Gail read about my mouse problem…
… but she has some problems of her own.
When a girl from high school got pregnant after trouble conceiving, I excitedly offered to make her a gift. She essentially responded with “Thanks, but no thanks” and immediately posted pictures of pricey and pretentious baby items she wants.
Karol had an offer of her own.
I figured we could trade favors.
We are the cool kids.
I’m about 80% sure he didn’t get that pun.
… also known as “Funny Shit I Found in My Phone.”
Best friends never forget… ‘cept Gail. She forgets everything.
They never judge.
They read porn together.
They watch porn together.
I’m pretty sure, however, that step-sisters don’t… which is why I mailed the porn to her.
My father and I, we have… weird boundaries. I mean, one of my most popular posts was titled Looking at T*ts with My Dad. It’s not that we don’t also have a traditional, supportive daddy/daughter relationship. It’s just that he’s the man who gave me my flare for inappropriate humor and general conversational finesse.
Grandmotherly coworker: “My lips are so dry, they’re sticking together.”
Me: “That’s what she said!”
So, naturally, this led to the worst conversation anyone has ever had.
Me: “I have to go to Hobby Lobby after this to get supplies for my party this weekend. I’m having a Fifty Shades of Grey Goose party. We’re going to drink every time it’s stupid.”
Dad: “Lena and I actually went and saw that the other night.”
Me: “No. Stop talking.”
Dad: “Well, just to see what the big deal was, you know.”
Me: “Well, yeah. That’s why we’re going to watch it: to mercilessly mock it.”
Dad: “Well, you know, honestly, that movie wasn’t half bad.”
Me: “I can’t… unhear this.”
Dad: “All’s I’m saying is, when you watch it, go into it with an open mind.”
Me: “What?!? NO. I’ve read the books. I know the story and it’s awful. I am not watching Fifty Shades of Grey with an open mind… especially not at my dad’s insistence.”
Dad: “Well, Lena’s read the books and she said they were bad, but everyone’s talking about how those books are [air quotes], abusive and [I shit you not, more air quotes] offensive to women, but when he takes her to his playroom, he tells her ‘I’m fifty shades of fucked up.’…”
Me: “I’m pretty sure my ears are bleeding. This is, literally, the worst thing that has ever happened to me, listening to you quote Christian Grey.”
Dad: “… but she signs his contract anyway. The whole thing is between consensual adults. How is that abusive?”
Me: “Dad, the reason people call it abusive isn’t because of the BDSM – which is a term I should never use with my dad, by the way – but because of the way he treats her. At least in the books, he has to know her every move and he’s extremely…”
Dad: “Controlling?”
Me: “Yes.”
Dad: “Yeah, but she allows it.”
Me: “Dad, you seriously just defended all abuse!”
Dad: “Well… huh… yeah. I guess you’re right.”
Me: “Thanks for lunch, daddy. Next time, I’ll tell you all about my favorite erotica.”
My daddy/daughter relationship is not the only unconventional one in my life.
Gramma: “What’s a flogger?”
Me: “It’s a handle with beaded strings and people hit each other with them, in bed, because it’s sexy to hurt. I bought some cord, pink glitter beads, and decorative tape. Then I hot glued them to wooden dalrods for party favors.”
Gramma: “But what are you guys gonna do with ’em?”
Me: “I don’t know… get drunk and hit each other with them, probably.”
Gramma: “That seems like a lot of effort.”
Me: “Yeah. They’re a lot more involved than I thought they would be. I actually have to get back to making my sex toys, now. I love you Gramma.”
Gramma: “Okay, hon, I love you. Have fun.” 
As for the party, we were all pretty drunk, but I did have the presence of mind to record some of the better comments, between people who were more or less strangers before that night. It’s amazing what Jello shots will do for one’s inhibitions when it comes to homemade Pin the Penis on Christian Grey.
Catherine won Charlie Tango… a four dollar helicopter I spray painted.
Gail: “That’s really classy, Belle.”
Me: “Hey. I am Grace Fucking Kelly.”
::Opening Credits::
Catherine: “What the fuck is up with her bangs?”
Me: :showing photo on phone:
Me: “Wait. Why does he ask if she’s a Girl Scout? She’s cutting rope. Does he just have really low expectations of The Girl Scouts?”
Catherine: “Yeah, cuz there’s totally a dial tone on a fucking cell phone.”
Reba: “Ew, no! That’s Elliot?”
