Everyone has one – at least. That person who’s always down for an adventure (read: stupid, yet super fun, decision), but is also probably most likely to land you in jail. I get to see mine in one week, when I go home for Thanksgiving.
I was talking to Partner in Crime the other morning and she was giving me the update on her life and the goings on in Philly. She told me about the new boyfriend and continued with, “And he has a lot of hot man friends for you! I met one the other day and thought, Ooh, Liebchen would love him!” (God, I love being the token single friend.)
- Champ…
Here’s the thing: this isn’t the first time she’s tried to set me up. Actually, it’s so much more than that; she calls it “bringing me presents.”
Years ago, when I was young and foolish, my birthday happened to coincide with Senior Week. You know, that week at the end of high school when parents pretend they don’t know what goes on at the various beach houses their teens have rented. Yeah, my 18th birthday was that week.
We celebrated with a piñata, Mike’s Hard Lemonade (classy, no?), Jäger shots (ouch), and telling everyone we met that I’d been a hostess at Hooters, and now that I was finally 18, I could be a waitress. (Why did people believe that? Who knows. Maybe because I had the shirt – which was a gift from an ex, no less.)
In any case, it was a stellar night and a memorable (mostly) 18th birthday. But according to PIC, it wasn’t over. I had walked back to our house with some other friends, and when she showed up, she had two boys in tow. She pulled me aside as the blond one looked on.
PIC: “Liebchen, look! I brought you a present!“
Me: “Um, what do you mean ‘a present’?“
PIC: [pointing to the blond] “Him! He’s for you. For your birthday!“
Me: “Thanks, but…I’d really rather go to bed.“
Poor guy. I’m pretty sure she sent him home after that.
But who knows what she’ll bring me at Thanksgiving.
Mike’s! Oh, I have no lining in my stomach because of that stuff. Thanks, Mike’s.
Tell me about it. I don’t know why we thought cases of it were a good idea to last us that whole week.
Now I know what to get you for you next birthday — which I won’t go to, either — a Hooters t-shirt.
And here I’d almost forgotten that you skipped out on my birthday celebration, not once, but twice. Thanks for reminding me.
Mike’s or Zima- I can’t decide which is worse. I have an e-ulcer just thinking about it.
Love Partners in Crime that double as the in-house comedienne!
Haha, I cannot believe your ex thought that a Hooters shirt would be a great present for you! (Then again, I can’t laugh too much, seeing as how my own Hooters shirt was bought for me by my parents, during a trip to Clearwater, FL, when we actually visited the original Hooters restaurant. I was in, like, 6th grade at the time, and thought the whole scenario–going to the restaurant, eating there, making boob-related jokes, and then getting the shirt–was quite hilarious.)