I can't believe I'm typing these words...
I attended book club. I guess I should say, I finally attended the book club MGB invited me to months ago. At first I delayed checking it out because it didn't seem like a BBG kinda thing...
A) I don't like to read. (I can. I don't like to.)
II) The concept of sitting around with a buncha girls is generally, kinda not my thing either.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those girls who doesn't like other girls. Honestly, I like the company of guys. I'm a guys girl. Mostly because a dude is never gonna make me have a conversation aboutProject Housewives Dancing Idol Bridezilla Survivor Model or whatthefuckever the latest show all the girls are a buzz about that I already hate just from the commercial, or why I think her boyfriend/husband said X, or try to impress upon me the merits of the latest diet, or hair dye, or any of the other 26,000 things chicks gab about that I want no fuckin' part of.
With that said, I like girls fine. And it's important to note that generally I am nice to all girls. How nice? I've had random stranger girls actually tell me they like me because I'm not one of those 'girl hater girls'.Schweet. I'm not a complete bitch.
It takes a certain kind of girl to make me actively want to hang. And the book club girls? Well, those are my kinda girls. So while I was still suspect of the literary aspect, I was totally down with the hangin' out with cool ass people part and last week that night happened. The group was comprised of several girls who I've known for years from way back in my radio daze. Girls who know me well enough to have been savvy enough to have sold the concept to me with phrases like, "you don't even have to read the book." I, in turn, sold AnonD, who also joined in for the festivities.
The git togetha was held at (code name) Marietta's delightful homestead. Where I immediately made her very nice and accommodating hubby, well, my weather bitch. "I need you to be in charge of monitoring the weather. If it looks like we're gonna die, I'm going to need a heads up so I can go home put my car in the garage and get in the hole (aka: the basement)", was my less than Emily Post endorsed version of, 'hello, thanks for having me in your home.' Not only was he johnny on the spot with those duties, I'm also considering code naming him Grillmaster K for his contribution to our yummy din-din.
I got to see their little (and super cute) one playing in her "ring of fire" (aka: her baby gated circle area). It made me want my own ring of fire. And then I remembered I was a grown up and I had one, it's called here. Instead of being gated, I have walls. (That and realizing I could go to sleep/get up any damn time I chose, have cookies any time of day and can also have booze and drive--not in that order, or together, of course, I stopped being jealous of a 20 month old.)
In addition to experiencing my first book club, I also officially tried the phenomena known as Skinny margarita. It wasn't bad. Although, once I understood what it was, not just that Bethany girls brand but that it is essentially diet booze, I may have been a bit mentally tainted. Swayed if you will. Diet/light/made "healthier" any and everything, in my mind equates pretty much to bad. (Plus, usually, diet/light/made "healthier" stuff makes me wonder what chemical hocus pocus had to be worked in order for whatever was taken out to ostensibly not be missed. And when can more chemicals ever be good for ya? This will come as no surprise but the BBG is a full fat, full sugar kinda girl.)
In addition to Marietta and AnonD, the club that night consisted of MGB, her pal (and new person to me, code name: The Lunch Lady) and (code name) Steven Tyler Kissed Her Ass. (Any guesses how I have bestowed upon her that code name?)
While book club ran from six until after 11pm, the book discussion portion of the evening consisted of approximately 180 seconds. The remainder of the time was devoted to catching up, story telling and massive amounts of laughter. There were some worldclass funny stories going around.
I really had a grand time. It's easy to say that I laughed more in those several hours than I have it seems in months, which was awesome. (No, wait. Fuckin' awesome!) One of the best things about my friends is their ability to be such good mixers. I can drop almost any one of my friends with any other friend(s) and pretty much know that they'll like one another. It's such a luxury. I absofuckinlootly love it. Never having to wonder if somebody's gonna say sumthin' stoopid, or if somebody's going to feel awkward or out of place. Nope. They'll be making plans to hang out without me in 15 minutes.
Of course fun and frivolity didn't keep near death experiences at bay.Why would I be able to enjoy a near death experience free evening? A storm moved in while we were book clubing, which necessitated a move from the patio to the garage, to accommodate the smokers (aka: everyone but 2). It worked out well, that is, until the storm brought us the present of lightning to the party. I became too afraid to stay seated in my metal-y folding chair. (...I could already see the 10,000 Ways To Die actor portrayal retelling of lightning flying into the garage and gazillion ass jolt welding me to the chair. #768 Fllllllaaaasshhhchance...) I was mocked for my dedication to safety preparedness and stayin' alive instincts as I paced the floor. But I knew as I stood there, safely out of my electric chair metal canvas covered lighting rod that when I was the one on the news recounting how I lived unscathed through the lightning bitch slap by Mother Nature, I'd have the last laugh. (That's right. I'm livin' for spite!)
Being a such a storm chicken and having survived the open garage door/lightning experience, I was starting to feel like I had already dodged death that evening and things should be pretty smooth and clear for the rest of the night.
Wrong.
Just as I was coming down from my adrenaline (and too close lightning strike) fueled flight or fight frenzy and had reclaimed my place in the seating circle, something caught my eye.
It was a free range Mickey scurrying across the floor, unfuckingcomfortably close to my flip flopped foot. For the second time that night I found myself squealing in complete and utter fear for my life. Even though I was assured that he was more afraid of me than I was of him, I was entirely sure he was plotting a way to skitter over to me and touch me with his bubonic plague carrying tail or something.
