“Go get four paper towels. FOUR.”
“See if you can put those 27 parts back together.”
“I’ll pay you five bucks to lick that drain.”
“Is there a specific pro- …. Oh look who I’m talking to, what’s the specific procedure, and how many paper towels will it require?”
“I would only go through all this work for true love, or beer.”
“What do I do with this ‘pump and probe’ lube? ………. Nevermind, I’ll just call Buckman and ask.”
We knew each other when we were teenagers. Which might be why I felt so young again.
Valancy Jane – *feels forehead and nods toward drink* “Well, Aurora’s Mexican grandma swears by tequila as a cure.”
Former Coworker I – “I’m Irish. We use whiskey.”
Valancy Jane – “I’m a Jew. We whine until we feel better. Don’t knock it.”
……… I was there the last time Buckman had tequila. Let’s see, I strained a muscle in my back, the Mexican Federales were involved, my boyfriend made a run for it, and my brother could no longer wear white to his wedding. TRUE STORY.
“Do you mind if I leave about 20 minutes early? I have to be downtown by six.”
“Have fun partying.”
“I’m going to an astronomy lecture at the museum, actually.”
Cut to three hours later, I’m drinking bourbon out of my purse and stage whispering to my buddy Yost that I’m totally turned on by the Hubble Telescope, and I recall laughingly that little hint of indignation that crept into that last sentence.
My boss knows me too well, I guess. Everything turns into a party.
So I was out with my friend Alex. Have I ever mentioned my friend Alex? Nice guy. I met him at Sole Luna restaurant where I pretended to be deaf and he pretended to be single but we eventually sorted it out after two weeks of him thinking I was the best lip reader ever. Despite all that, we’ve drifted into a friendship where he brings me wine (he’s in the business) and books, and I bring him …….. joy? I dunno.
That’s Alex. He’s 42 and looks quite appropriately, 42. I on the other hand, due to my puppy-like manners and large collection of headbands, often fool the casual observer into thinking I’m younger than my 29 years.
So there we were, walking into a bar in Del Mar, and a couple of guys also entering the bar hold the door open for us. Pleasantries are exchanged and we take a seat a table next to them at the bar.
Later, something perks my ears and I look up from my Japanese whiskey. I hear one of the guys say “for every year age difference you gotta figure at least another thirty grand a year he must be making, and he’s got twenty years on her so ….” As I look up at the speaker, he looks mortified.
They cleared out shortly after, and when we tried to pay our bill we were informed that our “friends” had taken care of the whole thing. Alex was confused so I filled him in on what they’d noticed me overhear.
“I hope they didn’t offend you,” he said.
“GAWD no. They thought I was twenty-two. You?”
“No, they thought I was out with a twenty-two year old. And they thought that I was rich. And that despite all that, they thought that I needed to be cheered up with a free dinner.”
Does it still count as going for a run if you stop for a burrito and a bottle of boubon?