Another One Bites The Dust =D

I remember a time many years back when my friend Rachel's attitude toward men and marriage and the whole nine yards was, and I quote, "Haha...NO." Then along came her current man friend, a really nice guy, and the next thing you know, it's last night. I'm sitting on the couch brushing the cat's teeth, which is kind of a story in itself, and Rachel sends me and Ric a text message. "You guys have to come out tomorrow night. We have a wedding to plan. =)" So I send back, very eloquently, you know, because I like to keep it classy, "SAY WHA'??!?!?" So I inform Rachel that Ric is now officially deaf from my shrieking and the cat has toothpaste in his ear. Now this is a perfect example of why I adore Rachel. She calls after she gets that message, not to do the whole girly shrieking, "OMG IM ENGAGED, WOOHOO!" bit, but because she's accustomed to babysitting my goofy ass, and there are times where I'm doing something really stupid and Rachel calmly steps in to tell me I'm an idiot. Sometimes she just checks in to see if I'm *about* to do something stupid but haven't quite gotten there yet. So she calls, Ric answers, and there's no greeting or anything. Just Rachel, flabbergasted, exclaiming, "TOOTHPASTE?!" That's Rachel for you. Even in a moment of sharing her joy and excitement with her friends, she puts it on pause to make sure when she next sees me that both of my eyeballs will still be inside my skull. As for the cat, well, much to my surprise, he has embraced the brushing of his stanky skanky teeth. The whole time Ric was talking to Rachel, there was Bentley on my lap, sprawling, casual, literally grinning at me so I could brush his teeth with kitty paste--which smells delightfully minty, might I add. I was expecting fishy or poultry smelling goop, but it's been tempting to use the shit myself. Props to the guys at Pet Dental for designing a product that doesn't require rinsing because I was NOT looking forward to trying to teach the Beebs how to gargle. Training him to throw up in the toilet was enough of an adventure...and a really fun moment on the rare occasion that company is over and the cat feels the need to purge. Nothing is funnier than having drinks with friends and the CAT being the one hanging over the toilet bowl. Next time, I may sit a bottle of rum in there with him and take a picture. Kitty hangover. That has college poster written all over it.

Oh, and for any of you who have ever heard me say that I'm pretty sure I'm going to Hell because I'm evil, I've changed my mind. I went there monday night, and it sucked, so I guess I'll have to behave. What, don't believe me? WE HAD TO RUN TRIVIA AT THE TAP WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING. Recently refinished wood that still smells like varnish. Bright lights on over all the bottles. No cold beverages because all the coolers croaked, too. You could literally see the heat radiating off the surfaces in the bar. It was so hot that most of our regulars came in, stood there for a few seconds processing that the rubber in their shoe soles was melting into the floor, then about-faced it and left. We only had two teams playing trivia, and a couple of isolated non-players hanging out. So we did what any good trivia leader would do on a dead night. We got inventive. Our tie-breaker for the evening was a dance-off. Unfortunately, none of the teams ever tied; fortunately, out of sheer desperation, two guys volunteered to make asses of themselves just to try to keep people from leaving. Dave and Jimi battled it out to "I Touch Myself." I'm an evil mastermind. Sigh. I'm going to Hell. Do you think they'll let me organize dance-offs there, too?