Gail: “He looks like a 90’s drug dealer.”
Me: “He looks like an extra from The Craft.”
::Sex toy Camera pan:: six people raise and shake homemade floggers “FLOGGERS!”
Me: “Shit. Is the window still open?”
Gail: “It’s not lovemaking, if there’s a contract.”
Me: “That… that’s literally a scene from Twilight! They’re even in a meadow!”
Gail: “Are they going to play baseball now?”
Reba: “Wait. Is this the scene where she’s just been running and now they’re gonna have sex?”
Me: “Yeah and she’s just been sitting around in her workout clothes making vaginal cheese.”
Reba: “Ewwwww! NO! BELLE!”
Gail: “It’s like FETA!” 
Gail: “Taking leggings off of yourself isn’t exactly the easiest and sexiest activity.”
Me: “‘It makes me so hot when you put wet clothes on me.'”
Carla: “I wonder if he had to learn to braid hair for this role.”
Me: “Maybe he already knew how, because he has a daughter.”
::Every single sex scene:: “MY DAD SAW THIS MOVIE!!!!!! I CAN’T!!! I JUST CAN’T!!!”
Gail: “What do you think they did after they got home from the movie?”
Me: “I don’t love you anymore, Gail!”
Gail: “I still think the most pressing question of the night is, where in the world was this movie shown in Russian for six minutes, the rest in English, with all the text in Spanish?”
The fun didn’t even stop after everyone went home.
Remember the news stories about firemen preparing for an increase in calls from people attempting the dangerous things done in Fifty Shades? I confess. I tried one myself.
Facebook status: I tried to take off my shirt the way Christian Grey does. I got lost and confused. It was terrifying. People don’t undress that way.
For realz, y’all, I nearly removed my own scalp.
That’s a decorate-your-own-tie cookie. Obviously. Bee tea double ewe, tough to explain the leftover cookies at work.
I’m thankful for…
my voice of reason.
It still counts, as long as I get it in before midnight.
I almost never get sick. It happens maybe twice a year, but when it does, it’s always an exotic plague. In fact, one of the few things that brings me any joy during these times is using my few waking hours to come up with ridiculous hyperbolic statements about my health… and also, watching Hocus Pocus on repeat. That last one may just be in general.
Me: “We’re going to watch… wait for it… HOCUS POCUS!!!! Aren’t you EXCITED?!?! ‘Twist the bones and bend the back…'”
Gail: “So, it’s your birthday and you want to do… the same thing you do every other day of the year. Shocker.”
Gail and I are hilarious. I know I’m biased, but judging from the response I get when I post a screenshot of one of our text message conversations on Facebook, I’m also correct. Like this one, with the caption “All a girl needs is one friend who truly believes in her.”
Gail: My parents know I suggested you prostitute yourself. Could you please check with me before posting stuff about me online?
Me: I’m sorry. It was just a silly funny text. You suggested that was the way to get into the mob, not just like a good life decision. I’ll take it down, though.
Me: It’s no longer up, but it’s not like I said “What’s should I have for dinner?” and you said “Dick… but charge for it.”
Me: Bee tea double ewe, that was a popular post. People think you’re funny. Preen.
Me: Don’t be mad at me?
Me: That time I sent your dad a picture of my nipple was waaaaaay worse, Gail. Have some perspective.
* I forgot that he was reading her text messages during our inappropriate photo war.
Me: Not to mention the time I accidentally told his boss to fuck off.
* I made a sarcastic remark about how his Facebook post was cheesy, thinking I was teasing him, and only later realized it was his boss’s post and she was really offended.
Me: Or when I “accidentally” kept calling you Megan in front of your mom.
* The Musician once called Gail “Megan”, during sex.
Gail: Oh, I’m not angry, just would rather it not be up and have an idea of what IS before I hear about it from my fam. Lol. Sorry. I didn’t see your texts.
Me: Well, I took it down, but it really didn’t strike me as bad. It was your suggestion for how to join the mob, not how to spend a Tuesday. But I’ll let you know in the future and not post anything you don’t want.
So, since Gaily’s taken to censoring me on Facebook, I will now be posting my favorite textersation screenshots on Tuesdays… possibly sporadically. They may not always be from Gail, though that’s likeliest, since we coined the phrase “textersation”, simply because we can send each other any random message at any time, without the forced awkwardness of opening a conversation.
