Saturday, July 20, 2002

This is a continuation from Jeneanes blog
A-B means "Already Blogging."

We use it with one another when something is so sumptuous or outrageous
we're already blogging it in our heads. So I say to him, A-B. and he
says, Yep. We're in it too deep--too deep not to tell about it.

George, then, and you have to know him, but you don't, but you will,
makes the critical mistake. It's one he makes A LOT because he cares
about people:

He engages her.

Oh my. We're dead. The floodgates open and, how many kleenexs did I
give Sharlene? I'm not sure. She fixes her makeup four times--after each
bout of crying. She really wanted this to work out. She left a lovely
man to be with Ron. And now look what's happened. She wants to go home
early, but it costs $1,000 to change the tickets. Ron's not giving up
that extra grand. Smart man. He's 40 and a lifelong bachelor. Need I say
more?

It goes on. I told George he has to blog it from his perspective
because my ears were filling up with blood and I was trying to watch Jenna
with this man and I was actually hoping for a peaceful evening but
instead fell into a saga.

He begins to tell her that sometimes men need to be given a reason, no
it shouldn't be that way, but if you've been a bachelor for a long
time, you're thinking in a certain way--it's an understandable way, maybe
not such a great way, but hey, the man's a bachelor. what do you expect,
etc. etc.

Then George asks, "How long have you two been together, anyway?" He's
thinking a year and a half. I'm thinking two years.

"Two months."

Jeneane thinks, someone shoot me now. I've given up my family evening
for a two month fling with Sharlene and Ron, and oh gosh she's crying
again, now what do we do. "Sharlene, it'll be okay. You just need to go
home and think about things."

In the mean time, she's hitting on the 20-something year old waiter
(did I mention Sharlene's 40?) hot and heavy, at one point headlocking him
into her ample chest.

You see, she's sure it's over; can't risk her daughter by putting her
into a situation like this, and Jeneane's thinking, but you've come to
another state with her to visit a man you've known for two months... and
then I realize, Jeneane, she's drunk. close your mouth. close your
ears.

So at that point I go help Ron, who's quite pleasant and actually
wonderful with Sharlene's daughter, pick out the prizes for the kids, while
Sharlene bends George's ear some more, finally confessing that the
pictures on Ron's computer were pictures of Ron's ex-girlfriend, and by
then George is thinking, okay, this is starting to make some twisted sense
and it's really quite useless and exhausting...

And after jenna gets her harmonica, and after Sharlene smushes her
voluptuous breasts against mine for the sixth time to say goodbye, and
after I shake Ron's hand, who by now I'm sure I like a lot more than
Sharlene, we bolt.

Jenna passes out in the car. I'm having a stiff one. And George goaded
me into blogging this because he says, "I just don't have the words for
it."

Happy Friday, everyone.

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