PIC and I are having a lot of girl time as of late. Her blessed, sweet husband never minds that I show up at random and spend the night, or that PIC and I have inside jokes that make us wheez with laughter….loudly….for hours….or that we cheer each other on in games when we should be trying to compete against each other. I can’t thank him enough. He needs a blog name, but I can’t think of one. Suggestions?
Anyway, our girl time lately made some mini-blog moments. I’m relatively sure that if anyone randomly walked in on these moments, I’d be committed. I don’t care. PIC and I have the best fun.
If you’ve been reading the blog for a while, you probably get that I am in a crazy spiral of relationship drama. I am SERIOUSLY keeping this generic to protect the
Me: After a long relationship, or any relationship that serves you up a hot steaming pile of bitter, a girl needs a palate cleanser. A sorbet if you will.
PIC: OhMyGod!!! SORBET!!!!!!! I am always going to call him that. I don’t care what happens. He will always be sorbet to me.
Me: Oh Sorbet…..sigh
PIC: He’s sorbet. And confetti.
Me: Sorbet with confetti sounds gross.
PIC: It is.
After realizing the entire plot of a movie revolved around corn:
PIC: Corn? Really? I mean…how much corn can you actually eat?
Me: Well, corn has a lot of uses. It’s what you can do with corn that is cool – cornmeal, corn oil, corn ethanol….
PIC: Yeah, that’s true. Popcorn, corn flakes, hominy…..
Me: It’s like a well rounded super food. And then, you can use the cobs as a loofah.
PIC: Oh sweetie. That’s what our third world countries need….soft feet.
Me: looking sheepish and then giggling because I realize we just talked about corn like Forrest Gump and Bubba did about shrimp.
PIC: So why didn’t your brother in law say Baby I want Corn? That’s way better than Baby I want a Cow.
Me: Good question…..
Svetlana has been quiet lately. But she struck again.
Me: Do I need to bring anything?
PIC: I think we are good.
Me: Should I breed wives?
—sent at the same time—
Me: NO NO NO! BRING WINE. Not breed wives.
PIC: Yes to the wine, no to the wives.
I love PIC for not missing a beat. And for not even debating the fact that wife breeding is a bad idea.
I am a pro at opening champagne or anything with a cork. In fact, I am the designated champagne opener in my circle of girls. I can pop without a sound, without a spill, and usually, without any issue. Until this night.
The champagne was in the freezer to chill faster. Apparently that made the cork bulk out like the hulk and hug the sides of the bottle like it was Custer’s Last Stand.
In a last ditch effort, I take to the floor and use my abnormally strong thighs to hold the bottle for leverage as I wrestle the cork. No matter what I did, it still didn’t work. Defeated, I put the bottle on the counter.
PIC: looking lovingly at the bottle But… I really want to drink you….
Me: Me too….
PIC: places her sweet cheek to the cork and says in a soothing voice You’ll really enjoy the ride….I promise.
Me: I truly hope that works.
PIC: raises one eyebrow like “It WILL.”
Me: scratch the frost gently off the bottle with my nails Come on bubbly…you know you want to…..
PIC: nods approvingly then relinquishes bottle
I hit the floor again with the bottle of bubbly held by my legs. I twist, I pull, I did get freezer burn on my thighs a little, but the cork came out!
Me: It DID work!
PIC: Yea-yea-yeah!! Cheers!
Incidentally? TOTALLY worth freezer burn thighs. Best bubbly I’ve had in a while. YUM.
Happy Friday Y’all!