So, this is no joke. I'm going to this man's house next month:
See...here's the proof. It arrived today. The paper was almost too thick to fit into my scanner. I'm going to use it as a bulletin board after the wedding.
Paul Bunyan's close college buddy is marrying the Fonz's daughter. As much as I'm excited to meet Potsy, there is a little bit of a problem...I'm a country girl and I've got no L.A. in me. I've got the nails of a country girl (yea, dirty), the skin of a country girl (yea, never have worn make-up), the hair of a country girl (wild and crazy), the nasty toes of a country girl (maybe one pedicure, ever, in my whole life), the white ass of a country girl (never seen the sun), and generally the classless demeanor of a country girl (I can burp really loud). So, I needed some help. I needed the fashion guru...the Goddess Who is Gone. Us Wombats (women on mountain bikes and tele skis) had to endure the painful loss of one of our own a few years ago. The beeatch moved to the big city. But I'm grateful she let us all camp out on the empty floor of her teensy apartment like we were in summer camp again. AND I'm grateful I had these beautiful wombats to drive my ass down there and then put up with my shenanigans when we got there:
This is "E". That's short for Mary Elizabeth. She is a rippin' skier and mountain biker. She loves yoga and hanging her sheets out to dry. She is a dermatologist P.A.
This is Rebecca. She's a rippin skier and mountain biker. She taught me how to give the best blow jobs (sorry Mom, but she did). Paul Bunyan loves Rebecca. She's a saweet doctor with the nicest lookin' boobs.
This is Super Cath. Cath for short. She's a rippin skier and mountain biker (are you gettin' my drift?). She once biked over all the mountains in Europe, in like a week. She has a webbed toe; it's pretty cool. She's a saweet graphic designer who is helping me with my doula logo.
My ladies are all pretty stylin'. I had a grand time trying on dresses in the Goddess' closet when we arrived Friday night. She's got a veritable vintage clothing store under her bed. Thank you Goddess for letting me try on your vintage Valentino, even though my old growth forest poked through. But the real shopping was slated for Saturday. We had one goal: a dress for the Fonz; well, for me to wear to the Fonz's house, in L.A. That's, like, not in Vermont.
The getting ready to go shopping was a long process, especially for someone who DOES NOT have the right clothes, right shoes, right sunglasses, right purse, or any hair or make-up products to put on. But I had fun watching...and so when we finally got to the Lower East Side, we had to eat and fuel up for our marathon day of shopping. We found a tiny restaurant named TEANY, which I am told is owned by Moby. The joint was indeed teany, but it stands for tea n.y. and is a rather good vegan spot. If you go you should try their chicken salad salad (which doesn't have chicken in it) and the amazing raspberry lime rickies.
It was also a great spot to watch for women with shooties. Those are the shoe/boots that the woman in the tight-ass maroon skirt is wearing. Who knew?
This is the Goddess Who is Gone. Teany was a good place to get a good look at her. However, after some lubrication, we were ready for some foreplay. Sorry for the sexual connotations, but that's just how the weekend turned out to be.
Here the Goddess is getting really excited. And at this point I was, unfortunately, asked to put my thingy (camera) away.
A little more lubrication to prepare for the climax.
Nothing like Superman to keep the blood pumping.
The ladies found me THE dress in a beautiful shop on Ludlow Street. I wasn't sold on it, although I should have trusted their eye for fashion, since I don't have one (or two for that matter), but I was still needing more. I wasn't ready to come. I couldn't resist the idea that a better one (or another orgasm) was just around the corner. The ladies climaxed at Mint Julip and I lost them after that. E was about ready to nap, after her titillating experience, on the fluffed up display bed at Anthropologie; no one had anything left to give. I missed my chance at orgasm and had to think about this all night long. I tossed and turned on the wooden board of an air mattress that Rebecca over-blew, I thrashed in the covers, and went over and over and over it in my head. How could I have missed my chance? I had to go back on Sunday with Finn, the Goddess' better half, who simply asked, "Why did we have to come back here?" I bought the dress. I might have missed the climactic orgasm from the day before, but I'm banking on the fact that I just might be able to snag a few in L.A...thanks to the wombats. I'm sorry I can't show you a picture of the dress here (I think the Fonz is reading this and I don't want to give away the surprise) but I'll give you a hint and you can make your own deductions:
Let there be no bones about it, I will be L.A.
Ladies, the weekend is a blur (kinda like this photo) but you guys moved me to places I have never been before. Thanks for being patient with me and for coaxing when coaxing needed to happen, and loving when loving needed to happen. I love you all.
And I can't wait to show you pictures of me, in my frickin' hot dress, dancing with the Fonz.