My favorite form of punctuation is the ellipse. Because so...much can happen betwixt those three little dots...
Monday, August 21, 2006
What REALLY happened in Salt Lake City, Plimco?
The time has come to give the Trista meeting the attention it deserves.
I pull into SLC on a Thursday afternoon. I pick up a bouquet of flowers to put Miss Universe to shame. I have in my possession Map Quest's directions as well as Trista's. I choose to follow Trista's. Hell, she should know where she lives, right? Wrong. Left turn, right turn. Potato potato. She seems happy when I call her and tell her that I'm lost. She says this gives her more time to clean. I tell her for the 500th time that my tolerance for dirt is very high and not to go all crazy. I'm just Plimco. It's not like Arwen, Queen of Gondor is coming to visit.
I drive by her house twice. Eventually I park. There is much churning of dogs. We go out to her garden and pick a mutant squash to plop in the vegetable korma. She asks me how spicy I like it. I say as spicy as you can make it, toots. As spicy as you can make it.
Can I just say this? I've already told Trista this and I'm fairly certain that she's made peace with it, but... Ok. Here goes. Ahem.
Trista looks much more attractive in person.
It's true. I mean, I've been looking at pictures of her all year and it wasn't that I thought she was ugly or anything based on that, but... Dang. In person? She's beautiful. It's like, when she gets her photograph taken her face contorts into this Victorian countenance. Back in the day when people were afraid to open their mouths because they didn't want flash powder to get in and they had to sit there forever and weren't entirely convinced that photo boxes didn't steal their soul, their faces would be this very set, very uncertain sort of I-am-aware-that-I-am-being-photographed face. Yeah. That's what Trista does. It's cute. But when you see her in person? You're overcome with this...what is it? It's almost a sense of deception. A sort of, hey! You're way hotter than you pretend to be! Or something...
I'm just digging myself into a hole here, aren't I? Moving on...
Julia woke up from a nap shortly after my arrival and...this child. This child is... She's just... Well. Have you ever been around somebody famous? Or, have you ever been in the same room with somebody and that somebody just exudes this energy and joy such that just to be in the same room with them is a privilege? It's like that. Being around Julia is like being in the presence of greatness. Such a happy sprout she is. She makes laughing seem like such an attractive past time, one cannot help but participate.
I messed up though. Back when Trista was on her breast feeding jag, she wrote about how saliva freaks her out. What did I go and do when she pulls out the mint chutney? I immediately stick my finger in it to taste it. Stupid Plimco! Stupid stupid Plimco! I knew I would mess that one up. I'm all about sticking my fingers in stuff where they don't belong. I told her I did it. She said she liked me enough not to mind, but... I didn't see her use any chutney on her samosas... And it's her favorite condiment! The shame...
Ok. This is hilarious. Trista gives Julia some of the Indian food she has prepared on her little tray on her high chair, right? I remark, Wow. She likes Indian food? Trista says, "Oh yes. She loves it." Julia takes a bite...and immediately starts SCREEEEEEEEAMING. Not crying, but more like, WHAT-THE-FUCK-HAVE-YOU-DONE-TO-MY-MOUTH? screams. Trista and I look at Julia... We look at one another.... Back to Julia... "Well, she likes it in the restaurant." Trista then gives Julia some turkey. Ha!
Then the power went out.
Yes. It's true. The electricity between us sitting down to a meal together was so intense, we made the power go out. It was kind of nice. We both acknowledged the power outage. Trista checked to see if we'd blown a fuse or if it was the whole house, then we continued our eating and talking in the dim. When the lights came back on, again I was stunned at how beautiful she is in person...
We retired to her couch after dinner where Trista put Julia in her swing and then proceeded to question me about my scaring threesome with a married couple experience. Kristin got home from dinner with friends in the middle of this conversation. Hi. I'm a strange person from the Internet who will be spending the night in your house this evening. Would you like to hear about how I had a threesome with a married couple? Smooth.
Trista let me read some of her pirate poems and then we went to bed. Separately. I had the bedroom in the basement. It's dark. I'm in a strange bed in a strange place surrounded by scary dolls (I'll let Trista explain the scary dolls to you). I then start hearing noises. Ok. These noises are very creaky and very rhythmical. Emphatic. I'm like, great. They are totally getting it on up there without me. CREEEEAK-ah! CREEEEEAK-ah! CREEEEAK-ah! over and over and over. I'm tormented by images of passion. Half an hour of this I think, there is no way that they could keep up this perfection of rhythm for so long! They are not robots! Then I realize, THE SWING! Do they let Julia sleep in her swing? All night? Yes. Yes they do. One leg must have been a tad shorter than the others. The swing was directly on the floor above me. CREEEEAK-ah! CREEEAK-ah! CREEEAK-ah! All. Night. Long.
Thank goodness they didn't ask me how I slept in the morning.
I find out later that Kristin told Trista that she was glad that she didn't want to have a threesome with me because she thought I was 19 at the most and has this thing where she can't have sex with teenagers.
Drat.
19?! Come on! That's of age. It was the pigtails, Kristin! I swear it was the pigtails!
It's probably for the best anyhow...
And that's what REALLY happened in Salt Lake City.
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aw... I'm blushing here!
You forgot to tell everyone about the nude bowling, though...
Oh, I'm so sorry about the sleep. Other guests have said that the creaking is very hypnotic and relaxing.
Oh, and I DID TOO eat Mint chutney with my samosas. You were just too smitten with my beauty to notice.
Silly me. How could I forget the nude bowling?
Geez, Trista. SOME stuff can remain just between you and me, you know. Do we have to tell them EVERYTHING?
Don't fear the scary dolls...remember my lessons.
And a threesome with a married couple...um....I remember having dinner with you and no mention of this was brought up nor offered. Drat!
see, Itchy, you need to know the right questions to ask...
I'm seeing that. Though I'd may have been a bit presumptuous on my part to say "So Plimco. You look awfully nice tonight. Would you like to have a threesome with my husband and I?" Hmmm...I'll save that for our next get together.
Alright people. What the hell is going on here?
I DON'T MAKE IT A PRACTICE TO HAVE THREESOMES WITH MARRIED COUPLES!!!
Kapish?
Gracious.
What do you take me for?
This is when I admit to fantacizing about making out with somebody's wife earlier today...and when I tell you that I'm going to have coffee with somebody else's wife this afternoon who I played her lover on stage... and the married couple coming to spend the night on their inflate-a-bed at my house tomorrow night...
AAAAAAGGGGH! What the hell is wrong with me? All the action in all the wrong places...
Some day I'll meet a real person who is a person and just likes me and does not throw their spouse into the mix.
And I used the word "scaring". Trista was questioning me about a SCARING as in a scar, threesome with a married couple experience...
Sheesh.
I believe the correct spelling of the word is scarring, dear.
Yes, Itchy, I can tell you for certain that Plimco does not make a habit of having threesomes with a married couple. Unfortunately.
But I am pretty sure that I'm the wife she fantasized about kissing. Because I'm so hot and all...
Potato potato.
And HA! You actually WEREN'T the wife I was fantasizing making out with... today. It was ANOTHER bloggers wife! Ha.
Although. I suppose there are many more hours in the day...
dear.
Oh look! I spelled fantasizing wrong too! Would you look at that. What are the chances?
There's something incredibly sexy about having one's grammar corrected on her own blog though. I must say...
It's OK Plimco. You can fantasize about kissing me. I understand. No need for pretenses any longer...
And fine...we can leave the hubby out of it. Just you. And me. How's that? Better? Yeah...that's better.