I meant to write sooner today, but apparently MTV feels the need to distract me with retro episodes of The Real World, in particular The Real World Las Vegas from 2002.
"Trishelle's hawt." There's this poor awkward kid from the Midwest on Real World LV, and do you like how I've become so familiar with it that I abbreviate it, kind of like when people call it "Idol," which by the way makes me wretch. "Idol." Shut up. Anyway, the poor awkward kid says that 9,000 times an episode in TRWLV. "Trishelle's hawt."
And she was kinda hawt.
Back when this was a real show, Marvin and I would go around saying, "Trishelle's hawt" in that poor Midwestern kid's voice, and guess who needed lives so bad? Was it Marvin and me?
Also, I love how on this show they fight over use of the phone, because no one had cell phones. That was only 11 years ago. I'm telling you, styles are kind of the same, music is kind of the same, TV IS KIND OF THE SAME, but technology? All over the place. It's the only thing that seems dated from then: the lack of technology.
OHMYGOD none of this is why I GATHERED you here today, though. I GATHERED you here to update you on Ned's condition, and to tell you about Chris and Lilly's baby, and all I can think about is Trishelle and her cell phone.
What kind of bullshit name is Trishelle, anyway?
So Ned, who seems to have no opinion on Trishelle, but maybe that's because I've never asked him about his feelings on Trishelle, went to get his dang wisdom teeth out yesterday, and I took him. When you go to Ned's–and why are you at Ned's? What are you doing with Ned? I could kick your ass, you know, you giant tramp–you have to call him so he can let you in to the Fort Knox Gelatin that is his apartment. You'd think he was storing gold or Trishelle up there, so secure is that building. The point is, I was just gonna call and he was gonna come down and then we were gonna schlep to the dentist to remove his parts. But when I called, his "Hello?" sounded so scared and beleaguered that I just felt terrible for him.
Ned. Looking forward to having his teefs out since never.
When we got there, I planted myself in the lobby, where I'm delighted to tell you a sporting event was taking place on the lobby TV.
The dentist really went in for the "we're in a cabin somewhere" scheme, by the way. To the left, there, is a canoe book shelf. I am not making that up.
Here I am, thoroughly enjoying said game. Note also the canoe lamp behind me. My ex-best-friend Esmerelda (the first person to ask gets impaled with a pine cone. I've told the story 40 times. Google ByeByePie + lost my best friend. You're welcome) used to sell Precious Moments figurines, and they had an anniversary figurine of two Native Americans, "injuns" as Hulk and his offensive Indian tattoo would call them, and the figurine read "Many moons in same canoe. Blessum you."
I am also not making that up.
Fortunately, Ned's appointment went quickly, and I was never so glad to see someone's cute face as I was when he came out of that room. I'd been trying to read but really the whole time I'd just been nauseated for him. Really, I was nervous as a cat, because he was. But he was at the desk paying and I mouthed, "You okay?" and he nodded yes, because of course he was clamping down on 50 yards of gauze. Really, dental procedures are barbaric.
We had to go fill his prescription for pain meds, and even though he was clamping, he managed to chatter like a magpie the whole way. "Aaat rully wonn't so ad," he said.
"You should probably try not to talk," I said.
"O ay." [Eight-second pause.]
"Eally, o. It wonn't at ad."
"Okay, good. But TRY NOT TO TALK. Just clamp."
"Oot ooo you aaant oo oo now?"
"OHMYGOD, CLAMP. We aren't gonna do anything now but get you home. Geez."
Eventually, we got home and Ned changed his disgusting awful gauze and got all woozy about it and asked for a chocolate shake. Ned never wants bad things like chocolate shakes, and I was glad to go get him one. But right when I was leaving, I got a text that Lilly had had her baby! And they wanted me to visit right then!
Ned said he'd watch his riveting sports and sleep and to go ahead, and I was kind of worried he'd expire from tooth removal, but I also really wanted to see Lilly for the FOURTEEN SECONDS they keep you at the hospital anymore, so I said I'd scream over there, stay for 15 minutes so as not to be the rude overstaying visitor, then get Ned his shake.
