THE STATE OF MY HOUSEHOLD: PARTY CENTRAL
There were so many boys in my house Saturday afternoon, I should have sold tickets to single girls everywhere. They drank roughly 4 cases of beer and when I woke Sunday morning, every single one of those now empty beer cans was still in my house. The photographic proof that they had tons of fun:
K and I were out on the town Friday night like a normal couple without completely opposite schedules enjoying each others company and a cocktail or two, when who walked by but my OB/GYN’s medical assistant. That is twice in 1 month I’ve seen her in public and I’m not sure if I should make us Facebook friends, therefore solidifying her (and my vagina) as my BFF forever, or get a new doctor. The jury is out.
My friend Elisa and I were hanging out at K’s bar last night while he was slinging drinks. I ordered a salad to accompany my Blue Moon and K raised an eyebrow.
“Vegetables? I’m very proud of you.”
“Well, I already had a big mac and large fries today– trying to counter that. But I haven’t had a single piece of salami!”
Elisa pipped in, “I hate salami.” I gasped in pure horror, suddenly questioning our friendship.
“I had this swim instructor as a kid who had HORRIBLE salami breath and he was trying to help me swim and all the parents were watching and I couldn’t breathe because his breath smelt so horribly like salami and everyone thought I was a bad swimmer and it was so embarrassing. So I don’t eat salami.”
Fair, Elisa. That’s fair. And she’s Italian, so you know that salami breath had to be real bad. The poor girl.