The Joker

I have way too much time on my hands these days but it’s all good because I have discovered the show “Intervention”.  Holy shit you guys, if you ever want to feel better about yourself tune in to this trainwreck.  Whew, pass the bottle too because after watching about three back to back episodes you’ll deserve a good stiff drink because YOU certainly don’t have a problem.  My favorite so far was the older couple who just sat around and drank all day long.  They were delightful!  Drunk at breakfast and so in love!  Well, they had adult children that weren’t amused but that’s probably because Mom and Dad are spending their inheritance on handle bottles of Lord Calvert.  I’ll tell you another thing, if anyone ever approaches me about “being a in a documentary about addiction” I’m going to politely excuse myself to the bathroom and crawl out the damn window.  

So.  I’m still trying to make friends and get out and about here in my new city.  This, I will tell you, stinks.  At 44 it’s just not nearly as easy to meet new pals.  Back in the day you borrowed a gals lip gloss in the bar and you were BFF’s.  Now it’s not so easy.

Last night I attended a girls night out dinner with 13 other women I’d never met.  This is nerve wracking.  It’s worse than dating, really.  I sat in my car wiping sweat beads off of my upper lip, trying to fix my mascara and pitting out in anticipation.  We all know I have no fashion sense whatsoever and tend to have a Tourette’s situation going on when I have to meet a group of folks and “tell them more about myself”.

After introductions we all sat down and ordered some wine, thank God.  It was a diverse group but I genuinely enjoyed most everyone.  I realize that in my age bracket most women are going to have children so it’s refreshing when I meet a few ladies who don’t.  Nothing against kids, I just don’t have much to say when the conversation turns to diaper genies and Disney.

Which leads me to this next juicy tidbit.  To my left sat a very attractive and friendly blonde gal, recently divorced.  I immediately liked her when she mentioned she continued to treat herself to an occasional glass of wine throughout her pregnancy.  Insert audible gasp here.  However, she told me that she was ready to date again and asked me if I knew any single guys in their 30’s.  The conversation went downhill. Fast.

Me:  So what’s your cut-off age?
Blondie:  What do you mean?
Me:  Like, how old will you go?
Blondie:  I don’t know.
Me:  C’mon – what is it, 40?  You know want a “grandpa don’t touch me there” kind of situation, do you?
Blondie:  No!  Okay, then 40 it is.

Me:  Okay.  So what are you looking for in a guy?
Blondie:   Um…well first he has to LOVE Disney!
Me:  *laughing* Are you fucking kidding me?
Blondie:  You’re rude.  I love Disney!
Me:  I am rude but I’m also the truth, Blondie.  Have you seen the dating pool lately?  Why don’t we start with TEETH and say, A JOB?
Blondie:  It’s that bad?
Me:  You have no idea.  You’ll be lucky to get a guy with a lazy eye and a withered hamster hand and you’re looking for some dude who LOVES Disney?  Jesus, girl  don’t you know that you’re already a single mom at 30 and that’s not exactly a turn on?  Maybe look for a guy that doesn’t play with star wars figures and lives somewhere besides his parents basement, sure, that’s a start.  Don’t even worry about little details, like bad breath and wardrobe because believe you me if you find a guy that will say “god bless you” when you sneeze and open a door for you now and again you better hold on to him like grim death and don’t worry about his disgusting back hair.

Blondie:  Oh.  When can I bring up Disney?
Me:  Right after you tell him you have Herpes.

For the record let me mention that Blondie does not have Herpes.  Well, she may but we didn’t have that conversation.  You guys can smell what I’m stepping in, can’t ya?

Let me also mention for the record that after this diatribe I excused myself to the bathroom and I died laughing because after gulping down sipping two mongo glasses of red wine I had wisps of a mustache on the corners of my mouth making me look a bit like the Joker from Batman.  That had to have added to the fun for Blondie, no?

I bet this is exactly how I looked.  I was sweating through my pressed powder.

3 thoughts on “The Joker

  1. Oh that was hilarious!!! And that was also the best advice to give her! A man who loves Disney… good god. GACK!

  2. JT says:

    According to you, I play with Star Wars toys. Does that put me in the lower caste?

  3. Anonymous says:

    That's why I love you … good lord I miss you!!! Everyone needs a dose of Jen every once in a while … I know I do!!!Love ya girlie!!Betsey

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