Not your average sleepover...

Long before meeting JohnnyMac, I was a girl about town. More Charlotte York than Samantha Jones, mind you, but I fully embraced the freedom, experiences, and sometimes antics and anecdotes singlehood provided.

I would not change my life one bit, because each of these roads led me to to where I am now, which is exactly where I want to be.

But, let's be candid. While all of my experiences have intertwined in different ways to make this caravan of my life a great one, all roads are not created equal. Some roads were the autobahn, some were slick two lane highways, and a few, well, a few were bumpy dirt roads strewn with handfuls of empty beer bottles. And some roads were laden with rather funny stories. And those stories should be shared. This is one of those stories.

And my memory was prompted as my Mom and I were watching something this weekend and during an odd scene involving an odd character, she leaned over to me and whispered, "chicken lady..."

Let's get down to the grit. Oh, it is not exactly brief. Get your coffee.

Back in grad school, and out on the town one night, I met a guy and we began to fraternize fairly frequently. He was already a decade out of college and working downtown. One evening, after watching one of his baseball games, I make the mistake of not going home to read Criminal Procedure, and instead I join him and his team for consumption of cocktails.

We were far from the sleeping over stage but after many o' beverage, I was in no way going to drive home. He asks me to sleep over, you know, really for my safety than to try to mack on me. Mmm hmm. I ride with him, and his friend follows in my car. Such gentlemen. My car safely parked, we bid his friend adieu.

We enter this absolutely stunning house. Even in the pitch black I can tell it is massive. We go upstairs and in the midst of playing all kinds of 7th grade style grab-ass, I hear the following in a weird and whispery tone:

Darren....... would you like some chicken?

It is PITCH BLACK and I literally jump out of my skin. What is that? He flips on a light and look there, a woman is sitting on a kitchen chair. He says, "Hi Mom."

My mind is lightening quick with questions. Things like, why is your Mom at your house, in the middle of the night, sitting in the dark, offering savory snacks like its all perfectly normal.

I could not adequately voice the severity of my discomfort.  He declines the chicken. And she immediately asks Who is your friend? Not quite Joan Crawford-ish but not June Cleaver, either. Giving him a severe pummeling seemed like a fantastic idea at the moment. He grabs my hand, two bottles of water and leads us away from the situation. His first statement is something only Matlock could have deduced: He lives with his parents. He was 32. Really? I figured it out. Sign me up for 21 Jump Street.

Now we are downstairs in his man-den. A man-den which includes the entire basement of his parents house, also known as his living quarters. Fooseball. Pool table. Donkey Kong. Living at home had its perks for this cat. He tries to explain his situation and yet nothing comforts me from the previous scenario involving a creepy person lurking in the dark with a plate of barbeque fowl. So I smile brightly, like, OF COURSE! This is FANTASTIC!!

And then I see behind his pool table what appears to be a collection of Playboys. And by "collection" I mean WOW, there are hundreds and hundreds of Playboys. Playboys from back in the day when Hef wanted to name it Stag Party. He immediately told me they belonged to a friend. A friend with a big affinity for the visuals, I see. The mags were not a deterrent because any naughty intent on his part was washed out with cold water when his Mom appeared.

He then asks if I want to watch a movie. I am still buzzed, can not count the minutes fast enough until I escape, but I need more time before I can drive. So he then tells me we can watch his favorite movie. What might be his favorite movie? Godfather? No. Tommy Boy? Not quite. Good Will Hunting? Oh no. This:

Are you KIDDING ME!?!?!?! I don't even have that movie. Wait, what is that sound? Oh..that? It is your stock falling.

I fall asleep in a big chair before he wakes me up and asks if I want to sleep in his bed to be more comfortable. Sure.

It is a water bed. Because the hits just KEEP ON COMING. Water bed? 1997? Those two words and that date do NOT go hand in hand.

I decide to sleep all bundled up. As he attempts to kiss my forehead goodnight, his shoulder hits the nightstand sending a 32 ounce cup of water onto me and the pillow and sheets.

He says we can change the sheets.

Except he has no more clean sheets.

Because while having your own Donkey Kong machine MIGHT seem like the best value-add of living at home, I would rank it BEHIND another bonus called clean laundry.

But no. He chose Donkey Kong. And the late night chicken platter option. I ask if I can sleep on the couch in his man- den. He only says, "I wouldn't". OH, yum. Free DNA samples.

No buzz in the world could last thing long but now I am exhausted. I hoped that sleep would bring me a better perspective.

I wake up a few hours later. Blanketed up, rather burrito style on the Partridge Family-esque water bed. Gray light creeping through the windows. And daylight has the skill of making this place look even worse. Dim lighting is a sloppy bachelor's friend. Daylight is not.

But perhaps what is most startling is the fact there was a face about 4 inches from my face. And it wasn't his.

His Mother had come down to check on me. And to ask me if I wanted breakfast. And if I slept alright because she noticed the sheets bundled up on the floor. And was there something wrong with those sheets to cause them to be on the floor? And to imply she hoped I was dressed under my burrito blanket. I am sure the next question was going to be whether I preferred my carcass being dumped in the river or in the woods but I had no time for that.