So begins, Textersation Tuesdays.
I awoke early this morning, because I had to be at the library by 8:00. I checked my phone and found an interesting Facebook notification. It was a friend request from The Musician. I immediately sent Gail a screencap, had a beat of thought and confirmed his request. Had I broken down that beat, it would’ve gone something like this:
That’s really weird. I should probably deny him. I bet I could make this worse, though. It’s likely that that would be a lot funnier.
:Confirmed:
This thought process is a major aspect of my personality and humor.
The Musician
The Musician was Gail’s recurring one-night stand for about a year. “Friends with benefits” implies that they’d ever have hung out for any other reason and they did not. He did a lot of recreational drugs and played Jazz. The only thing they had in common was that they interlocked. He was her one and only fuck buddy. I never cared for The Musician, because he wanted an exclusive Gail while he stored multiple brands of tampons under his sink and had a mirrored headboard. He’s seven years older than us and every time they got in an argument, he’d patrionizingly defend his actions with “You’re just used to dealing with boys. I’m not a boy. I’m a man.” We mock this to this day… like all the fucking time. Once, he and Gail were fooling around, while she was on her period (we tell each other way too damned much), and he pulled back to mumble sexily
“So how we gonna do this, Megan?”
“What?”
:beat of silence: “How we gonna do this, Baby?”
I shit you not. Gail just went with it, because it’s not like she was there for the conversation any more than Megan was. Regardless, I root for her, because I will always root for her and it’s her vagina, so what-the-fuck-ever. They continued on and off until Gail met her current fella and still ocassionally text, but that’s all.
Okay. That’s Gail’s background with The Musician. Mine is shorter. I met him twice. I had one actual conversation with him a year and a half ago. He’d gotten Gail near to tears the previous weekend by implying she was a big ol’ ho for talking to other guys, while he called her Baby to keep his facts straight. There is no quicker way to get me or Gail to go Mama Bear than to make the other cry. I was drunk and told him he didn’t have a real job and that he probably wouldn’t tell Gail how many women he’d slept with, because he didn’t remember. Beyond this, he knew only what Gail told him of me.
So after deciding I could probably make this Funny Bad and accepting The Musician’s friend request, I went to work and forgot about it… until he messaged me. I called my Gramma after work to laugh about how he’d contacted me.
Gramma: “You need to stay away from him.”
Me: “Please, Gramma. My panties are like Fort Knox. Like I’m going to let a musician into them.”
I tend to be a total snob about men, rarely giving a second date, and have a lot of sexual hangups, so my magic number is still just the one.
I called Gail and refused to tell her anything until we met in person, only excitedly exclaiming:
“WE’RE GONNA BE WEINER BUDDIES!”
I also clarified:
“Hey. He messaged me. If you thought that I was above fucking with him for it, then you have greatly overestimated me as a person.”
*Sidenote: Gramma doesn’t like the phrase ‘Weiner Buddies.”
The following conversation is as much copy and paste as was possible for proper blogging. I shared it with Gail this evening in a Taco Bell. Just to be clear, my profile picture is of Gail and myself. The Musician knows I’m Gail’s sisterfriend, though he doesn’t bring that up.
The Musician:
You look to have had a makeover since I’ve seen you last! Nicely done. Hope yer doing fancy
Me:
Well, thank you very much for saying so. I’ve been well. You? How’s music?
– “Wow. You’re not fat anymore. I’ll make contact and inquiries as to your well-being… even though I’ve never done so ever.” Charming. No wonder he’s rollin’ in the pussy. On an unrelated note, don’t use that phrase over Thanksgiving dinner. You’re welcome. –
The Musician:
🙂 another day in paradise…music is going well. Sometimes I think my life is akin to being the like man with the most cigarettes in jail hehe
You should swing by a show sometime. Visit the city much?
– He does not know how to get into Fort Knox. –
Me:
That’s good to hear. I make it to the city every now and then. Been working and finishing up school. Where do you play?
– This was the point where I could’ve blown him off and ended the conversation politely. I, however, gave it some thought and decided that not only would it be funnier to not disuade him, but to actualy encourage him. –
The Musician:
We’ve been performing at the doll house downtown for the last year. (and no its not a strip club haha) I think my tenure with them is about over though which means we are back to the grind.
The city has some new venues worth checking out. Ill be at Grandads this coming thursday off the top of my head.
