“You are not a golden god!”
I cringe watching Ben hover on the roof above us. He puts his hands to his hips and my brain starts chanting, please come down, please come down. You are not a golden god! Had I put acid in the guacamole? I think not. I shoot a quick glance at his mother; she can’t even watch him up there. This I understand. Beer plus climbing on roofs has never equaled anything good. And I’m thoroughly relieved when finally, lights arranged, he comes back down. I won’t have to hyper-worry again until Langhorne perches on the ledge a few hours later during Truth or Dare. I go back to my guacamole and conversation.
That’s when the patio begins to swim in front of me.
First Tanya’s red beads blur and I feel my stomach drop. Sweat runs down my cleavage and my mouth goes dry. I excuse myself. Trip to the drug store, ginger ale, cold compresses. The rest of the evening is sort of a blur of non-party activity on my part. Somewhere between woosy trips to the air conditioned haven of Ben’s bedroom, Goldner makes his diagnosis.
I have caught Molly Ringwald’s cooties.
This makes perfect sense. Earlier in the evening while dining at Blue Smoke, we made restaurant friends with a wee one. She toddled around the tables and eventually stopped to give G an extra gooey high five. I do believe she actually licked her hand first. Cute little imp. Goldner, who is genuinely smitten with anything small and/or furry, was completely oblivious as to who exactly the little imp was. Until her red-headed mother came to collect her. Small talk was made and the little one fitted with a white bonnet and toddled out of the restaurant.
Goldner held up his hand. “I have Molly Ringwald cooties!”
That, he did. And apparently, he’s passed them on. By 1AM, Tanya and I are big-spoon little-spooned on Ben’s bed. She, hammered and me, cootied. We make quite the pair. By the time the fellas wake us up sometime around 3, I’m feeling like I could really give that Parker Posey a run for her money.
I am such a party girl.
Speaking of party, join me tonight at Pianos. 8-10 pm. I will be awake. There will be music. You will love it.
wooooo – you wiiilllddd woman!
Never has there been such a finely regaled, cootied woman. You do passed out like P-diddy does the Soul Train awards.
Love the wine glass on the windowsill!
Do you always look so cute when you sleep?
It’s because I genuinely AM small and/or furry!
I dated someone who’d slept with Molly Ringwald once. I mean, he and I only dated for a short while. But, he lived with her, so I guess they slept together many times.
Anyway, that means I have Molly Ringwald cooties too. Just a different sort.
The end result of mine was also nausea, but that’s mostly because he was such an ass. So, all in all, I’d say yours are better.
Hope you’re feeling well today.
Awwwwwwwwww…what a cute picture!
Children are the worst sort of fomites. Cute, yet pathogenic to a fault. But beautifully told.
It never ceases to amaze me how you can spin such great stories out of misfortune. Just watch, all the cool kids’ll be clamouring for Molly Ringwald cuties real soon.
which one of you is plugged into the wall?…it is hard to tell.
nevermind, there are two plugs…all is well.
WOAH!
I’m feeling rather…exposed.
To cooties? Or the Internet?
Aren’t they one in the same, really?
wait, where did the handsome foreigner on the bed disappear to?
Dutch!
Hey man. You gotta hang around til the wee hours of the morning to make the photos!
i live in broookkklyn, do you know how far that is from that lovepad of his?
ummm, am i first to mention the tattoo?! (i must be a newbie, even after 10 months!) that looks like a tat of a fishie too! really really kewl.
That’s because that’s… Tanya. I’m too chicken for tattoos.
Not for long, not for long…
um, yeah. i knew that. uh huh.
ooops!