...And Then Everything Went Horribly, Horribly Wrong

Well, not really, but it's fun to say that.

Strangely, I had a blog entry disappear, so be sure to scroll down past Huggy Bear to "The Puppy Returns" so you can catch up on what happened to the handbag and the hat. The leftover salmon, along with the leftover petite filet, had to be tossed as they both spent the night on the floor of my car. Yeesh.

So I overslept this morning. Even better - I set my alarm time, but never switched on the alarm itself. So I woke up bleary eyed and panicked at 8:51 this morning, and called into work. My boss laughed at me. He seriously chuckled. And I was like, "whew," but a bigger part of me heard these unspoken words: "Never make that mistake again."

Spooky.

So tonight I should be at the gym and shopping for groceries, since I'm down to a bag of cauliflower and 4 yoplaits. But I'd rather lie on the sofa and smoke Parliaments. I think I'm still hung over. I can guarantee that the Puppy must also be feeling my pain: he called - again - last night around 7 to see if I would drop by. Um, no. You're still in the doghouse, Puppy. Think again. And he was like, "I hurt too much for this to be the day after the hangover." I concurred, though I did manage to drag myself out for a free dinner with the EH. We exchanged paperwork and a hug. Obviously, we will not be having sex again. And frankly, because the EH and I still - or rather, currently - are able to be friends, the sex part will be the biggest loss.

I can't believe I have to find a new partner... After hearing so many horror stories about how New York Magazine thinks 1 in 4 Americans has herpes and all about dating nightmares lived out by my single girlfriends, I don't know if I can ever "do it" again! And to top it off - spending time with a Model of Misplaced Testosterone like the Puppy should be enough to put me off men forever. And I seriously need that short lady from Poltergeist to run a smudge stick through my apartment. "This house is clean."

So my best-friend Bimbelina has been reading my blog and demanded that I blog about her. So here goes. Where to begin, where to begin... since our history is too long to sum up, we'll pick up from where she is now. In Japan. Stationed near Tokyo as a JAG in the Air Force. Now, it was shocking enough when she passed the bar to become a lawyer, mainly because, well, I haven't seen her PASS too many BARS. This is the girl who did keg stands in her pajamas in our college apartment. The one who suggested that we hit a bar for last call in the middle of studying for our notoriously hard-to-pass poly sci final - and our professor was the head of the department.

This is the girl who couldn't even waitress long enough to get dental insurance.

And now she's a freakin JAG! What the fuck - I am so tremendously proud of her and she is kicking ass out there. Already has one promotion under her belt.

What else can I say about my little Hungarian friend? Here's something: her parents came over to the States in the '56 revolution. Her father - one of the best people I have ever met - could never go back because of his role in that, and once told her that if their family had stayed in Hungary, and Bimbelina and her sister had been born boys, he would have given them classic Hungarian names: Chuba and Attila.

Guess who was gonna be Chuba? Oh, yes. Our friend Lisa. And hilariously, she told some friends of ours in college that story, and the nickname was too good not to stick. She ran into one of them about two years ago at a gas station in San Diego. Now, this is a guy who hadn't seen Lisa since 1992, and when he spotted her, he yelled this: "Chubaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Good times.

Anyhoo, so Lisa and I have a sisterly love for each other that transcends all of our differences. She leans Right, I lean Left. She likes hip-hop, I like indie rock. She says tomato, I say tomato. And she is an enigma wrapped in a mystery...and then wrapped in a pizza. The only person I know who can piece together the phrases "fucking delusional liberal jackasses" and "I saved a pigeon with a broken leg this morning" in one sentence.

So, Lisa/Bimbelina/Chuba - how about that? Do you like my bloggity tribute to you? And see? I didn't even tell the story about how you recently knocked yourself out in the middle of the night while apparently heading for the bathroom, awakening to a giant knot on your head and your drawers full of poopie.

xoxo