Ned–and right there’s my problem: Ned.
Ned has been out of town a lot lately, with work and family things. “I thought of asking if Nancy could stay with you, but I realize you’re at cat capacity,” he said, and why he thinks 11 cats counts as “capacity” is beyond me.
Vagabond Ned was going to grace his own town with his presence for a one-night-only special appearance Friday, and he wondered if I’d like to have dinner.
“Can we go to the Thai place?” I asked, because ket-no. Keto schmeto. If I see one more piece of food that doesn’t have carbs in it, I’m gonna drive myself to the nearest wheat field and just commence chewing.
Ned agreed, which means he must have been desperate because he hates the Thai place, as apparently they don’t serve good beer. This is a thing I’d never notice, but I’m not old Hoppy Ned. Old barley boyfriend, fmr.
So off we went, and I am delighted to tell you that Ned got pinot noir and I ordered the Kung Pao chicken, which isn’t even Taiwanese (heeeee) but Chinese, and HOOOO CARE because the point is it comes with rice.
I was Condoleezza Rice, is who I was. I was Carbra Streisand. I had it all over me, like I was a toddler. I was mashing it on my hands, it was in my hair. I felt magnificent. Reuniting with rice. That’s nice.
While I was carb loading, I managed to bring up the royal wedding, with which I am obsessed. “It’s only a week away!” I said, wondering if the Thai place also had a bread basket and maybe an oatmeal cart or tortilla tray.
Ned has always insisted that Kate Middleton is the most beautiful woman in the world, but that is where his interest in the royals begins and ends.
“What I want to see is the Kate Middleton sex tape. When’s THAT thing gonna come out?” he asked, over his plate of Thai vegetables and a side salad of vegetables. “Could I get one grain of whole-wheat brown rice?” he’d requested.
“I imagine, Ned, that there are all kinds of Kate Middleton lookalike pornographic films available,” I said from under my I Heart Rice sash I’d fashioned from the pages of my now-useless keto book. “I mean, surely you’ve looked for them.”
Ned put down his forkful of kale.
“I’m disappointed in myself that I’ve never thought to look for that,” he said.
I got out my phone. In general, I don’t look at pornography, because I figure that’s a job for the men of America, but in keeping with my general fascination with the absurd, I do occasionally look up ridiculous themes like Star Wars and My Little Pony porn. Am I the only person here who knows you can find anything–ANYTHING–made dirty by some poor soul? And again, I am looking at you, Broken Men of America.
For example, sometimes I look up the search terms people use to find this blog. Behold the last one:
I feel like the fact that that’s even a thing is the work of men. I do.
Anyway, naturally, I got out my phone right there at the restaurant and Googled “Kate Middleton porn.” And lo and behold, the world and Photoshop and MEN had already addressed the world’s deep need to see Kate Middleton in the altogether.
“Here’s one!” I said brightly, showing Kate’s lovely face surrounded by man bits that had quite recently…lightened their loads, as it were.
“Oh my god–PUT THAT AWAY!” commanded Ned, who can be quite the fussy hen sometimes.
Do you think I put it away? Do you? When I was already on a rice high and thrilled to appall Ned?
There was Kate Middleton, pantsless, leaning on a desk. “In a million years, she’d never wear shoes like that,” I announced, thinking of her vast collection of tasteful nude pumps.
Also captured on film was Kate’s apparent visit to the United Nations, so diverse were the men she was…offering felicitations. Also, for as well-dressed as she normally is, you’d think she’d remember to at least wear, you know, something when greeting these fine gentleman, but she often limited herself to a few lacy bits of lingerie.
I held up for Ned images of Kate Middleton greeting dignitaries at her back door.
Kate Middleton the…orator.
And who knew Kate was such a fan of the ladies in waiting?
“Put that phone away this instant,” commanded Ned, his salad growing cold.
After dinner, we both had to go to Rite Aid for various reasons, and it become one of those Rite Aid visits where you begin browsing, and Ned found himself enamored of a hand-shaped retractable flyswatter, which he kept rapping me with from various distances.
There was also a retractable duster, which the more I think about it, the more likely I am to return and purchase. It’s actually a brilliant invention.
“Attention Rite Aid shoppers,” said the ceiling. “The store will close in three minutes.”
“Oh my god! We’ve shut down Rite Aid!” I said, thrilled. I can’t recall the last time I got a last call announcement. Ned and I high-fived our flyswatters.
“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here at Rite Aid,” Ned said.
After all that excitement, I barely got up in time to greet the cable guy, who came over Saturday to give me TV. “I haven’t had TV in years,” I told him, “but I’m getting it to watch the royal wedding next Saturday.”
Being a straight man with a blue-collar job, you can imagine the intensity of his interest in the royal wedding. This didn’t stop me from telling him all about my fascination with the royals, and how early I got up at age 15 to watch Diana’s wedding, and how I stayed up for her funeral, as well.
“You’re also getting faster internet as part of the package,” the indifferent cable guy told me. “In fact, why don’t you see if your internet is back up. It should be available now.”
And that is when I got my phone and clicked on Safari, the cable guy looking over my shoulder…
…where a photo of Kate Middleton, her wedding dress hiked up, enjoying adult moments with William and an enormous man of color, flashed on my phone.