Into the wild

Chatting with my Dad (SD) one Saturday, we laughed about the first summer I spent in Alaska with he and my Mom, and the night he took me to one of the rowdiest bars in America to see Jimmy Buffett play. My mantra after that night: ALASKA! Into the wild! This will be crazy summer o' fun.

As mentioned before, the island in Alaska was long on ruggedness and short on college woman. After being there a few weeks, I was no longer perplexed at their renewed sense of protectiveness. The protectiveness that would be driven to extremes during my three month stint. Why, you ask? For reasons such as this:

One afternoon, while sitting in the car near the post office with my Mom, a woolly bully man with a large beard and overalls approached my Mom's SUV to say hello. She introduced us and within seconds, he leaned around her and asked me to dinner. 

Did you request a date in front of my Mom? You have a beard!!! I don't turn 19 for weeks. I stammer out a y-y-yes, I guess so. My Mom was caught between laughing at my discomfort and cringing at her own. I had been in Alaska for less than two weeks. My parents preferred a 50 foot electrical fence around me at all times that nary a man on the island could cross. Why? Not because they were not wonderful men I am sure. But because put a baby chicken in a panther den and watch what happens.

However, my Mom knew this man and considered him nice. Hence the implied permission I could go. Did I need permission? Yes. Why? Because a few other men who asked received this response from my Dad Not a chance in hell or NEVER. Later, my Mom seemed to find the earlier scenario quite delightful as she relayed it to my Dad. Turns out, my dinner date was only 25. All that rugged air and beard just made him look a touch older (by touch I mean 20 years.) My Dad knew him as well and agreed  he was a nice young man.

My Date: He picked me up at my parents house. In his jeep and toting a very large and adorable dog. Once inside the jeep, he asks if I don't have some Carhartts I could wear. I say no because at that juncture, I am unfamiliar with Carhartts. He laughs and points to his goldeny-brown one piece jumpsuit made of teflon. These are Carhartts! Ahhhh. No, I don't have those.

Then, this yellow lab, Boomer, climbs up front and begins licking his face. Boomer clambers into the small space between him and me. Doggie face pointed towards owner. Rest of doggie pointed towards me. Precious doggie then farts. Basically right in my face. Dinner date laughs and laughs and laughs. Guess why he is named Boomer?!?!?!?! Now you know.

Is this a good time to remind or refresh that I am not in the "fart joke = hahaha" club. Several people in my family are on the Board of Directors of such club. I am the one picketing outside. I subscribe more to the theory of "if it originated in an orifice, it might not be that funny." So as I am now squeamishly uncomfortable in this small fart-laden space with a gassy pet and a cackling dog owner. I take little comfort knowing my Mom will laugh hysterically at this anecdote.

At dinner, we struggle with conversation. I believe I can chatter with anyone. Not tonight. He asks of my post-college plans. I indicate law school is my focus. He then tells me I would like his brother, who is going to Princeton. Way to sell yourself! But his brother wants to be an attorney too. His brother does not own Carhartts either. This conversation flows like mud through a straw. On the drive home, I am treated to an additional blast by Boomer.

He was very nice but there was really no need for goodnight kisses.  

I change my previous mantra to: ALASKA! Not the wild I had in mind! This will be crazy summer o' fun except when on a date and a man's dog farted. In your face. When is summer over????

Upon relaying the story to my parents, the portion involving Boomer being their favorite, my Dad exclaims enthusiastically, "Good! And I will suggest NO more dates! But, perhaps you should get his brother's phone number."

This must be your first worst date

JohnnyMac and I took the little man to dinner the other night at one of our fave Atlanta locations, Taqueria del Sol. I went to get our table while JohnnyMac waited for our refreshing libations. I take a table outdoors next to a cute couple who appear in their mid 20s. After a moment or two of eavesdropping casual listening to inordinate amounts of giggling and awkward conversation, I quickly determine they are on a first date.

And the worst first date conversation ensues. But I loved it because it is going worldwide now, isn't it? At one point, when JohnnyMac and Mr. MiniMac came to join me, JohnnyMac said, "that must be some highly interesting dialogue going on since you are not listening to a word I am saying."

Me, not listening to a word JohnnyMac is saying? WOW...I feel like a husband.

Just kidding. JohnnyMac listens to everything one of out four
six ten things I say.

Boys and girls who are preparing to go on dates, here are several things you might want to avoid discussing:

Boy: blah blah blah my boss is a betch. Woman don't make good bosses.
Girl: tee hee heee...what?
Boy: Oh, was the offensive what I just said?
Girl: Well, not entirely offensive.

My thoughts: Ummm...straighten up Boy. This is no way to entice this woman or show your modernity. Your boss may be a betch. But the fact she is a poor boss simply because she is female is inaccurate. Go ahead and stick around, Girl. Hope you like having turkey pot pie on the table promptly at five.

Then Girl begins talking about her lunch time "drinking fest" she takes with other girls from the firm she is interning with. They call them "Margarita Lunches". Boy laughs. Girl talks about going to a Happy Hour with many people from her firm. She said someone ordered shots and says, "How stupid is that to order shots at 5 pm?"
Boy asks, "What did you do"

Girl responds, "Well, they were Redheaded Sluts. I mean, who is going to turn that down. I LOVE Redheaded Sluts."

Boy makes a sound like Slingblade and says, "Mmmmmmme too."

Girl: tee heee heeee tee heee, that is one night I did some things I regret.

Boy: (awkward hahaha) Regret like bad pictures taken of you or you woke up with needle marks in your arm? haha....followed by more awkward laughter.

Girl: Worse.

Silence ensues. While he may find this coquettish, he might also go home and google your name into YouPorn.com. Or you may become his favorite girl friend of all time.

Later, JohnnyMac takes MiniMac to potty. I catch this:

Boy : Tell me something interesting about you.
Girl: My college boyfriend had a 13" penis.
Boy: silence
Boy can say nothing immediately. Did Girl HONESTLY think about WHAT SHE JUST SAID?
Boy: huh huh uh uh....did you measure it?
Girl: tee heee heee hee hee. No.

LONG PAUSE

Boy: You measured it, didn't you?
Girl: Yes.

Thankfully I just put down my Pacifico or JohnnyMac AND little man would have worn it via pleasant snorting laughter spray-fest.

Here is just a potential tip: NEVER, and I do mean NEVER discuss your ex-boyfriend's 13 inch Johnson on a date. But that is why it was the first date and not the rehearsal dinner.