So, if you're keeping track that's BBG 0 - Mother Nature 2.
On the other hand, three sixty five x 67 years, carry the 2, well, I never was very good at math so let's just say it = I'm still alive so maybe I'm beating Mother Nature? I donno.
I do know that I'm probably hittin' book club again. I could always use more good times hangin' with good peeps in my life. Who knows? Maybe I'll even read sumthin'? (But please don't hold your breath)
I attended book club. I guess I should say, I finally attended the book club MGB invited me to months ago. At first I delayed checking it out because it didn't seem like a BBG kinda thing...
A) I don't like to read. (I can. I don't like to.)
II) The concept of sitting around with a buncha girls is generally, kinda not my thing either.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those girls who doesn't like other girls. Honestly, I like the company of guys. I'm a guys girl. Mostly because a dude is never gonna make me have a conversation about
With that said, I like girls fine. And it's important to note that generally I am nice to all girls. How nice? I've had random stranger girls actually tell me they like me because I'm not one of those 'girl hater girls'.
It takes a certain kind of girl to make me actively want to hang. And the book club girls? Well, those are my kinda girls. So while I was still suspect of the literary aspect, I was totally down with the hangin' out with cool ass people part and last week that night happened. The group was comprised of several girls who I've known for years from way back in my radio daze. Girls who know me well enough to have been savvy enough to have sold the concept to me with phrases like, "you don't even have to read the book." I, in turn, sold AnonD, who also joined in for the festivities.
The git togetha was held at (code name) Marietta's delightful homestead. Where I immediately made her very nice and accommodating hubby, well, my weather bitch. "I need you to be in charge of monitoring the weather. If it looks like we're gonna die, I'm going to need a heads up so I can go home put my car in the garage and get in the hole (aka: the basement)", was my less than Emily Post endorsed version of, 'hello, thanks for having me in your home.' Not only was he johnny on the spot with those duties, I'm also considering code naming him Grillmaster K for his contribution to our yummy din-din.
I got to see their little (and super cute) one playing in her "ring of fire" (aka: her baby gated circle area). It made me want my own ring of fire. And then I remembered I was a grown up and I had one, it's called here. Instead of being gated, I have walls. (That and realizing I could go to sleep/get up any damn time I chose, have cookies any time of day and can also have booze and drive--not in that order, or together, of course, I stopped being jealous of a 20 month old.)
(BBG and Marietta and Grillmaster K's wee one and tot I intend on stealing, Harper)
In addition to experiencing my first book club, I also officially tried the phenomena known as Skinny margarita. It wasn't bad. Although, once I understood what it was, not just that Bethany girls brand but that it is essentially diet booze, I may have been a bit mentally tainted. Swayed if you will. Diet/light/made "healthier" any and everything, in my mind equates pretty much to bad. (Plus, usually, diet/light/made "healthier" stuff makes me wonder what chemical hocus pocus had to be worked in order for whatever was taken out to ostensibly not be missed. And when can more chemicals ever be good for ya? This will come as no surprise but the BBG is a full fat, full sugar kinda girl.)
In addition to Marietta and AnonD, the club that night consisted of MGB, her pal (and new person to me, code name: The Lunch Lady) and (code name) Steven Tyler Kissed Her Ass. (Any guesses how I have bestowed upon her that code name?)
While book club ran from six until after 11pm, the book discussion portion of the evening consisted of approximately 180 seconds. The remainder of the time was devoted to catching up, story telling and massive amounts of laughter. There were some worldclass funny stories going around.
I really had a grand time. It's easy to say that I laughed more in those several hours than I have it seems in months, which was awesome. (No, wait. Fuckin' awesome!) One of the best things about my friends is their ability to be such good mixers. I can drop almost any one of my friends with any other friend(s) and pretty much know that they'll like one another. It's such a luxury. I absofuckinlootly love it. Never having to wonder if somebody's gonna say sumthin' stoopid, or if somebody's going to feel awkward or out of place. Nope. They'll be making plans to hang out without me in 15 minutes.
Of course fun and frivolity didn't keep near death experiences at bay.
Being a such a storm chicken and having survived the open garage door/lightning experience, I was starting to feel like I had already dodged death that evening and things should be pretty smooth and clear for the rest of the night.
Wrong.
Just as I was coming down from my adrenaline (and too close lightning strike) fueled flight or fight frenzy and had reclaimed my place in the seating circle, something caught my eye.
It was a free range Mickey scurrying across the floor, unfuckingcomfortably close to my flip flopped foot. For the second time that night I found myself squealing in complete and utter fear for my life. Even though I was assured that he was more afraid of me than I was of him, I was entirely sure he was plotting a way to skitter over to me and touch me with his bubonic plague carrying tail or something.
So, if you're keeping track that's BBG 0 - Mother Nature 2.
On the other hand, three sixty five x 67 years, carry the 2, well, I never was very good at math so let's just say it = I'm still alive so maybe I'm beating Mother Nature? I donno.
I do know that I'm probably hittin' book club again. I could always use more good times hangin' with good peeps in my life. Who knows? Maybe I'll even read sumthin'? (But please don't hold your breath)
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