Sunday, December 23, 2007

brunchtime banter

MIRANDA: You couldn't find your dress?? Oh no! What did you do?

CARRIE: I ransacked his Christmas tree. I panicked! There was all this extra tinsel, and all these gifts wrapped in colored cellophane and bags full of that crinkly shredded filler, you know, like they put in bath set gift baskets...

CHARLOTTE: You mean sizzle?

MIRANDA: It has a name?

CHARLOTTE: Yes, I had to learn all about it in my flower arranging class. Sizzle!

CARRIE: Well I wanted the date to sizzle, not a dress made out of sizzle!

CHARLOTTE: Are you sure it's sizzle? Maybe it's just Easter basket grass. That means he likes Easter baskets! And everyone knows men who like Easter baskets make good husbands.

SAMANTHA: What you should have done is worn one of his shirts as a dress. I do it all the time if the guy is bad in bed. If I don't come, then you don't come home to a full wardrobe.

CARRIE: I couldn't do that, then he'd know I went through his closet. Plus my bra wouldn't be showing, and you know nowadays I can't wear anything that doesn't show my bra.

The girls shrug and nod in empathy.

CARRIE: It's not that bad, is it? Do you think anyone will notice that this wasn't styled by Pat Field?








After I got home I kept thinking about my makeshift gift-wrap dress. As we outgrow our party years and eating disorders and Olsen twin copycat phases, it gets harder to improvise when you can't find your clothes in the morning. There was a time when a date involving Easter grass and sizzle would have meant hot stoned sex. When did it all change? When did sizzling on a date become a bad thing? I couldn't help but wonder... When it comes to relationships, why do we keep putting ourselves under the hot glue gun?

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

You're a fucking riot! xo, carmie

Misopogon said...

MAN: Oh CRAP -- my Blackberry is dying, and they're not even to dancing sugarplum fairies yet. I won't be able to check the scores of the bowl games! I'll be forced to watch ballet! WHAT AM I TO DO?!?

Don't panic, Bob; think. I need power. No plugs in the seats... I could siphon a jule or two from my bluetooth headset like that guy in Apollo 13...if I can only find a source of static electricity to jumpstart the current. I GOT IT! My wife's dress! PERFECT!!!

[rub rub rub rub rub rub rub rub]

SCORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-The 2nd ex-cousin in-law, low sodium version

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