Therapy is code word in ‘our world’ for...lets get drinking!
I started my day strong…work done and Snuggie purchases for my children for Christmas completed. I was busy running errands…aka…looking at Uggs in Dillards and purses at T.J.Maxx, when I got a text from my friend…
…’Chicken Tortilla soup and therapy, my house…now.’
Me…’let me finish up and I’ll be there.’
12:30 I show up and already they are eating and drinking.
Me…”Shit…really? So early…OK…”
F4…”What did you think we were doing?”
Me…”Pour me one.”…as I grab a bowl of soup...
Chicken Tortilla Soup
4Tbs butter
1 sml onion chopped
1/2 C flour
1 Box chicken broth
1 lg garlic clove, chopped
2tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp Italian seasoning
1/2 tsp paprika
1/2 tsp cayenne
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
1-2 cans more chicken broth, for desired tickness
1 8oz can diced tomatoes
2 15 oz cans kidney beans
2 15 ox cans whole kernel corn, drained
2 cooked chicken breasts
In Med-lg sauce pan melt butter. Add onion, saute till tender. Stir in flour. Gradually add chicken broth. Combine the rest of the ingredients. Serve with tortilla chips, cheese, sour cream, cilantro, jalapenos and avacado…whoop, whoop!
I have no idea how it started, our conversation that is. We are not normal, or, maybe we are and ALL women are like this.
You tell me…
Somehow we get on the subject of waxing. No idea how.
Me…”Yeah, I’d love a reason to get a good wax.’
F1…”You don’t even have a lot of hair?”
We look at her like she is out of her mind. We spend a lot of time together, but NOT that much time.
F1…”I shaved my arms when I was 12. Someone told me it was going to grow back twice as thick. I was so scared!”
Me…”I’m not talking about my arms.”
We continue with body dysmorphia and self esteem issues.
Every woman has some form of body dysmorphia and esteem issues. I don’t care how beautiful and skinny they are.
F1…”I remember when I was a kid I was singing in my bedroom and my Dad came up stairs and said, ‘Is that a broken record?’… I have never wanted to sing in public since.”
Ok parents, the things we say to our children stay with them for a life time! Watch what you say. F1 has an amazing voice, but she hates to sing…because of what her dad said to her.
She goes on to talk about the lack of affection in her house growing up.
F1…”I did lick you on the face the other night though.”
Me…”Yeah, it was really nice, thanks for that.”
F4…”Did you know if you lick perfume and it’s sweet you are supposed to wear it?”
Us…”Are you supposed to lick the head of it?…”
…”and if it’s sweet are you supposed to put it all the way in?”
We start discussing oral sex…
yada, yada, yada…
Are you men mad that I typed out the ‘yada’s’ and didn’t go on?…Hahahhahahha!
Puking and drinking….
A couple months ago some of us had gone out. I was the driver. Several hours into the night F1 starts feeling her dinner…again. I tell her to go take care of it, she will feel better. She does and comes back.
F1…”I’m gonna drive, you can start drinking.”
My favorite bartender…”Porn Star Dirty?”
Me…”Uh Huh!”
I like my bartender…he knows it.
F5…”I used to puke all the time…made room for more alcohol.”
F1…”I’m glad I did puke that night. I blew 0 in the breathalyzer when the cop stopped me.”
F4’s Spouse shows up. It’s around 1:00 now.
…”What the fuck is going on?”
Us…”We are in therapy, we can drink at ours."
He starts taking off his pants as we look at him…
…”…you better have something on under there.”
F4S…”Chill out girls, I do.”
…”I have to go to therapy.’
F4S…”You all better be here at 4 when I get back. I wanna have fun too.”
Poor guy…we continue with our afternoon party before we head to pick up the children from school. Mine are with their Dad on Friday, so I don’t have anything to worry about.
F4 pours F1 and F5 some frosty beverages…slushy is probably a better adjective. F1 starts sticking her tongue in the glass and laps up her slush like a cat…I think she started purring, I’m not sure.
F4…”Watch out you might get a brain freeze.”
F5…”That’s what happened to me last night. I had Margaritas for dinner.”
F1…”I had Vodka and lemonade.”
Me…”I had Shiraz.”
F4…”I had pizza bites and mickey mouse chicken fingers…and loads of white wine.”
Then, much to my horror Stoffers Lasagna comes up and the schedules of our Children and carting them to and fro.
How much they would make if they got paid for doing their job…we came up with 180,000.
We start texting F2 and F3…they are not here yet…
…”What could be more important than therapy?…Where are they?”
F2 finely shows up, and files her bowl of Chicken Tortilla Soup and starts drinking.
There is a knock at the door…F3…”I’m here, the party can start now!”
Us…”You better get with the ‘program’…we’ve been here all day!”
Conversation starts back up and I tell them about a guy I know and what he said to me the other day…
…”If I could suck my own dick I’d never leave the house.”
me…”I believe you. I wonder how Dogs get anything done since all they do is lick their balls all day.”
He laughed and agreed.
F1…”I can lick my own nipples.”
So of course we all reach down and grab one of our breasts and stick our tongues out.
YUP! We can all do it.
One of them says…
…”I wonder…?" as she tries to fold herself in half…
…”Nope, I guess I should start taking yoga.”
F4…”He loves to pluck the hairs around my nipples.”
Yes, I am blogging this.
Women have to take care of things, it’s usually done privately though.
F1…”I don’t think I have nipple hair.” she looks down in her shirt...
Me…”Maybe ‘cause yours are Bionic?”
F1…”Ha!…you’re funny. I do have a bit in between my breasts though, I pluck them.”
It’s almost time for the bell to ring so the others head to the school (it’s up the street) to pick up all the little people sans mine.
F3 drives me to my place so I can pick up dinner for the ‘adults’. I head to the freezer and grab some frozen meat sauce, frozen zucchini bread and a crap load of fudge I made the other day and we head to the play ground. There are many more of us now…Mom’s that is.
We stand around and talk and joke. We sing Happy Birthday to F2’s son as he looks on mortified. I invite the attractive gay guys that we always see walking their dog to join us, they decline, their loss;)
The sun starts heading behind the peak and the temperature drops 10 degrees instantly…we move on down back to F4’s house.
It’s 5 now…officially.
The little people run downstairs to get their groove on. We all gather around the island and continue with our ‘event’…with many more now.
I had stopped taking notes by now. I have to take notes sometimes….and I even edited this blog!
Edit, Edit, Edit.
A new Mom shows up. I feel bad for her. She seems nice, but we are a handful. It’s always uncomfortable to be the ‘new’ chick.
F4’s and F2’s spouse are there now. I think they are in heaven.
In my drunkin’ state I text a friend and tell him he needs to come visit me. I kept it clean. But I can’t help it, this man is delicious…so….
...We start talking about sex again….
Me…”Whatever, I’m not getting emotionally attached to any one! Screw that drama.”
F3…”Kristin, you are such a ‘dude’.”
Me…”Ok."
I have many friends, many really good friends that I think if I showed up with blood all over me because I had killed someone they would help me hide the body. I never had a lot of time to spend with my friends though. Since I moved here my friends that I have met and made spend an absurd amount of time together.
Nothing is off limits.
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