Spent an amazing 36 hours in Carolina Beach, North Carolina last week with one of my best friends, Amy. Though we had to leave early due to Irene’s impending arrival, we made the most of our hours together: lazing on the beach, talking, laughing, eating, drinking and watching in awe as the waves grew larger, and the ocean churned and turned a mysterious, deep green. Standing waist deep in the water, we rooted our feet in the sand to keep from being pulled out into the ocean’s mighty ebb.
My trip home, a mere 4 hours, passed swiftly, while Amy’s turned into a 10+ hours, rain-soaked anxiety attack back to New York City. When she finally returned home with Gus, her Yorkie sidekick, she sent me a text. That text, and the ones that followed are too good not to share.
A: Home. On my stoop. No keys. Oh look, there’s the pity trolley.
Me: Oh no! Gus likes bars, right?
A: I am in hate with all things right now.
Me: Ugh, I know.
A: Gus is going to like a bourbon Manhattan. Well, at least one of the ice cubes.
Me: One bourbon Manhattan with extra ice, please.
A: So delicious. I’ll never understand why embryos don’t like them.
It’s nearly Father’s Day, and I acknowledge the ache of missing him. I acknowledge the gratitude I have for my memories: the sound of his laugh popping into my mind at unexpected moments. The words and phrases that entertained, infuriated, taught and shaped me into this ever-changing lump of clay that will always be his daughter.
When I was a server:
If you put on some rouge, you’d make better tips.
Get around this guy! He’s loafing in the left lane.
On the golf course:
Keep your head down. Don’t try to kill it.
On any professional athlete who showed poor sportsmanship:
He’s a bum.
When I playfully squeezed his bicep:
Be careful. You’ll hurt your hand.
Teaching me to drive a stick shift:
Again. Try it again.
At the end of any long list of questions:
Want a punch in the eye?
When pushed to the limit of his patience:
Gee Zuss Christ!
On any ex/bad boss/person:
(S)He’s a bum. (recurring theme)
You better [whatever I was supposed to be doing] or I’m gonna land all over you!
After my haircut:
Your face is hanging out.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad and all the dads still giving advice and tossing out one-liners.
I’ve made the executive decision to start sharing the hilarious things my friends/family/colleagues/clients say. Or, in some cases, the funny stuff I overhear. So, let it be known, if you make me laugh, you may just end up with a starring role in my new series, The Funniness of Others.
Editor’s Note: accidentally-on-purpose falls always make me laugh. Thank you and good day.
” I realized I don’t really eat. I sort of snack all day. I eat like I’m camping, like protein bars and beans from a can. Or, I eat like a divorced man from the 1950s. Like the other night? I ate three pieces of wheat toast with pesto on them. What is that?”
Joan, on one very short date.
“…But when she showed up in a purple Camaro…well, let’s just say it was over before it started.”
Part 2 of the Alliance For Full Acceptance’s media campaign. Billboard design by the one and only Gil Shuler. And the video below comes courtesy of Liz Oakley and Ed Bates of IVS Video and the seriously awesome talents of one Jessica Mickey. Copy/script by yours truly.