Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Conversations With Jess: Don't You Forget About Me
JESS: How was your Mother's Day?
ME: Relatively uneventful. J drank so much root beer that he power-luged all over the patio and M totally lost his shit in the middle of Target. Typical day. How about you?
JESS: We got a sitter and went out to El Fuego.
ME: Oh shit. You didn't drink tequila did you? Jess? TELL me you didn't drink tequila!
JESS: Guilty as charged, mi amiga.
ME: Oh my God. Did "she" show up?
JESS: You mean "Bad Jess"? Oh yeah, in all her splendor. The last thing I remember is singing "Rolling In The Deep" with some guy outside the 7-11. And I think I may have ordered the first season of "Sanford & Son" on DVD. I'll know when the Visa bill gets here.
ME: Am I going to start seeing you at AA?
JESS: Why? So they can tow my car?
ME: Wait. . .what? That's Triple-A, you dipshit! AA is a totally different club altogether.
JESS: Pfft! I'd have to see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse playing Mario Kart in my living room before I'd quit drinking. I don't know how the hell you did it.
ME: I didn't have a choice. You don't get it because you aren't an alcoholic, whereas I was sinking vodka faster than the Lusitania.
JESS: Ooh! Obscure maritime reference for the win!
ME: I am a veritable font of motherfucking knowledge, yo.
JESS: Indeed. So how's that guy you're seeing.
ME: Meh. . .I broke up with him.
JESS: So, what was wrong with THIS one?
ME: What's that supposed to mean?
JESS: All I mean is, you complain about being the crazy cat lady who lives alone eating Soup For One and collecting Anne Geddes posters and yet you dismiss perfectly decent guys for stupid reasons!
ME: They aren't stupid!
JESS: OK. . .Paul.
ME: He had a Nickelback CD in his car.
ME: He put mustard on his french fries.
ME: He always said "irregardless", I mean, c'mon. That's not even a word!
JESS: OK, I'll give you that one. Tom.
ME: He always wore Nikes.
JESS: He WORKED for Nike!
ME: yeah, but. . .still.
JESS: I give up. You're smart, you're funny, you aren't physically repellent, and you have a near effortless ability to create a masterpiece of verbal profanity that would make a prison guard blush. You deserve a decent guy so stop pushing them all away. Not all men are like Gil. If they were, the human race would die off.
ME: OK, OK. Don't get all "Hallmark Hall of Fame" on me. It's too early for me to handle this Danielle Steel level of intimacy.
JESS: Fuck you.
ME: That's better. Gina got all sappy on my this morning and I don't want to cry twice in one day. It totally kills my gangsta street cred.
JESS: Gina can't help being sweet. She's the Molly Ringwald.
ME: The what?
JESS: The Molly Ringwald! Haven't you noticed that in any given group of friends, everyone falls into one specific "Breakfast Club" persona? The princess, the athlete, the brain, the criminal, and the basket case. Gina's our princess. She's the Molly Ringwald.
ME: She IS cute as hell. This year she was on, like, every page of her law office's brochure.
JESS: That's just because she's the only one who works there who wasn't alive when a Roosevelt was president. Their old brochure looked like a print ad for Polident.
ME: She's also gorgeous. And she never farts. And she doesn't snort when she laughs. And she can wear a bikini without her stomach looking like a Shar-Pei puppy. And her hair always smells like the ocean. Holy shit, she IS the Molly Ringwald.
JESS: How do you know what her hair smells like?
ME: Shut up. So how about Alex?
JESS: Seriously? This is a man who TiVo's "Jeopardy" and celebrates Stephen Hawking's birthday.
ME: Anthony Michael Hall. . .got it. And Max?
JESS: Easy. He's the big goofy jock who tapes guys' butt cheeks together and parties with people named Stubby. He's totally the Emilio Esteves.
ME: So, how about you?
JESS (snorting): I'm Mr. Vernon. I'm the one who keeps you assholes from getting arrested.
ME: So, wait. . .if you're Vernon, Gina is Molly, Alex is Anthony Michael, and Max is Emilio, that means I'm either the criminal or the basket case!
JESS: I didn't make the rules. Hate the game, not the player.
ME: Oh, I'm not disagreeing with either one; just contemplating if I'm more of an Ally or a Judd.
JESS: Well, personally, I'd say you're less likely to spend the day sitting at your desk scraping dandruff on your paperwork and more apt to be running up and down the halls of your office screaming "I wanna be an Air Force Ranger!", so I'd go with Judd.
ME: Eat my shorts.
JESS: What was that?
ME: I said: Eat. My. Shorts.
JESS: You just bought yourself another Saturday.
ME: Oh, I'm crushed.
JESS: You just bought one more.
ME: Well, I'm free the Saturday after that. Beyond that, I'm gonna have to check my calendar.
JESS: Good, because it's going to be filled. Instead of prison, you'll come here. I'm got you for the rest of your natural-born life.
JESS: You just got yourself another one.
ME: Do you really think I give a shit?
JESS: That's another! Are you through?
ME: Not. Even. Close. BUD!
JESS: Oh my God, Jen, I love you so hard right now.
ME: This is why we're friends. . .demented and sad. . .but friends.
JESS: Shut up, Bitch, and go fix me a turkey pot pie!