JESS: Were the boys psyched to get back to school?
ME: God, yes! Especially J. That kid is so hyper-social that being away from his friends for two weeks induces some pretty epic PTSD.
JESS: You're lucky!
ME: Yeah, but every day when I pick him up from day care he has to give everyone a dramatic farewell like he's being deployed to Iraq. He bitches loud enough about having to go to day care, then he doesn't want to leave when I show up. . . .and he's ten! What can possibly transpire between these kids to forge this type of Stockholm Syndrome douchebaggery?
JESS: At least he likes school! Nicky's been moping around so much this week it's like living with Leonard Cohen. It's third grade, for Christ's sake, not Gitmo.
ME: So how are YOU doing back at school?
JESS: I think I made a colossal mistake. I feel like I'm frantically shuttling the kids to school and day care so I can sit in a lecture hall having no freaking clue what's going on for four hours. What kind of person leaves her kids in day care to go back to school at 40?
ME: Umm. . .me.
JESS: But you're a terrible excuse for a mother; I at least have mad parenting skillz, yo.
ME: Says the woman who called her son a dick last week.
JESS: I did not call him a dick! I said that eating the leftover Thai food and blaming it on his brother was a dick move.
ME: Oh, well, that makes it totally OK.
JESS: Screw you, Casey Anthony. So, speaking of clueless parents, how're Gina and Alex doing? Is Milo sleeping through the night yet?
ME: Finally. Gina's been stumbling around looking like Ke$ha, and not in the "pedicure on our toes-toes, boys blowin' up our phones-phones" kind of way. Sleep deprivation is whack, and she started back at work this week too.
JESS: Is that guy at her office still giving her a hard time? The British dude?
ME: The one who filled in during her maternity leave? Yeah, he's totally trying to snake her job. And he's not British; he's from Montana. He was just working at the London office for a while.
JESS: I thought Gina said he had an annoying accent.
ME: He does. One of those "Madonna-dating-the-limey-dude-so-now-she-thinks-she's-Kate-Middleton" accents. Totally fake.
JESS: I don't even know him and I want to stab him in the face.
ME: Ooh! Wait! It gets better. He keeps sending memos around the office asking for a "favour" and commenting on client "behaviours", sticking his "u" in everywhere like it's Tiger Wood's dick.
JESS: Well, if he's been living in England. . .
ME: Pfft! Do you know how long that guy was in England? Three months. Apparently that makes him Jude Law.
JESS: You've gotta be kidding me. I lived in England for four years, you don't see me "U-ing" it all up in here!
ME: That's because I would throw rocks at your face if you did. Many, many pointy rocks.
JESS: Totally justified. There's not a court in the land that would convict you for that shit.
ME: God, yes! Especially J. That kid is so hyper-social that being away from his friends for two weeks induces some pretty epic PTSD.
JESS: You're lucky!
ME: Yeah, but every day when I pick him up from day care he has to give everyone a dramatic farewell like he's being deployed to Iraq. He bitches loud enough about having to go to day care, then he doesn't want to leave when I show up. . . .and he's ten! What can possibly transpire between these kids to forge this type of Stockholm Syndrome douchebaggery?
JESS: At least he likes school! Nicky's been moping around so much this week it's like living with Leonard Cohen. It's third grade, for Christ's sake, not Gitmo.
ME: So how are YOU doing back at school?
JESS: I think I made a colossal mistake. I feel like I'm frantically shuttling the kids to school and day care so I can sit in a lecture hall having no freaking clue what's going on for four hours. What kind of person leaves her kids in day care to go back to school at 40?
ME: Umm. . .me.
JESS: But you're a terrible excuse for a mother; I at least have mad parenting skillz, yo.
ME: Says the woman who called her son a dick last week.
JESS: I did not call him a dick! I said that eating the leftover Thai food and blaming it on his brother was a dick move.
ME: Oh, well, that makes it totally OK.
JESS: Screw you, Casey Anthony. So, speaking of clueless parents, how're Gina and Alex doing? Is Milo sleeping through the night yet?
ME: Finally. Gina's been stumbling around looking like Ke$ha, and not in the "pedicure on our toes-toes, boys blowin' up our phones-phones" kind of way. Sleep deprivation is whack, and she started back at work this week too.
JESS: Is that guy at her office still giving her a hard time? The British dude?
ME: The one who filled in during her maternity leave? Yeah, he's totally trying to snake her job. And he's not British; he's from Montana. He was just working at the London office for a while.
JESS: I thought Gina said he had an annoying accent.