She left and I was gathering my wits and my belongings, he woke up. I told him in a wee bit of a hiss/terse fashion You're mother was just down here asking me a dozen questions.

His answer?

I know. I pretended to be asleep.

WTF!?!?!?!

He got up to walk me out. No thank you. He tried to kiss me goodbye. No thank you. He told me he would call me later. No thank you. He asked if I still wanted to go to the Counting Crows concert. YES. DAMMIT, I really wanted to go to that concert but No, no, no and no thank you.

Because the only thing better than a 32 year old bachelor who conveniently forgets he lives at his parents house, has a Mom who sits up and waits for him to return home in a lurky fashion, has a stash of about 3000 Playboys but of course only for "a friend". The same man to whom it never occurs it might be wise to say the Lord of the Dance DVD also belongs to "a friend" and has not a clean sheet to be found, is all of those same exact qualities in a 32 year old who pretends to be asleep while his overnight guest gets interrogated by his Mommy.

See, I told you some of the roads might have been dirty and bumpy, but they were not without their share of comic value.

That is not a Flintstones vitamin

True Story:

At a weekend volunteer retreat, after a very long day of working, ten of us finally relaxed in front of a very picturesque campfire. We began to share a few stories, some of them better than others.  The following was shared by our friend AK.

In college, AK was a bit of a rogue. Handsome and witty, he had nary a problem meeting women. Due to this habit, AK found himself ill in his manly parts which required a trip to student health. Apparently, he had contracted a STD. Actually, more than one. This required multiple medicinal doses (as well as a reminder from the Doctor about the importance of condoms.) He was told to take his prescriptions and return in ten days.

Upon his return, the doctor of his previous visit was not available. Asked if he would be comfortable seeing a Resident. He agreed. His swagger inflated when the medical student turned out to be super hot. He felt confident he would leave with not only a clean bill of health but also a phone number.

Not even remotely reluctant to hit on her considering that he was being seen to check the status of his venereal diseases, he began chatting her up. She, likely being accustomed to being hit on college boys, even ones with the Clap, handled his flirty ways and means in stride. She asked how he was feeling and he said fine. She asked if he completed all the doses which he confirmed. She said he seemed to be recovered and asked if he had any questions. Before he brazenly asked for her digits, he said he did have one question.

“What was up with that suppository?”
“What do you mean?” she responded.
“Well, it said not to take with water but it tasted like horrible chalk. I could hardly get it down.”
Her, with tilted head, “You ate it?”
“Yes. The pharmacist said to take all of the doses.”

She excused herself and went into the hall. He said a few minutes later he heard loud guffaws of laughter. He assumed the laughter was based on the conversation that had just transpired but he didn't know why that conversation would be so amusing. He dressed quickly and hoped to evacuate the room before her return.

Not so lucky.

When she came back in, he simply said he would come back when the other physician had returned.

“Ok, Mr. K, and until then, I suggest you go home and look up “suppository” in the dictionary." He did. And after his mortal embarrassment that lasted for more than a year, he has been telling the story quite well ever since.

When in doubt, call the Nurse Advice Line.

And if you have never had the opportunity to learn first hand what a suppository is, let me give you a hint: Before you put it in your mouth, it is not a Flintstones chewable vitamin. And second, go consult your dictionary because if you call the Nurse Advice line, they will laugh hysterically when told you ate it.

Let's just put our libido back in the suitcase

A Mommy and Daddy take their 2 year old son to Cabo San Lucas. Mommy & Daddy (M&D) share a room with young son. M&D realize quickly the time change is going to be the catalyst to everyone rising VERY EARLY each day. The downside is when night time arrives and little man falls asleep, M&D might be extra tired too. M&D have not been able to have any "alone time" of the saucy variety. No pants party? Not happening.

One day, while little man is finishing breakfast, M&D decide to let him watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse as subterfuge so M&D can sneak off together.

Mommy and Daddy feel confident he will be enthralled since Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is toddler narcotic. Except they can’t sneak off too far just in case because Mommy is worried little man will open the sliding glass door he finds fascinating and walk right off the open patio. M&D decide to sneak into the hall where the large open doors of the armoire will block little man from seeing any adult shenanigans.

M&D attempt to hurry. M&D remain as covered as possible. That is not as fun as it sounds. But M&D are getting a moment and as M&D attempt to enjoy this rare moment of adults only time, they suddenly hear a voice.

“What are you doing guys?”

Mommy and Daddy look down to see a tiny face on the ground looking up from the 5 inch space below the open armoire door.

Daddy, every quick with a retort, says, “We are exercising!”

Little Man giggles and says, “You look FUNNY when you are exercising Mommy and Daddy!”

A witness while you do the hallway lambada? Not good.
The fact you are basically fully clothed though? Awesome.
That a voice would ask what it is exactly you are doing? Not good.
A quick cover up that you are exercising: Genius.
A child's commentary about that exercise? Not good for the libido. Or the memory. But especially the libido.

Children even seeing your exercise, even if they are only two at the time and likely can't suffer irreversible visual scarring?

