The girls and I, we have this…thing…that we do. At a typical Tuesday Night Dinner, there is so much chatter that is just so loud and all over the place, so many topics that need to be discussed, so many quotes that need remembering, that we take to the whiteboard.
We bought it years ago, and it’s come in handy more times than you would think. It’s true. By the end of the night it’s covered with quotes, crossed out discussions, doodles and drawings. And it usually stays that way until the next Tuesday Night Dinner, when I erase away the quotes so we can start anew when the girls walk in the door. But not before jotting down whatever is on the board on a piece of paper for remembering the good times at a later date.
For example, from one TND, I laugh my self silly at: “I think it sounds something like: ‘EngeMnnnnnMeh-Mehhh….” I laugh because I love my friends, and I laugh because I love our good times, and I laugh because I have no fucking clue what this quote was in reference to. But it was obviously funny at the time.
The whiteboard, when not in use for a TND, stays at my house, with the collection of various colored dry erase markers, and in a perfect world, I would remember to bring it with me whenever the five of us get together to record more hilarity that we won’t understand later.
But this isn’t a perfect world, so last week when we were tremendously busy stuffing our faces and embarrassing our waiter at Woodberry Kitchen, we had to make do with what we had, and I jotted down quotes and notes on the back of a pilfered specials menu Lindsay had tucked in her purse.
By the time we rolled ourselves out of the restaurant, that skinny piece of paper was filled, filled with memorable sayings (to us, anyway), most of which wavered on vulgar, a few that may have been prosecutable, and all of which were inappropriate.
We wished our waiter well, and thanked him profusely for putting up with us. He smiled and nodded, and I dare say he will never have another table quite like ours. Though hopefully he will get to know us a little better, and maybe even become part of our group, because I left a note on my receipt telling him that two of my friends thought he was cute, and wrote down their numbers.*
As we drove away from the restaurant, fat and happy, I informed my friends that I’d left their numbers on my receipt. They of course flipped out until I explained that yes, I may be an asshole for doing that, but hey, that’s what makes me fun. I think they may forgive me by our next Candles & Prayers outing, but in the meantime, I distracted them by reminiscing our notable quotables from the evening, and they sat back, content, letting a split second of silence come over the car. Until I broke it by staring intently inside my purse then asking:
“Umm, you guys? Who has the paper with all the quotes on it?”
And mayhem broke loose once again.
We debated calling the restaurant, to see if they’d mayhaps saved that piece of paper when they were clearing the table. We went through the pros and cons of our waiter reading what we’d written. I say he’ll be impressed and find us funny and witty. And therefore he will definitely call their numbers. The girls could do little more than cover their eyes and shake their heads.
But I still have faith. It’s been a week since our visit to Woodberry Kitchen, but I’m thinking that our waiter is just playing hard to get, and is pondering our witty and inappropriate quotes, trying to decide which one he really appreciates the most. I’m thinking that it will be the, “There is pork juice on my knee” quote that will really seal the deal for our waiter, will really show him how great these girls are, and how lucky he’d be to date them.
I’m expecting him to call one of the girls any day now.
Aaaannnny day now.
*No, I’m not kidding.**
**What? He was a cute guy. I would have left my own number, but I have a feeling The Swede would frown upon me doling out my number to other guys.