On my way to see Lilly, I remembered I forgot to sign that contract for the Exciting Thing Ima tell you about eventually, so I stopped at home, let the dogs out who were totally confused by me being home at 4 p.m., signed and scanned and emailed said Exciting Contract, then scream scream screamed over to the hospital that is eight inches from my front door, and also where I left my fibroids last year. And the year before.
Clearly I have boomerang fibroids.
And oh! Lilly's baby is cute! And thank heavens, because Lilly had SAID she had a cute baby, but she's the MOM. If that thing had come out looking like Marty Feldman she'd have thought it was cute.
Okay, here's the story. Lilly said I could put the baby's picture on here, and I KNOW Lilly HATES her own picture, yet I ASSURE you she looks REALLY VERY LOVELY in this one, but I cut as much of her out as I could so I wouldn't piss her off and yet still include the baby. Whose name is Zella Grace. It's a family name. Isn't that a cool name?
Also, Lilly got a beautiful diamond necklace from Chris, for, you know, passing a huge baby head out her parts and so on. Which by the way Lilly did not exactly enjoy. Wasn't what you'd call a relaxed evening, her evening of giving birth. Am thinking surrogate motherhood will not be on L's list of hobbies anytime soon.
Childbirth. Apparently it hurts.
Naturally when I got back to Ned's I showed him this photo of me holding a newborn necklace. "You deserve a diamond necklace too," said Ned, who I doubt is out getting me one because he clearly said that while under the influence of morphine or whatever he took for his teeth. "When you have my children, I will get you a diamond necklace."
See. Someone just got away with murder, there.
The point is, after I did all those things like sign contracts and visit babies and covet diamonds, I schlepped to the shake store and got Ned's treat, only to DROP IT LIKE IT WAS HOT when I got to his house.
Best.girlfriend.ever. And yes, I DID go get another one. And yes, I DID swear like a madwoman. I'd like to take this moment to thank my dad for teaching me all the really good swears, because man did they come in handy when I dropped that @&%# shake.
So there it was. Ned survived. Lilly birthed. It was a big day. Other than the part where I didn't get any diamond necklace.
The rest of the evening we spent quietly, because Ned was told he couldn't eat anything but mushy stuff, and he couldn't drink alcohol, and he couldn't have…raucous activity, so that pretty much ruled out anything we WOULD have done on a Friday. Usually Fridays find us eating a whole mess of peanut brittle then slam dancing in a mosh pit.
Generally on Fridays we have a who-can-chew-the-biggest-piece-of-ice contest and then we head to the bumper cars.
Fridays? That's our eat gravel and box each other night.
Okay I'm done. So what we DID end up doing was eating split pea soup and talking.
"If you be named after something, what would it be?" I asked Ned.
"A beer. No, wait. Beers are too transient; they come and they go." Tell that to Mr. Bud Light.
"A comet," he amended. "But not one that hardly ever appears. A comet that shows up every four years, like the Olympics. …Or a dinosaur. I'd like to have a dinosaur named after me. What about you?"
"Lipstick or a sex act. Except with my luck, it'd end up being one of those sex acts involving poop. 'I'm never seeing him again. He wanted to June Gardens me! These are Egyptian cotton sheets!'"
I finally settled on a rose. I want a rose named after me. Wouldn't that be nice? The June Gardens pale pink rose. With sparkles. Maybe you could plant it and add a little glitter to the soil and it'd grow all sparkly. Do you think?
Anyway. He feels sore today and a little tired, but I think Ned will live. And Lilly is home already, of course, because WHAT IS WITH HOSPITALS TODAY? Lilly mentioned that Zella hated her first bath, and I suggested she might be French.
With that, I bid you adieu. June and her rose, out.
I wonder what we'd name after Trishelle? A hot plate. The Trishelle Hawt Plate.
P.S. Chris and Lilly just sent this picture. thurtee-ate hourz of lyfe all it take to be totlee sik of ant joon blog.