Great motivation for putting your libido right back in the suitcase until you return home. Or at least until you get more creative.

Rewind: This must be your first worst date

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Talk dirty to me

When I was in high school, I briefly dated a college boy. Oh....I thought I was big stuff.

And lets be honest, by "dated" I mean that I thought he + me =TLF. Whereas he defined dating me as sending me lots of sweet cards and keeping my picture on his desk at school. The picture he would hurtle under a blanket or pile of books when after a long night of beer pong, he had company. Oh, young naive school girl.

But it paid dividends.

I went to see him one weekend when he was back in Seattle. After chatting with his family for a bit, he suggested we go to his room. Ummm, no thanks since your Mom and Dad are sitting here. He assured me he was considered a "man" in the house and they didn't care. Teenage boys...whats not to love about the bravado. It was a known policy in my house that males were not allowed in my room when my parents were home so I shirked his offer.

He then suggested we go to the park. Once there, it was all kinds of teen-age make out party. While I was not passing out the goods like candy, he definitively wanted to up the ante to our romantic interludes.  Mere make out and the manhandling of my training bra, probably not as thrilling as CoEd Twister but alas...

And then he leans in with a sweet kiss, hand cupping my face, and asks, "Do you want to go downtown?"

"Well," I pondered, "I don't think we have time."

"I don't think it will take that long," he assured me. Big sweet eyes all on me.

"But, with traffic, it will take us a lot longer..."

Our eyes locked and then he started laughing. Not a nice courteous laugh like oh ha ha ha...more like GUFFAW GUFFAW GUFFAW like a man with a front row seat to the premier of Eddie Murphy's RAW.

I ask him the source of his amusement.

He says: You

Me: Head tilt, confused.

Him: I don't mean downtown Seattle.

Me: What other downtown is there?

He: GUFFAW GUFFAW GUFFAW

and then says: This downtown. And looks at his lap.

Here is an excellent tip for college boy that I never shared: Laughing uncontrollably to the point you actually slap your leg and dry heave because I was unaware that by asking me to go downtown you were in fact asking me for a beejy humdinger is not nice.

PS: It is also the perfect way to ensure I will never go downtown.

PSS: I never believed you that it would be permanently injured by blue balls. Naive, yes. That naive, oh no.

Innocent little lamb I was, I dropped him off and went home. Bleat bleat.

Don't go in the water....

True Story. Names have been blurred to protect the not-quite-so innocent.

Man and Woman, about 30 years old at the time, have been dating for many months. They opt to go on a weekend getaway to Hilton Head, SC. Man and Woman spend one day at the beach during which a walk into the water turns amorous. Man and woman proceed to shoulder deep water in order to carry out their frolic.

Man and Woman's antics can not be noted from the beach or the lifeguards. Man and Woman appear only to be in a loving embrace while only eyes below the water level see their cavorting.
All is fine and good, if you think murky water is a great place to have an escapade.

Until, Woman says in a shrilly, and atypical voice, OHWAITAMINUTE. OHFORTHELOVEOFALLTHATISHOLY.

Man's response: Awwwww yeahhhhh

Woman: HOLD ON HOLD ON HOLD ON

Man: Awwwwwwwww yeah baby
(Man is apparently Marky Mark circa 1991. However, it is no longer nor has it been for a long time, 1991).

Woman: NO WAIT HOLD ON WAIT. Woman is bucking like Tuff Hedeman.

Man: Awwww yeahhhhhhhhh baby.

Man's ego is inflated exponentially

Man: Is this the best you have ever had??????????

Woman: YOU HAVE TO STOP. SOMETHING IS ZAPPING ME.

Man: Awww yeah baby...THAT IS MY LOVE ZAPPING YOU.

Woman makes a horror stricken face. This horror stricken face is in part due to something unknown and partially due to the fact that a grown man just said that is my love zapping you. Continues horror stricken face and begins dislodging herself from around Man's hips.

Woman attempts to run to shore. Woman remembers running in water is not only impossible, it is very ugly to watch. Woman does not care. Woman is in severe pain.

Man is dumbstricken. Man stands alone in water as Woman attempts to flee but merely looks as if she is in slow motion. Woman gets on shore and runs to Life Guard stand. She points to the water and exclaims, "I WAS ATTACKED BY SOMETHING!!"

Red welts cover her legs. She wants 911. She wants EMT. She wants ambulance. She wants George Clooney from ER.

Life Guard asks her what attacked her. Woman, who has no idea, whispers shark?

LifeGuard laughs. LifeGuard hands woman a liquid remedy. A bottle likely filled with a combination of urine and topical ointment to spray on the affected areas. Woman is not one bit happy.

Man finally arrives on the beach. Man is deflated, literally and figuratively, because what he presumed was his sexual prowess was in fact the reaction to Woman being attacked by several jellyfish.

Man checks on Woman to ensure she is not having allergic reaction. And then asks, "But that was the best you ever had right?"

Woman sprays man with spray bottle filled with urine/ointment cocktail. And then stomps away.

Lesson 1: Yet another reason why water can work against you during a tryst.

Lesson 2: Jellyfish...not an aphrodisiac.