If you find yourself this way don’t be a stranger. I will always remember you riding in my back seat, firing off your mind lasers and sharing comical observations about the universe.
Message me sometime if you think you’ll be out. [His phone number] or Facebook me though sometimes it gets frozen and won’t work on me
– This is the point in the conversation that turned Gail’s laughter to screeching bird noises and mine to wheezing gasps broken up by clicking sounds. Not only does “back to the grind” mean “unemployed”, but I’ve never even seen The Musician’s car. I’ve only spoken with him once, when Gail and I went to a bar downtown and I was pretty damned clear on the whole not-liking-him thing. How many women does he sleep with that he’s actually confused The Bitch Friend of more than one? “I will always remember…” Apparently not, because that never fucking happened. The man just hit on me by reminiscing over an anecdote of someone else’s. That’s the best pickup line in the HISTORY OF TIME. I’m tattooing it to my fucking labia, because it is haaaaaawt. “Mind lasers”? Was he on some sort of halucinogen at the time? Was he during this conversation? –
Me:
Well, I’ll be sure and do that sometime soon. I’ve been wanting to visit the Dollhouse, actually. I’ve heard good things.
I haven’t even had a night out in ages with school and two jobs.
– No. I will not be sure and do that sometime soon. Yes. Ineed, I was fishing for him to ask me out… because it would be funny. Keep up. –
The Musician:
Well we gotta fix that lol! What are you studying and where ya working?
Me:
I graduate in May with my Masters in Library and Information Studies. I’m working at Shetland Schools and the library on the southside.
– No fucking way was I telling him which library. –
The Musician:
Librarian aye? Somehow that makes sense. Librarians are some of the most interesting people to be around I’ve discovered. Very mischevious.
If you see me out don’t tell the library… I have some late fees :O
Me: “I swear, the man has got to have a punch card and the only thing left on it is ‘Librarian.’
Gail: “What does he get when it’s full?”
Me: “I don’t know. VD? Syphillis that makes him blind?”
Gail: “So all syphillis? He gets BAD syphillis?”
Me:
Yup. Dream job. Just gotta do my final presentation.
Haha. Don’t worry too much about the fines. They disappear after six months.
-Nobody flirts like this gal. It’s like a striptease with words. Bow chicka wow wow. –
The Musician:
Really?! I’m going to the library today then:D What are you getting into this evening Miss?
Me:
That’s fines, not books, BTW. Lol. Not a lot. Probably more homework. Kind of broke and that’s free. You having crazy musician times tonight?
– And if so, would you invite me so I can giggle over it with my sister in every way outside of a CSI episode, whose ass you’ve been inside? –
Alas, I did not take him up on it. I went home, wrote this blog and read. Perhaps, Gail and I have forever lost the chance to be Weiner Buddies. It is a bond we will never share.
On Fifty Shades of Grey:
Me: “I really don’t understand how people like erotica. There’s just not enough plot for me. ‘I loved the plot! I loved the thick and deep plot.'”
Gail: “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Me: “What plot? Tell that story without abusive sex.”
Gail: “Okay, okay. So there’s this girl and she’s like 22 and has a porn star name…”
Me: “Huh. You’re right.”
Gail: “…and she doesn’t know what a computer is and she doesn’t know what a mechanic is. She’s really plain and she meets this guy who’s really hot…”
Me: “She wasn’t really plain. She was hot and just really insecure.”
Gail: “… and she also hates herself. So one day, he says he… wants to hit her and then play Yahtzee and she’s like ‘Oh my gosh! He said he wants to play Yhatzee with me! So they play Yhatzee… a lot of Yhatzee. Then one day he doesn’t want to play Yhatzee anymore and he just wants to hit her and she cries, because she really misses playing Yhatzee.”
Me: “That was… surprisingly dead-on.”
Gail: “OH! And his mom was sexually active.”
Me: “I said without sex. She played Yhatzee for money.”
Gail: “Or it sounded like she was playing Yhatzee for money. All he knows is that his mom would go into another room with a man and then she died.”
Me: “And there was a Yahtzee board in the living room.”
Gail: “And there was blood all over it… I don’t think Yahtzee’s a board game.”
Me: “We’re clearly quite inexperienced at Yahtzee.”
Gail: “Yeah, I haven’t played Yahtzee in a really long time.”
Me: suggestively “I know. I really need to play some Yahtzee.”
What the hell are we even talking about anymore?
Belle of the Library 