Mars and Venus and all that…

Our water stopped heating up properly on Sunday (as we discovered when we gave Molly a bath and the poor dog started shivering).

The Pretend Husband’s solution? “Just let it rest and maybe it will re-heat itself.”

Six hours later, still no hot water (in fact, not even warm water).

My solution? I trekked down to the basement, found the button marked “Push to reset” and pushed it. Like magic, we had hot water again.

Without me, the PH would have taken cold showers for a week.

Just so we’re all on the same page, ya know = give a blow job

I can’t believe I’ve never posted this story here! It’s definitely one of my favorites and gets told at a lot of parties. You’re just going to have to imagine me doing a wink, wink, nudge, nudge motion every time I write ya know.

Years ago, when I worked as a newspaper reporter, we had a photographer who was a big goof with no social skills. He provided some pretty regular entertainment in the newsroom, sometimes funny and sometimes not so funny (like when he made SJ cry during her first week on the job. I ripped him a new one for that because our boss was a pansy who wouldn’t stand up for anyone or anything).

Anyway, the Big Goof came in one day and asked myself and someone else how to approach his neighbor. They had had a few conversations, seemed to hit it off and he wanted to ask her on a date. Taking him seriously (the first and only time, I think), we advised him to ask her out to lunch since that’s a little less formal than a dinner date. So he did and she turned him down by saying she had to go to the dentist that day.

On the day in question, he went home around lunchtime and ran into the neighbor girl. He came running into the office and reported that she had been to the dentist and been told she had nine cavities. I felt bad for the guy and said, “Big Goof, I hate to say it, but I think that’s an excuse so she can say she has to go to the dentist if you ask her out again.”

To which Big Goof responded, “You know how you get that many cavities, don’t you? It’s when you ya know and don’t brush your teeth afterward!”

Me: "What?!?"

Big Goof, "It’s when you ya know and don’t brush your teeth afterward!”

I said, “Uh, Big Goof? You don’t get cavities from that.”

He said, “How would you know?” and started giggling like a schoolgirl.

Rolling my eyes, I went into another room and told another reporter (an older woman) the whole story. We laughed about what a loser Big Goof was and went on with our lives. Well, a few minutes later, Big Goof came in and started telling the other reporter the story… “It’s when you ya know and don’t brush your teeth afterward!”

Just to mess with him, the reporter said, “Wait. What’s ya know?”

So he repeated, “It’s when you ya know and don’t brush your teeth afterward!”

The reporter: “Big Goof, what’s ya know?”

Apparently, saying “oral sex” or using any sort of euphemism was too much for this 25-year-old… he blushed, said “never mind” and ran out of the room.

The best part of this story happened a couple days later when we were still laughing about what happened and our editor wanted in on the joke. We went through the whole story and at the end, the editor’s only comment was, “The only oral Big Goof’s ever going to get is Oral B!” (Yeah, we were a pretty professional bunch!)

A couple of weeks later, the Big Goof got arrested for stalking the girl and tried to pin some of the blame on me for advising him to ask her out (Dude! I said ask her out once, not keep asking her out until she fears for her safety and, oh! follow her around town and randomly show up when she’s at the grocery store or hanging out with friends.) A short time after that, I left that job with some good memories, some bad memories and the best story ever.

I'll be walking with a cane by 33!

I’ve been friends with the awesome photog BAC even longer than I’ve been friends with SJ (probably because HE didn’t wear some funky, hippy-print shirt to HIS job interview!) In the years we’ve been friends, BAC and I have gotten into a considerable amount of trouble together. It got to the point where every time he got yelled at by his girlfriend, I had been somehow involved. (But she married him, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?)

That time we had a little too much to drink and went to my apartment to sober up and he didn’t get home until 3 a.m. and his girlfriend drove around town to make sure he was OK? Yeah, I had something to do with that. That time he said he was going out for one drink and was out for four hours? Yes, that was with me. Like I said, plenty of trouble.

Which is why last night was so ironic. I helped BAC with a big project for work this week… even staying in his office until midnight (on a school night!) to work on it. So he promised me a drink or two in thanks (he’s also paying me, like, $5,000 for my help… or maybe he said $5). Last night, the PH and I met BAC at the sports bar we used to frequent all the time, had some drinks, ordered up some great buffalo wings and kicked back… for a whole two hours.

Three years ago, we would have closed the place down on a Thursday night. Yesterday, the clock hit 7:30 and I was yawning and yearning to get home to my comfy couch. We talked a good game and brought up those crazy times from our youth. But, in the end, getting into my pajamas at 8 p.m. won out. Apparently, I’m an old lady at 30.

Hard ground, cold weather, still the best sleep ever

Oh, hey! I didn't see you there. How's it going? Good, good. And me? Well, I'm good. Not too much to report lately, which is why I kind of abandoned you this week. Now I'm back.

But, still, without a lot to report. Let's see... the Pretend Husband, Molly and I attempted to camp out over the holiday weekend. It went something like this: KAT comes up with this great idea to sleep in the backyard in a tent one night and the PH agrees to it (which may have been preceded by him negotiating sexual favors in return for his company). So KAT enthusiastically picks out the perfect spot, lays down the tarp, sets up the tent, drags the sleeping bags, pillows and comforters out to the tent, digs out the flashlight and takes a lot of ribbing from her friends. Then she gets Molly's blanket and lights the way for the trio to walk out to the tent. Then she may have fulfilled her end of the bargain (if you know what I mean) and fallen asleep shortly thereafter.

KAT was woken by the PH and Molly about three hours later with the complaint of (from the PH) Molly not settling down, the ground being too hard against a softball injury and KAT's snoring waking him up. Oh, and (from Molly), there's a $1,500 mattress inside... explain to me again why we're sleeping on the ground?!? So the two of them hiked back to the house and KAT spent the rest of the night alone in the tent.

Thereby proving that KAT sticks to her promises and is more of a man than the PH.

God did not want me coming to work today

I say this mostly because of the fact that a) my body did not want to be roused from sleep and b) there was an accident or abnormal delay on every road I took to get to work (except my street – everything was fine in the ‘hood.)

Ordinarily, I say – whatever – to delays and just sit in traffic, idly staring at the wealth and privilege around me (actually, I’m usually looking up because I drive a Volkswagen, and they all drive Mercedes’ SUVs). If I’m not moving at all, I’ll send a text message or put my phone on speaker and check in with work. But that’s all when I’m stuck in my usual spot: between Fairfield and Westport. Thus the luxury.

But not today. Today, I was delayed by poor driving and poor dead animals in the following Connecticut towns: Plymouth, Waterbury, Every Single Town along the Route 8 corridor in the “All American Valley,” and then of course, Fairfield, Easton, Westport and Norwalk.

Additionally, I drove the last 20 miles of my daily adventure with my gas light on. Probably not my best choice, I realize, but just when I was about to stop to get gas, traffic started moving, so I considered it a sign from above. Above, being, the driver of the Mercedes’ next to me, signaling that I could move into her lane.

Have I mentioned lately that I hate my commute?