Applethoragus

This past weekend one of my Most Best's flew into Boston from L.A. Genevieve and I go almost as far back as Susie and I. These two women have seen me through every single phase I've been through. Friendships spanning 20 plus years.

Just recently Susie moved down the street from me in Somerville. It's probably about the same distance we lived from each other growing up. During hot summer's we would call each other before noon. "Meet you half way?" We would leave our houses at the same time and rendezvous somewhere around Tilly's (I can't believe they have an actual website). I used to torture Susie during the summer. Until the age of 14 or so she was a quiet girl. She hated having any kind of extra attention drawn her way. I was the opposite. Everybody look at Shannon! I would suggest going down to the local pool to swim our afternoons away. She always agreed but hated it. She would sit in the shallow end, shivering and pruning as I showed her every dive I could muster...and then some. I was an only child and still think of her as a Sister. Her image comes up with that word association.

Through the years Suz has been my rock. We've gone a month or two without talking and it doesn't seem to matter. I think of her family as fondly as I do my own. Mike too.

Despite my torture we had some of the the best times during those hot afternoons, and laughed harder than I think I ever will for the rest of my life. We played tricks on the kids downstairs pretending to be locked in the dishwasher. There were hours of hide and seek-you would have thought that we would have found all the places to hide, but we somehow there were always more. We said the words "chicken" and "applesauce is good" because... well I still don't know why we said them. Maybe we said those phrases in absence of something to talk about. I still sometimes just say the word "chicken" out of nowhere for no reason. We would play truth or dare and one of us would end up running around the front yard with no shirt on, or listen for Ghosts calling across the pond from her house.

This post isn't turning into what I intended. I meant to write about Genevieve and I and our crazy girl weekend-but somehow I got nostalgic and started missing Susie, the girl that is still right next door.

Facts.

I put my underwear on inside out today and I refuse to change that.
I keep getting Iced Blueberry coffee's from Dunk's even though they give me heartburn, and when I start to get the heartburn I take more sips like that will stop it.
Last night I ate hot wings and then I touched Molly Vagina and it burned like ouch.
I'm guest starring in the Ruckus this week at Improv Boston and I play a prison bitch.
I read the latest Sookie Stackhouse book at work this week and got all hot and bothered.
This should all be counted as LiLu's TMI I've been reading her for weeks and love love her.
My office smells like meat.

28 Proof Liquor and an apology

Liz,
I'm truly sorry I haven't been updating my blog.
Love, Shannon

***

I threw my Dad a modest yet still high maintenance 60th Birthday party this past Sunday. He didn't want anything big, just a couple of his friends together for lunch at Pagliuca's* in the North End. He gave me a list of 20 people to call.

The weird thing about older generations than mine, is that they always answer their cell phones. Unknown numbers don't bother them at all. Every single cell phone I called someone answered. When the phone rings and I don't know the number, I ignore it and anxiously await the voicemail.

The party was great. They treated us like Royalty. We ordered things that weren't on the menu. The wine flowed like... wine.

An old accordion player came in and played music for us. It was really great.

My dad was happy. I was happy. What more can you want?

I also drank a lot. Then had to do a show at the Burren. I think it was a good set? I remember feeling great afterwards. I also remember Ted driving me home cause I couldn't, and then crying over the movie Bolt. I just got so sad. Bolt was just so sad. I also remember the hangover I had on Monday morning.

This week I'm taking it easy.

* Pagliuca's is by far the best restaurant in the North End. Anyone who says different is dumb.

Bears.

Ted's brother vomited in my hair this weekend. Which, in retrospect is really funny. It's funny because we were in the middle of the dark roads in Maine and I didn't actually think he was sick, because it's Dave, who I love, but has a history of feigning illness to leave a family event. I thought that's why we were getting on the road so early. Nope. He really didn't feel good and puked in my hair.

I love Maine. I don't do the out doors all that well, but somehow I don't mind so much when I'm on an Island listening to the ocean and trekking through the woods behind a Labrador puppy digging up deer bones. Or human bones. I mean, it was pretty big and looked like a femur of some kind. Not that I know human bones from deer bones... but still. Maybe there is a serial killer on the island. A serial deer killer.

Oh wait, those are called hunters.

I didn't mind camping so much when we went white water rafting last year, but that wasn't really camping. I had a shower, and I only peed outside if I wanted to. Which I did want to at night when it was dark and scary and the bathroom was too far away. I also felt super self aware that the only people sleeping could hear my pee on the leaves. Which made it hard to pee. But I digress.

I love watching Survivorman type shows. I mean, I think Cast Away was a freaking amazing movie. What's better than Tom Hanks playing Tom Hanks BUT WITH A BEARD?! A good beard will make any movie. Especially a movie about a gay man trying to hide the fact he's gay at a wedding so he brings his best Fag Hag.

So, though I haven't tested my outdoor capabilities I wonder how I would fare. Clearly I would have to get over the peeing thing. And I'd have to learn how to make a good fire. And ward off bears. Or at least talk them down from being such grumpy faces. Which, if you consider how good I am at calming down my grumpy cat, I may be pretty good with the bears. I don't want to brag, but if I rub Gus's ear he is putty in my hands.

Maybe I'm better off than I thought....

The whole reason I bring this up is because I think it's all going to affect my Zombie experience... when it does happen.

I still promise that Zombie Plan Part II is coming soon.

Hickey

I was driving to work this morning, multi-tasking, as I applied make up and brushed my hair at the 15 redlights between my house and the highway when I noticed it.

I was pulling my hair back and there was a hickey on my neck.

There is no mistaking the the broken blood vessles in a circular formation. It look like someone sucked on my neck for ten seconds too long.

Here's the rub: Ted and I didn't make out or even get a little bit fresh last evening. Hell, I was so tired last night I don't even know if we made eye contact. But there it was-on my neck left like the tag of a 16 year old boy.

How did this happen? The cat slept with us, is he a vampire? Are there really Chupacabras? Explain yourself Hickey!

A pain in my bow.

I have a terrible horrible no good very bad pain in my elbow.

After Web MDing it at work today, I have concluded that I have a serious infection resulting in what will be a slow and painful death sparked by untreated strep throat months ago, OR either* tennis elbow or golfer's elbow.

I think it's the golf one. I played a golfer in a scene last night.

That must be it.

* Yes, or either. Not either or.

Snarting.

After I had a glass of wine last night I laughed and boogers came flying out of my nose. I then proclaimed:

"Oh no! I snarted!"

Is that a thing? Snarting?

Okay thanks bye.