coming. Maybe we should have arrived in the Hummer limo that Bev accosted on the way, surely they would have given us a better table, then! At least they had gin, so I was happy.

A few more pictures taken, a few more laughs shared, then, alas, it was time to go our separate ways, and we each had hour-long drives ahead of us.

It was a great time, and well worth the trip to Boston. Thanks, ladies!

Turnabout is fair play.

(Many thanks to Pookie for the photos!)

East Coast Bound

All of the restraining orders have expired (I think), so I'm heading up to the East Coast this weekend. I'm going to start out in Boston, and if I survive Friday night with Bev and Mala, I'll fly down to Maryland to watch my nieces graduate from high school.

So, I'll be in the MD/VA/DC area, if any of you want to have lunch or something. The best time for me would be Saturday, May 29, as the family will be off to see some play about an opera.

Whiskeygirl, Wendy in RI VA, what do y'all say? Batter of Tact Commie, you bring AL and I'll bring the sandwich bags!

Leave me a comment, or e-mail if you want to get together.

Keva and OBMJ, I'll wave as I fly over your state.

I'm Waiting for Part Three

From xkcd.

Kids Say the Damnedest Shit

Do you remember the first time you uttered a swear word? I do. I was about six years old, and down the street, watching the big kids play pool. One of them missed a shot and said, "Shit."

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"Uh, that means nothing," one of the big kids replied.

When I later returned home, one of my cousins was playing cards with my sisters. I looked at her hand, and saw that she had nothing. Huzzah! This was my chance to show off my expanded vocabulary!

"You've got shit," I said, proudly.

"What did you say??" one of my sisters asked.

"I said that she has shit. It means that she has nothing." Cool, I was already getting to teach my new word to others.

I was quickly told that I was not to use that word again.

Fast forward about 20 years, to Christmastime at my mother's house. Mom and I were sitting at the breakfast room table with my four year old niece, K, while here mother, D, was in the kitchen. D dropped something and said, "Dammit!"

"Deeeeee," Mom said, pointing at K.

"Not supposed to say 'dammit,'" said K, in all of her golden curly haired, red-cheeked cuteness.

"That's right, K," said Grandma, proudly.

K then finished her thought with, "S'posed to say 'shit'!"

Cut to three adults, all turning their heads away from poor K, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Swearing kids are so cute, aren't they?



Ok, this one's not so cute, but it's kind of funny, when he's asked where he picked up his new word:


Goddammit, woman, put this kid in Time Out, already!



And of course, the ever classic:

He's ALIIIIIIIIVE!

Hmmmm.... Well, so much for the element of surprise. But, at least I can withhold the identity of the "He" in question until the very end.

Garrito.

Dammit!

Anyhow, Samsmama and I were chatting one night, and his name came up. He hasn't shown his lovely face in quite some time. Since he got married, in fact.

Garrito's lovely face

We found him on Facebook, and each sent him a message. I didn't get a response by the next evening, so I sent a message to one of his Friends who had the same last name. She was the only Friend that Garrito had with the same last name, so I thought that maybe she was his lovely new bride. I thought it odd that she had more Friends with his family than he did, but I try not to judge. I asked her if he was still alive, or if she killed him on the honeymoon for the insurance.

The next day, I got a message from Garrito hisownself! He is aliiiiiiive! But you already knew that. *sigh*

He said that he had decided that all the time he spent on blogs and blogging could be better spent earning a living, so he had pretty much cut it out, although he still visits LOTD from time to time. He also said that his cousin now thinks that he has a stalker, "a male stalker. Ewwwww!"

So, see, Bev? That really wasn't his body that you found under my bed!

Huh. Looking at Garrito's profile for this post, I see that he doesn't follow my blog. That punk-ass bitch.

A memory from Senior Prom Weekend

A while back, List of the Day had a post which included the prom pictures of many of his readers. I did not submit a photo for this list.

Woodwoman, however, specifically requested that I submit "a pic from that era, at the very least..."

Never wanting to disappoint, and always willing to do the very least, that is the purpose of this post.

I can't post a picture of myself at the prom, because I didn't go to the prom. Instead, I was at a North American Series Frisbee tournament in Dallas.


While, technically, I was in college when the following photo was taken, this is what I was doing during the weekend of my Senior Prom:


My mother's reaction to seeing her loving son featured in the local newspaper?

"Your feet sure are dirty!"