Monday, August 18, 2008

I Don't Get Out Much

Saturday was 'date night'. You know, I really hate that term 'date night' Let's call it what it is: "Get the hell away from the kids for a few hours night", "Get drunk and relive your teenage years in the backseat of the car night" (which I no longer think is so like awesome! Because one of us (not me) who I will not name (still not me) is old (not me) and cannot bend that way without hurting his old back (my back is totally fine, thanks). We don't get away very often, certainly not often enough because I'm still a pretty cheap drunk and if we did get out more often I think either I wouldn't be or maybe I'd end up getting arrested because I get loud and say stupid things when I'm drunk.
Of course, I get loud and say stupid things when I'm sober too so maybe the only difference is I when I'm drunk I don't really care about the stupid things that fall out of my mouth.
After dinner and some very potent and yummy strawberry margaritas, we headed off to our movie where Random Thought Number One Popped up and I felt compelled to share with my husband just how stupid I really am.
When I was a kid, I'd go to the dentist and he'd ask me if I'd brushed my teeth every day. I'd say 'yes'. He'd tell me that he had a tablet that would show if I'd been brushing my teeth every day or if I'd only brushed before coming in. We went through this routine at every cleaning. Sometimes the tablet showed that I'd been lying and sometimes not. I relay all this to my husband and he said "yes, I remember that! Our dentist did it too." Then I told him that it I had only recently realized that he was probably lying and there was no tablet that could magically tell if I'd actually been brushing my teeth all that time or just that day.
"When did you realize that?"
"Um... just now."
Once he finally stopped laughing, he noticed that I was staring at him.
"So there really is no magic tablet?"
"Yes. Yes, there is."

I think he's lying.


Anyway, we head into the movie. Halfway through, I lean over and point out the one really big scary looking actor with the bit part and decide to let him in on Random Thought Number Two.
When I was pregnant with Bre I had all sorts of crazy dreams. Including one that led me to sleepwalk into my closet because I had to find a shirt for my brother and fast because we were in a hurry for a very important meeting with Bullwinkle and it had to be a nice shirt. I woke up standing in my closet chosing between a minty green polo and the sweater grandma had gotten for me. The one with the pink kittens playing with yarn on the front and their furry little butts on the back. I think that one would have been the perfect thing for my brother to wear when meeting Bullwinkle. But that's kind of not the point. No. I was pointing out this actor because he was in another dream I had. We were playing basketball (and I was wearing a maternity dress while we were playing. Also, I don't play basketball.) and I body-checked Big Scary-looking actor with my big pregnant belly. I knocked him on his big scary-looking ass and he cried. I once made Erik Estrada cry in my dreams too. I'm not really sure what that says about me.
So I relay this little tidbit to my dearest darling husband and he turns to me with this look on his face and oh yes, I know this look. I have been on the receiving end of this look many many times. From many many people. It's the look that says "you are out of your mind!"
"I just thought you should know that I made him cry."
"Um. Thanks."

It was still early and the kids were fine or at least the babysitter was still alive and not threatening to sue us for mental anguish or anything so we decided to go shoot pool.

I have not done this in about 6 years.

I was not very good at it before.

First bar: Only pool table is taken. Guy at the corner table is prepared to mount his date right there. I am rushed back out the door because apparently I said this out loud. And um... loudly. And, ok, so I pointed.

Second bar: Only pool table is on it's sides with the legs, unattached, on a chair. Very drunk blonde outside is soooo going to give it up to that guy with the butter face. Am asked to please, not tell the guy he has a butter face. Again.

Third bar: Jackpot! We order our drinks and I rack 'em up. Ask husband if he's jealous that I'm playing with balls and they aren't his. Guy at next table laughs. Husband pretends not to hear.
We play a few rounds but I can't stop laughing and staring. He asks me what's going on. So I tell him. Loudly. The girl at the other table isn't wearing any underwear. He asks how I know and I want to kiss him because I can't believe he didn't notice that her pants were totally see-through and I wonder how she didn't notice but then again maybe she did know. Her date didn't seem to mind since he was constantly trying to stand behind her. Husband decides it's time to go before I tell her.

Yeah. I'm a lot of fun at parties.