Category Archives: Va-cay-cay-cay

“Children make you want to start life over.”  ~Muhammad Ali

While on vacation I had dinner with my friend KG one evening. For the record ‘KG’ isn’t some pseudonym or something for her, it’s just that I have pet names for all of my friends. Usually I keep them in my head or they are in my phone as the way I refer to them in my mind. Like my friend Sarah is in my phone with her entire name and that is how I refer to her. Again. IN MY HEAD. So KG is KG at all times whether she knows is and/or likes it. The very first time I met KG, Alice introduced me to her and Alice kept talking to me and I was too busy all up in KG’s grill harassing her and she accepted it and likes me despite myself. She also looks like she belongs in a J.Crew catalog which adds to her general precious self.

And wow, I just hit my ass kissing quota of the day.  But seriously, if you met her you’d be all “I love you. Be my friend?” too.

It’s kind of hard to come up with really! great! stories from Martha’s Vineyard because it is so the opposite of hyperbole and extremes. Martha’s Vineyard is sitting on your butt all day in your bathing suit only moving if – and only if – the sun happens to scald your shoulders. Crossing the Nantucket sound is like an hour of Vinyasa yoga. You feel all zen and chill and all your cares are whisked away.

Upon returning our friend Danny wanted to know how our meeting went. To which I replied that it went swell and all but dude, she can’t chug a beer. And that concerns me because my #7 quality for a friend is “Must excel at flip cup”. It’s just above “Must accept overuse of ‘fuck’” and right under “Trustworthy”. So color me appalled when we were getting ready to leave and I finish my beer in one gulp and there’s KG, delicately sipping away. I swear she even had her pinky up.

But what I really wanted to tell Danny was this story:

We’re sitting at dinner and KG’s husband wants to know all the spectacular details of my life. Normally I sit there and look mildly confused but since I had the gift of Sam Adams summer ale inside of me I gave him the quick and dirty rundown. Her eight year old son was sitting across from me engrossed in Harry Potter and stopped reading to listen to my very exciting life which did not involve Tom Riddle. Instead of being disappointed in my abilities to scare off Deatheaters, he then exclaimed, “Wow! You’ve had a big life”.

“Wait, how old are you?” he said after a brief pause.

“25…” And as I waited for him to ask me to whip out my AARP card he suddenly said, “AND YOU’RE ONLY 25!” Like genuine shock that at 25 I’ve actually done stuff. And God willing I’ll do more, like, stuff.

But because I was writing Danny back from my phone while lying in the fetal position, I didn’t tell him this story. I also didn’t mention the part where The Eight Year Old asked for a pony and I gave him one and then I offered up 50 bucks if he’d come live with me and be my personal self-esteem booster.

The Eight Year Old spent the rest of the evening quizzing me on Harry Potter knowledge and then we saw some fireworks that made me feel vomitous, deaf and blind. And then we had beers and then KG drank her pale ale with her pinky up.

And that, kids, pretty much sums up my vacation.

KG thinks I should write like a book or something. I’m assuming that at some point she’ll read this post and my attempt at ‘story-telling’, her eyes will bulge out of their sockets and she’ll say out loud, “Holy hell. Stick to your day job, honey”. I mean, I’m totally guessing here but my God, that was not my best work.