Christmas Eve’s Eve

The envelope with my driver’s license hasn’t arrived at my office yet, so basically I am sitting here bored out of my skull until it does. It’s been amazing how quickly I’ve gone from enjoying so much time alone to rebelling against it, especially with coworkers I dig so damn much. The company is small, and most of the employees are related to each other in one way or another- some are in the CEO’s family, some are friends from church, etc. It reminds me very much of working for “the family business” back in the day as the doctor’s medical assistant. It’s just that this time, I’m working for someone else’s family, and hopefully I will become just as beloved as the other medical assistant I worked with, Vikki. She isn’t related to me, but might as well be. At the time we were working together, we both had Jeep Grand Cherokees, and every night when we finished our paperwork, I’d say, “Vikki, are we Jeepin,’ cause that’s how we roll?

I ended up selling my Jeep when gas went over $4.00/gallon in Portland, but I miss it SO DAMN MUCH. My favorite thing is that it was older, a 2001, so I could afford to have the one loaded out with every possible accessory that could have come on that thing. It even had driver presets, one for Dana and one for me… because as you’ll remember, I do not like to drive. Before we were even dating, the second driver preset was hers and hers alone. 🙂 Before I had my Jeep, I had a little Ford Focus that we drove everywhere. Her driving settings are much different than mine, and since it was less than a mile from my apartment to hers when we first started hanging out in earnest, I learned to drive with her settings for the five-ten minutes it took to get to her house, then sit in the passenger seat until she came down the stairs. It made Dana laugh every single time.

Which leads me back to the story of “Mr. Pops-a-Lock.”

Dana did not see a mattress frame that was carelessly thrown into her parking space at her complex, and she ran over it, popping one of my tires. Since I had roadside assistance, I called them to change the tire so we could go get a new one. The company itself was called “Mr. Pops-a-Lock,” but that became the boy who arrived’s nickname for all time and space.

Dana and Amy are waiting upstairs as I deal with the tire, and no lie, he was one of the cutest guys I’d seen in like, forever. Keep in mind that I am now *dying* laughing as I type this. I cannot get enough air into my lungs. I may pass out.

At the time, I was ridiculously single, so I didn’t think there was anything wrong with crushing out on a boy I’d never see again unless I asked him for his phone number. I was going to, and then he started talking. He had a lateral emission lisp, and I learned this when I asked him if I was ready to go with the whole tire situation and he said, “yesth, ma’am.” It was the cutest thing known to God and man, but then I thought about bringing him to parties and how I knew that every friend I had would pick up that lisp behind his back. It was so shallow, and so true.

So I go back upstairs and tell Dana & Amy this story, and of course when I got to the part about taking him to parties, they’re on the floor imitating him as well (see?).

It must have been a day or two later and I’d forgotten all about “Mr. Pops-a-Lock” when Dana and I started a game of what we call “Drunken Trivial Pursuit.” Basically, you start with straight whiskey or tequila so that the answers get harder as the night goes on because you can’t fucking remember them.

It comes down to the winning question, which was “what medal did Nancy Kerrigan win in the 1994 Winter Olympics?” Dana gave me a grin so evil that I knew something was coming, but wasn’t sure what…………..

She looked at me and said, “the thsilver.”

By then several shots of whiskey had been consumed, and what would have been a little funny sober left us gasping for air. Tears and snot were running down my face and I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even get any sound out.

Game. Over.

In more ways than one.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s