ME: He does. One of those "Madonna-dating-the-limey-dude-so-now-she-thinks-she's-Kate-Middleton" accents. Totally fake.
JESS: I don't even know him and I want to stab him in the face.
ME: Ooh! Wait! It gets better. He keeps sending memos around the office asking for a "favour" and commenting on client "behaviours", sticking his "u" in everywhere like it's Tiger Wood's dick.
JESS: Well, if he's been living in England. . .
ME: Pfft! Do you know how long that guy was in England? Three months. Apparently that makes him Jude Law.
JESS: You've gotta be kidding me. I lived in England for four years, you don't see me "U-ing" it all up in here!
ME: That's because I would throw rocks at your face if you did. Many, many pointy rocks.
JESS: Totally justified. There's not a court in the land that would convict you for that shit.
ME: Word.
JESS: So, have you heard from Dylan lately?
ME: Yeah, I talked to him last night. His mom passed away on Sunday.
JESS: Damn. I'm sorry. You're never really ready for that.
ME: Yeah, but at least she was at home, surrounded by her family. That's how I want to go out.
JESS: Pfft! Bitch, please. You'd never do something that understated. I envision your death with a lot more theatrical gasping and moaning.
ME: At this rate, the ONLY gasping and moaning I'll be doing is when I Meet Joe Black.
JESS: No chance of Dylan moving back?
ME: No. He's started seeing someone in North Carolina too.
JESS: Wait, WHAT!?!? Oh, Jeez, Jen. . .I'm sorry.
ME: No! It's cool. I actually picked her out.
JESS: I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I seem to have some crazy stuck in my ear.
ME: He told me he ran into an old girlfriend from college and he started having some "feelings" for her and that freaked him out because he's still in love with me, and blah, blah, blah... But let's face it: she's there and I'm 3000 miles away. If he has feelings for her, it's only a matter of time before he acts on them. So, I told him to go for it. She sounds cool, and his daughter Katie really likes her. . .I just want him to be happy.
JESS: Damn! Listen to you being all grown up and shit.
ME: Yeah. Sometimes being a grown up really blows donkeys.
JESS: True 'dat. But buck up, my Brave Little Toaster; you'll find someone else.
ME: . . .
JESS: Oh my God, you already HAVE, haven't you!?!?
ME: . . .
JESS: Ho. Ly. Crap. Who is it? Is it Hot Gym Guy? Dear Lord, tell me it's Hot Gym Guy.
ME: Oh, Sweetie, no. Hot Gym Guy is pretty to look at but he's 27 years old and lives in an apartment with three other Hot Gym Guys. He's definitely not "this one goes out to the one I love" material. He's more like, a "simple prop to occupy my time".
JESS: Nicely done, Mary Kay LaTourneau. So, who IS the guy? Have you gone out yet?
ME: No. He works at the store near my house. Suffice to say I've made so many random grocery runs this week that they probably think that I'm a crazed bulimic or hoarding for Doomsday.
JESS: Have you at least talked to him?
ME: Yeah, every day. I finally formally introduced myself last week and he said "Good. Now that I know your name I don't have to just think of you as 'the girl with the beautiful smile'."
JESS: OK, that's a little too cheesy and rom-com even for me. And you know I love that Katherine Heigl shit.
ME: Yeah, ordinarily that kind of talk triggers my gag reflex but when it's delivered by someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Ryan Gosling then all is forgiven.
JESS: Ryan. . .Gosling? As in "Crazy, Stupid Love", "The Notebook", and my future Baby Daddy Ryan Gosling?
ME: The one and only. Picture a taller Ryan with a beard and dimples and you'll have a pretty accurate visual.
JESS: I hate you so hard right now. Have you asked him out?
ME: Yeah, right! Umm, "Hello, Ryan. I know you're tall and gorgeous and have a smile that makes unicorns weep rainbows, but how would you like to go out with a 42 year old woman who has two kids, shitty cholesterol, and a student loan?"
JESS: Well, when you put it like that, how could he say no?
ME: I'm just worried that I'll ask, he'll say he has a girlfriend and then things will be. . .weird. I can't find another grocery store. Their kale and carrot salad is my raison d'etre.
JESS: Can you find out if he has a girlfriend? Isn't there someone at the store who can do a little recon?
ME: I've got Shelley in the bakery doing some information gathering, but unfortunately Ryan is one of those guys who doesn't talk about his personal life. Boo.
JESS: Hmmm. . .well, can you pass him a note in study hall? "Dear Ryan. Will you go with me? Check yes or no."
ME: Bite me.
JESS: Seriously, Jen. Time to man up. Just go in there, ask him out for coffee, and see what happens. You need to grow a pair, my friend.
