Setting: Early evening. Home office.
Tempest and Thunder are sitting at their computers.
Tempest: *spinning her chair toward Thunder*
You know… If you…died…before the cruise…
Thunder: (not even looking at Tempest) I am NOT going to die before the cruise!
Te: Right, right, right…but let’s just say…you…passed away…before the cruise…
Te: … you know that I’m still going on the cruise, right?
Th: *sigh* Wait! What? You would still go?
Te: Well… it IS paid for and everything. And with the sweet life insurance money that will kick in, I would be able to go on all the excursions and everything. Maybe even upgrade to a cabin that has a hot tub on the balcony. I mean, this could be a really great vacation!
Th: There’s a hot tub cabin? Why didn’t we take that one?
Te: Because it costs at least twice as much as we paid. We can’t afford that. Unless, you know, one of us dies and the insurance money kicks in.
Th: Why do I have be the one who dies?
Te: *blink* *blink* Did you make a Mermaid Tiara for the trip?
Did you buy a few swanky dresses or get special tee shirts made?
You didn’t want to do any of that. Therefore, it just makes sense that I’m the one who gets to go.
In a hot tub cabin.
Te: (trying to be nice again) I could bring you with me.
Th: Stuff me in the large suitcase?
Te: Noooo. I don’t have to stuff you in anything.
Th: What, I’ll be with you in spirit? Kind of like a ghost thing?
Te: That’s creepy, dude. No. I’ll bring you…in a Ziplock.
Th: The Ziplock idea isn’t creepy?
Te: If it makes you feel better, I’ll pop you on the dresser in the cabin and place your Pirate/Monkey fez on top. Very festive.
Th: Here’s a thought: neither of us dies before the cruise…
Te: Yes! I get it! You die ON the cruise! Life insurance and a check from the cruise line! My retirement just got better.
(Thunder now staring with furrowed brow)
Oh, but I would be sad, so very sad…about you dying and…all
Th: (starting again)
Neither of us dies before the cruise. We go on the cruise together. We enjoy our vacation.
Te: (spinning back around to her computer)
Okay, but that means I have to be very careful in this next week.
Watch out for open manholes. Stay away from falling pianos. No feeding mogwai after midnight.
Th: Right. Otherwise…
Te: (confused) Otherwise…what?
Th: Otherwise, I’m going to be very sad while sitting the hot tub on the balcony of my upgraded cabin.
Te: Hey! Wha… *burn*
Setting: Early evening. Diner.
Tempest and Thunder are sitting, waiting to order dinner.
Tempest: *looking at Twitter*
Kumail Nanjiani tweeted that “Mountain Dew should be a way more standard soda option.” Did you see that?
Thunder: Why does Kumail Nanjiani care about douche?
Te: *blink* About douche?
Th: And what exactly is a mountain douche? Something to do with using cool, mountain spring water? Lying in a stream, face-up, with your head downstream, legs open?
Te: *blink* Was that supposed to stay in your head and not be said out loud?
Th: *shaking his head* Yes. Yes it was.
Te: Okay…. First question: why are we talking about douches? Second question: why are we talking about mountain douches, whatever they are?
Th: I. Don’t. Know. I have now said the word ‘douche’ more times in the last 5 minutes than I have in my entire life.
Te: I bet that’s not true. “Blinded by the Light.” Right?
Th: “Revved up like a douche, like a plumber in the night.”
Te: *blink* *blink* WHAT!?
Th: Might not be exactly right.
Te: “Revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.” Dude.
Th: Right. Like that makes sense.
Te: It’s not about douche.
Th: Remind me why we’re talking about douche?
Te: I wasn’t. I don’t even know WHAT we started talking about.
Th: You said Kumail Nanjiani was talking about mountain douches.
Te: MOUTAIN. DEW. He wants Mountain Dew to be an option when he orders soda in restaurants. That simple. Mountain Dew.
Th: Oh. I missed the soda part. In my defense, you smushed the Mountain-Dew-should part all together.
Well, he’s right. We love Mountain Dew. I don’t think I’d like a mountain douche.
Te: Please stop talking about douche, mountain or otherwise.
Th: Okay. *pause* Now I want a Mountain Dew. *blink* *blink*
*makes squinty thinking face*
Te: You’re thinking about Mountain Dew douches, aren’t you…
Th: Sort of.
