~For my angel, Kay, who always made me laugh & snort until I pissed my pants.
Kay was my crazy partner in crime.
We were sort of like Lucy & Ethel. No, maybe more like Laurel and Hardy.
She’d assert I was the bad sister, the naughty sister— but that’s only partly true. She had an amusing streak of flirtation, which I will reveal in this essay.
During one of our sister dates at Grandmas’ Sports Garden, a dude resembling Antonio Banderas happened to be our waiter. You know Antonio, no?
Interview With a Vampire. Zorro. Puss in Boots. Melanie Griffith. HOT.
Yeah, darling, that one.
So, here comes Antonio with his saucy, sexy, seductive self to take our orders. Needless to say, we’re giggling like fourteen year old school-girls.
Kay nudges me, “Oh, isn’t he gorgeous? Isn’t he adorable? Did you notice those big brown eyes?”
“And he’s young enough to be our…”
“Don’t finish that sentence, Kimmie.” She hisses. “Don’t ruin it.”
“What would you like, ladies?” Antonio smiles. Holy Shit.
Unbelievable, he doesn’t have a Spanish accent. I’m a bit disappointed.
Oh, well, you can’t have everything. Somebody who looks like that needn’t speak; he only needs to be.
His teeth, I swear to god, are gleaming white rows of pearls. His skin is milk chocolate. The Dove kind. The young kind. The licking kind. And he has this luscious black pony tail surging down his back like a dark water.
Want to go swimming?
Kay is batting her eyes like one of those cartoon characters with oversized lashes.
I’m absolutely positive Antonio is used to this sort of ridiculous behavior by females.
Beautiful people cause ordinary people to squirm in their chairs.
“Um, lets see, I’ll take a Caesar salad with extra dressing on the side,” Kay purrs. “Oh, and lets split Louisiana chicken wings, Kimmie.”
Then we both lift our heads to gaze at him.
He is a tower above us. A chiseled stature. The mythical God, Himeros.
We take the perfection all the way inside.
A warm breeze blowing up our nostrils.
“Ma’am,” he says, glancing at Kay. “I knew I recognized you.”
Kay is still batting her Betty Boop lashes, locking her brown eyes into his brown eyes.
“I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he says, “Doesn’t that drive you crazy, you know, when you can’t remember a pretty face?”
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” Kay tosses her hair back, rubs her raspberry lips together.
“Well, anyhow, a light bulb went off, and I’m like, I know that lady. I went to middle school with your son, Jordan.”
Kay turns to me without saying anything.
But her face is articulating a million words. All of them profusely, embarrassingly wicked.
Once again, I laugh and snort until I piss my pants.
—Darling, Reader, tell me a funny story. Make me laugh and snort.
—-NOTE: I am beyond thrilled w/ my new blog design done by Brooklyn Mama, Vanita. Find her. Hire her: I love this woman! HERE!!!!
Also, for you literary chicks, go visit Jeri because she ROoooooooooCKS like Gaga.