my parents went to an Indigo Girls concert last night...
Which is the perfect segue to the screen below..."Welcome Ladies Skerrett" would welcome me at every upscale hotel if I had lesbian moms. My next door neighbors, Margi, Maureen, and Katherine, used to have to attend Lillith Fair with our moms, and we told all the lesbians around us that we were a blended family. We didn't know how else to describe the five of us being there, or when our moms would break into song in unison to "Angel" by Sarah MacLachlan.But my dad went with my mom to this specifically-Indigo Girls concert last night, and they were telling me all about the different political tees that they saw there at dinner tonight. My mom said, "You know, there weren't many pro-Bush slogans we saw" and I started to say something about I'm sure you could find some Indigo Girls fans who liked bush, but then felt inappropriate. But Rog totally picked up on it, and he goes, "Yeah there were some t-shirts that said 'girls play here' written across the chest!" Then he went into describing the different hand signals that were tossed in the air (i.e. cowabunga/hang ten, devil horns/rock out, peace sign--I was getting really confused at this point trying to explain why these signs were in the air--) and said he thought people were making gang signs. So I gave him the finger and I said, "This one will always mean 'fuck you' Dad," and we all laughed and ate our tilapia.
When Maura and I neglected to plan Amsterdam & Queen's Day to the point of finding lodging, we discovered everything was booked up, except for this $$ suite in the Hague. So we thought of our parents, urging us to use them in any emergency...and this was an emergency! We wanted to get high, and even better if we could jump on hotel beds! This display was on our screen when we checked in, the beginning of our wifedom. We joined accounts two days later.
We of course, had to keep up on trash rags. If you can see, and I know you're looking, this was about Britney's preggers nightmare! Or as The Enquirer called it, a "CRISIS!" This inane information made me feel at home, even while sunning on the lawn at Stanstead Airport, Maura's favorite place to meet Will Doran.
TOURIST: [takes first pic unknowingly] Are you ready? Smile! [attempts to take pic, shutter clicks three times]
TOURIST: Did I do it? Did it take?
US: Yeah, I think so! Thanks!
TOURIST: Wuhl, it's not coming up on the screen. Lemme take one more for good measure!
US: [silent fuming masked by grinning] Great!
...three pictures later...this is only one of the salvageable ones, us mid-pose, not knowing this retard was taking our pictures. Thanks, we'll use timers or each other from now on, you idiot.
Five bucks if you can guess this restaurant in Montmartre, and yes, we did take a picture. But we felt dumb the whole time, not at all very fabulous, or destined.
Travel Scrabble at the villa! Posted upside-down so you can give yourself a neck cramp trying to read all the words, or practice your upside-down reading skills. Okay, really, I just don't know how to flip pics.
A smorgasboard of all your sexual needs...that's right: piss, sandwich, fist, the erotic list goes on! Thank goodness for commas or that would truly be a nightmare. But I guess like, if you're into that, that's cool.
NO waffles, jerks! Keep'em outside the store! Taco Salads and ice cream cones welcome.
posted by SES @ 7:57 PM
4 Comments:
Remember how sore we were after those sandwiches and fistings
i love sandwichfistanal. reminds me of the signs at cafes saying "pain, sandwiches..." and I thought, I'd LOVE a pain sandwich!
Your parents went to see the Indigo girls? I didn't know your parents were lesbians! Awesome! Does Rog look like Melissa Ethridge? I've never seen him...so I guess it's possible. I picked Melissa Ethridge because I think it's a flat-out lie that any lesbian looks like Portia De Rossi or whatever the hell her name is. She may munch box, but I'm almost positive that she's a robot or an alien. No woman that good looking wouldn't want a good dicking.
Where was I going with this? I don't remember...nor do I think I ever knew.
Whatever. Bye.
No because that was me.
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