Part Two.

Beebie lost her election. But she's really ok with it. She wants to join the school newspaper staff instead. Such resilience.

Lemme remember where I left off - oh yeah, the dentist. My crown seems to have leveled itself and I'm relieved. And I didn't have to take a Xannie like last time. Good thing I didn't, too, because later that evening, Rip called me up to see if we wanted to come hang with him and his Brazilian client Roberto. I didn't want him to think i was a dork for having my pajamas on when he called, so I didn't tell him. Instead I said, Sure, we'll be right over! R and I left the house after 9pm for the first time in I couldn't even tell you how long.

I'll have to ask Rip if I can take and post pics of his basement, called The Man Cave. It is truly nothing short of SPECTACULAR. Seriously. Anyway, we went over and threw darts and shot pool and drank beer, and then Rip showed us these Cuban cigars that Roberto had brought him.

Now, I have never smoked a cigarette in my life. I think smoking is gross, I hate how it smells, it's just nasty.

However.

There's a certain kind of sweet rebellious coolness in the fact that A) this is something no one would believe I would ever do in a million years and I know R doesn't think I'll do it B) we're really not supposed to have these things in the first place. And breakin' the law? That's just HOT. Hell, if you're gonna smoke a cigar, smoke the Cadillac of cigars. These were no Swisher Sweets, my friends. No sir. These were top fuckin quality. Rip doesn't mess around.

So my husband, our buddy Rip and our new Brazilian amigo Roberto and I drank a whole lotta Blue Moon from the Kegerator(I don't know exactly how much because my mug was never less than half-full) and smoked Cubans on Rip's back porch. And it was AWESOME. I totally can't wait to smoke another one.

I don't know if it was the taste of the cigar or the delicious, intoxicating taste of willful defiance (fuck the establishment! stick it to the man!), but it was the most fun I've had in a long ass time. Mostly because R was having so much fun too. Rip said it was the most animated he'd ever seen R, and that's absolutely true. That was the most either one of us had had to drink in a while.

Oh, and I should also tell you what the topic of conversation was. I need to come up with a name for Princeton's mom. Here's why.

Princeton's mom had called me earlier that afternoon. Beeb saw the name on Caller ID and of course assumed the phone was for her. No, Princeton's mom wanted to talk to Me.

Instant Diarrhea Moment - Oh my God, she's calling to tell me my 11-year-old daughter's a tramp and she needs to stay the hell away from her boy.

I don't know why my mind always instantly envisions worst case scenarios like that. It should be a psychic superpower, like being able to see the future or something, but it's more of a pain in the ass.

No, she was calling to thank us for coming to the Barbecue and to say she was sorry she didn't really have time to sit and chat with me (because she was, y'know, hosting a party for twenty-five people). I hadn't thought anything of it, really, I was perfectly happy to talk to everybody there. I talked for a long time to a really nice lady who was a school librarian. I told her about my library days and about the tunnels under the library, leaving out the Shatner part, of course.

Anyway, Princeton's mom and I got to talking about tattoos and piercings (yes, I told her about mine, can ya believe??) because she's new to the area and I offered to take her to a good tattoo/piercing place in STL if she ever wanted to get another one. I'm anxious to get another one (or two) myself. She said that would be cool, she had about four she wanted to get. Cool.

I don't remember how we got onto the subject, but she mentioned that her sister was in an "alternative marriage." She had talked a bit about her sister and her sister's Significant Other at the Barbecue and I kinda assumed she meant something like that, alternative marriage, whatever. She said she was nervous at the time about bringing that up at the Barbecue, not knowing anything about me or what kind of family we were.

I didn't want to put you in a spot where you had to have a conversation you weren't prepared to have, she said.

I tried not to laugh. Girrrrrl, I took my kid to see Indigo Girls for cryin out loud. My kid told her PSR class to suck it on Gay People are Evil Day. I am more than cool with that topic, sister.

And I might add that that story went over quite well as I told it to the intoxicated guests of Rip's Man Cave while puffing all sexy-like on a kickass cigar. Of course I told it more like this to them:

So Princeton's mom, who is stunningly gorgeous and has a beautiful sultry voice, called and we talked for about an hour, yadda yadda yadda, I have a date to Pridefest next year!

She called me again yesterday because Princeton left his History book at school and they needed it for a study guide they had for homework. Princeton's mom and I tried to locate an online version of the book, to no avail, and I have to tell you, I got a little intimidated by her. She's cool and I like her and all, but something in my head is whispering Watch out, she's weird. Stay tuned.

Ok, I covered the election, the Cubans, my Pridefest 2009 date, and now we're caught up to yesterday. Yesterday's weird experience was in the J. Jill fitting room.

I was trying on a few things - Oh, and here's a PSA, there's an additional 25% off of Sale items right now - and I could hear the woman in the room next to me talking.

"Y'know, I like this and I think it looks nice... I don't have anything like it... I love the color, I'm pretty sure I have shoes that would match... I would have to get new undergarments, though, but that's not the end of the world...I don't know, though...I'm not sure..."

It wasn't like listening to one half of a phone conversation, and how much sense would that make anyway, talking to someone who can't see what the hell you're waffling about. I opened my door a crack to see if maybe there was a salesperson listening to her. There wasn't.

Then I sat on the little stool by my mirror and tried to peek and see if there was more than one pair of feet in there. Nope. Girlfriend is talking out loud to herself. Not like whispering to herself, no, she was talking as if someone was there. At a normal conversational volume.

And then she started talking to Jesus. Not like an exasperated sigh followed by Oh, Sweet Jeeeeezus like the rest of us. No. Actually speaking with Jesus.

"Help me, dear Jesus...I need your wisdom...I can't decide if I should buy this or not..."

Ok, I'm all for praying for important stuff, like asking God for strength so that I don't strangle my father in law when he pisses me off or for my dishes to wash themselves, but dontcha think Jesus would MUCH rather you not buy anything and give the money to starving orphans or something? What the FUCK??? Seriously!

So that was the highlight of yesterday. Today's already been interesting and it's only 9:30. I had to drive Beebie to school at 7am because yesterday was school spirit Crazy Hair Day and she put a bunch of green and blue hair paint in her hair. Last night she took a shower and I saw from across the room that she didn't get it all out, so told her to wash it again, and she said she was too tiiiiiired, she'd just do it in the morrrrrrning...

Right.

Her alarm didn't go off. She came downstairs dressed in my Kurt Warner jersey (today's Team Jersey Day) with patches of the green and blue shit still in her hair.

Beeb, you didn't get the junk out of your hair, go take a shower.

But I CAAAAAN'T!!! I don't have TIIIIIIME now!!!!

Well, did you try brushing it to get it out?

Um, YEAH. And it didn't work. I don't CARE, Mom!! It's FINE!!

Beeb, everyone's going to make fun of you - they're going to think you didn't wash your hair.

Well, OBVIOUSLY I DID because there's WAY less than there was YESTERDAY!

(Dear Jesus, please help me not kill this child.)

Beeb, there is NO way in HELL I am letting you go to school with that crap in your hair! You look ridiculous and people are going think you don't know how to wash your hair well enough. I will DRIVE you myself. Now go get in the shower.

FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!

Hey, I'm trying to be NICE to you!

I helped her scrub the shit out of her hair and, still in my pajamas, I dropped her ass off at school.

Ummm... you're WELCOME!!!