Setting: Early evening. Living room. Tempest and Thunder are sitting and reading. Thunder lifts his glass and take a big sip of his diet soda.
Tempest: (putting down her reading) Man! I have to pee like a werewolf!
Thunder: (sputtering his soda) What?! Pee like a… what?
Te: Werewolf…you know “Pee like a werewolf.” It’s an expression.
Th: No, it’s not.
Te: I think it is.
Th: So this is like your father’s “Drink like a rug” and “Lie like a fish.”
Te: No… It’s more like “Walk like an Egyptian” or “Run like a Gazelle.” Or “Golf like an Orc.” You know… “Pee like a Werewolf.”
Th: *blink* *blink* Okay, no one pees like a werewolf.
Te: (thinking) Werewolves do.
Th: Maybe, but no regular humans do.
Te: How do humans pee?
Th: (annoyed at this point) The regular way!
Te: How do you know humans don’t pee like werewolves?
Have you done the research?
Th: HOW WOULD I RESEARCH THE URINATION HABITS OF WEREWOLVES??
Te: (smirking) Dude, You know there’s no such thing as a werewolf, right?
Th: (fully exasperated) Ugh! But that was my whole poin…! Ooof!
Te: (leaving the room to pee like a werewolf)
Dude, calm down… You’re all red in the face. Chill. Don’t convulse like a Murloc, for crying out loud!
I went online to sign up for TSA Precheck for my upcoming nerd cruise trip.
I want to avoid airport hassle and get on the quicky, no shoes lovefest** line if I can.
**Okay, the TSA website doesn’t specifically offer ‘lovefest’ as a benefit, but I DID go through the full body scanner on my last trip and I DID feel I had a special moment with a large, uniformed man named Darryl…but I digress…**
So, I get to the Disqualifying Criminal Offenses and Factors section.
Thunder says I – and especially I – need to comb through this list *very* carefully.
“P’shaw!” I say…until I get to Kidnapping.
So here’s my question:
If a 10-year-old kidnaps her sister’s panda named Chubby and creates a ransom note from cut-out letters and words from a magazine, does it really count as kidnapping?
What if her mother told her it would go on her permanent record.
Asking for a friend…
Up in the middle of the night with odd dreams. Again.
Let me say right up front: Orson Welles is a dick!
Apparently, I invented a new Pumpkin Spice Latte that the world needed. It was more…pumpkiny? or spicy? …or latte-y?
Don’t know…all I know is that it was great…it was a thing.
Okay, I’m lauded coast to coast. I’m asked to be on talk show after talk show where I fit right in – but the old-fashioned type of talk show. Merv Griffin, Mike Douglas, and Johnny in the years before he drank himself in a stupor by the end of the show. The guests were all old Hollywood, too. Folks like Dino and Lucy and Totie Fields (seriously – don’t name your kid Totie) …and that dick, Orson Welles.
It all went south one night on The Tonight Show. Ed introduces me, and Doc and the band play me on with some kind of Pumpkin Spice brass-based theme music. I wave and smile as I head toward the couch. Johnny and I banter and laugh and laugh.
Now, Orson is already on the couch, having come out earlier in the evening, but now he wants to get into the conversation. He tells the whole world that he hates my Pumpkin Spice Latte because the minute he adds booze to it, the flavor profile turns ugly. Suddenly, my latte tastes like ashes. Doesn’t matter which type of booze is added – same problem. Orson has brought samples of my latte and lots of booze, enough for the entire audience to see for themselves.
And he’s right! Add a little vodka and the whole thing tastes like the fireplace your husband is too lazy to clean out even though he keeps saying he’ll do it.
I guess that’s a different discussion. Ahem.
I’m ruined. Very quickly I go from Queen of Unnecessary Coffee Drinks to living in a 1985 Dodge Caravan and declaring bankruptcy. Then I have to figure out another way to make a living.
Do that many people put booze in their lattes? C’mon, people!
One vice at a time!
Anyway, that’s why Orson Welles is a dick. If he had kept his big mouth shut instead of getting all up in my bidness, I could have branched out into other Pumpkin Spice marketing areas. Just think of it! …Pumpkin Spice Pez Dispensers…or Pumpkin Spice IPhone Covers… or Pumpkin Spice Diaper Pail Liners…the possibilities were endless.
Orson Welles…killing dreams since 2016.