ME: You are, quite literally, the third person this week who has suggested that I grow testicles, I shit you not.
JESS: Huh. . .who were the other two?
ME: Curtis and Misty.
JESS: I am proud that you are continuing to surround yourself with quality people.
ME: Indeed.
JESS: I thought of you on Monday. Did you take the day off to celebrate the holy holiday?
ME: You mean Jeremy Renner's birthday? No. I am saddened and shamed to admit that I totally forgot about it until one of my readers, Megan, reminded me.
JESS: Shut. Up. And you call yourself a stalker?
ME: I know, I know. I made myself sit down and watch "The Hurt Locker" in atonement.
JESS: Good girl.
ME: I love that you support my Renner obsession. My friend Brandon can't understand why Sally and I are so obsessed with him. He seriously asked "What does Jeremy Renner have that I don't?" I told him, "Forty million dollars and Scarlett Johanssen's phone number."
JESS: Oh, SNAP! ((crashing sound in background)) Shit. . .that can't be good. I'd better go and assess the property damage.
ME: Good luck with that.
JESS: OK, before I go, you have homework. By the end of this week you WILL ask "Ryan" out. Or at least get his last name so I can Facebook-stalk him. Deal?
ME: Deal.
JESS: And look at it this way, if he says no and you wind up dying alone with thirty cats then it's really no different from where your life is headed anyway.
ME: I hate your face.
JESS: I love you too.
15 comments:
I grew a pair once. This cute guy I worked with flirted with me all the time. He worked in another division, but would come by all the time or catch me outside on break.
So I asked him to a movie. He said. "Yeah. That would be great. Oh, wait... you do know I'm married, right?"
The Fuck?
So we stayed friends but I mocked him mercilessly for the next year and a half for being a man-whore, until he finally left his job and wife because one of his girlfriends got knocked up.
Truth.
As long as you make it funny, it won't be awkward.
This made me laugh my ass off in the middle of Starbucks. God bless you. :)
Easy fix: Just be yourself (and say something wonderful and snarky and terrible and sarcastic). If he laughs, ask him out. If he looks offended/condused/concerned he might just make better eye candy than dating material.
Good call, L. Anyone who doesn't pass the snark test is instantly dead to me.
For the record, I didn't tell you to grow a pair . . . I told you to put your big girl panties on. TOTALLY different!! :p
Be the ball, Jen. Be the ball. Nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh.
1) what happened to Nathan Fillion? Is he just yesterday's news?
2) Nathan and Ryan are both Canadian and grew up spelling things with "u"s
3) http://youtu.be/fP_FT-0yS0Y
(jazz hands over your head Jen) Let the powers of Jeremy Renner's mojo coupled with diva fierceness bless you and give you the intestinal fortitude to go to Ryan and ask him out or............. your bakery hook up comes with good intel. Baby steps Jen Baby steps.
I'm pretty sure Betty White is internet quoted about the whole "grow some balls thing in fact Here it is and because she's a meme, it's true. And seeing as how you already have a lady garden, you're just fine
I like the line from Zombieland - "Time to nut up or shut up!" Same thing, but with a bit more panache. Go get 'em tiger!
Ask the new guy if he is married or otherwise attached. If he's not, then just ask him out. Worst case, he'll say he's not interested and you'll be momentarily embarrassed. You might feel a bit uncomfortable next time you see him at the store, but that's it. You'll survive.
Dylan doesn't like being on his own, does he? Blah blah blah indeed.
Ok. I will get on the band wagon. Man up Nancy Boy! Grow a pair and ask. Worst case scenario you still have a beautiful smile.
@ Von of course Dylan doesn't like being on his own... he is a man, they are simple creatures and really are only good, when you get right down to it... at working the remote. :D
@ Jen you did that on purpose right... you are so sly... you set him up with someone from NORTH CAROLINA... holy hell vanilla missionary sex for the rest of his life.
LOL
Got myself all psyched up to ask him out last night. Picked the perfect outfit, hair was looking fly, strutted in at 6:10. . .and found out he got off work at 6:00. For schizzle, karma?
Too much thought into it. Karma she's an angry bitch
So... I don't even know anything about this Montana Man, but I want to strap him to the back of my car like a pair of trucker testicles and go over some bumps. I also want to throw piranhas at him... Mutant piranha. That have adapted to living out of water.
I blame Madonna for this bullshit wanna be Brits.
Hugs!
Valerie
I subscribe to the "my balls are so big I have to wear them on my chest" school of thinking. So yours are already there and bigger than mine girl.
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