The other day I got a call from a woman I did not know. Usually I don’t get calls from anyone except people that have loaned me money or had sex with me at some point. So this person immediately made me nervous because at least when other people call me I already know what they want. This woman is very chipper and she knows my name. She asks for me with the same anticipation that a 5 year old waiting for Christmas morning has. My first thought was “did I forget to pay my master card?” I though about telling her that the person she was looking for had been eaten alive in a tragic accident. You know. . . she was getting out of the bath and. . .um slipped on some spilt massage oil because she. . .uh was not paying attention. . . and then she was eaten by a. . . um wild gorilla, yup a man eating gorilla that lives on the peninsula, was in town for a conference and came running through the house and ate her head spitting out the hair as he jumped out the back window. “Hello?” ever so loudly and politely the egger little voice on the other end of my phone brought me back from my scheming and I admitted that I was indeed the person she was looking for.
I braced myself for some sales pitch or scolding. “Great!” She exclaimed so loudly I was thrown to Idaho from the noise (I’m still walking back). Did I win the lottery? Did this woman? What the hell was she so happy about? You can ask my friends, getting a hold of me can be a bit challenging but we don’t need to shit our pants about it. I was once as happy as this woman sounded, right after my ex-boyfriend proposed to me. Her having the same reaction to our phone conversation (all 10 words of it) seemed a bit overzealous.
Moving right along she says “my name is J****, and I am a Friend of A*****’s! I am planning her bachelorette party! It is on such-and-such a date! Are you planning on coming!?!” Now I have to admit that the idea of running around with a bunch of women who need to get out more, sucking on penis shaped lollypops, and making PG-13 jokes about male strippers is pretty much right up there with freezing warts off my feet while being forced to watch “Family Matters” reruns; but A***** has been my friend since we were 12; so I try not to sound like someone has just kicked me in the crotch so hard my intestines are bubbling out of my throat while I say “OF COURSE!” in an terrible imitation of J****’s happy-fun-time voice.
She excitedly delves into the details. We are going to Oregon and the hotel will cost this much and the white water rafting trip. . . Wait. Hold on just one second. We are going White Water Rafting? I interrupt Mrs. Sunshine long enough to clarify that we are not heading off on some sad, pathetic attempt at reliving the wild college party days that ½ of the attendees never had the stomach for to begin with. She said that we could go out for drinks afterward but nothing drastic. All of the sudden I realized why I have been friends with A***** for so long. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is an idiot. That forced fun time can actually end up being fun. I’m looking forward to a great day on the river and a few cold ones to finish off the day. I think this is going to be so much fun that you might even convince me to try one of those Dick-pops, but only after I have had a beer.
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1 comment:
I think that happens with every single bachelorette party that a stranger plans for a girl you know. But congrats to A***** for having a real party!
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