Candy
July 1st, 2008
Our phone number must be similar to that of a woman named Edna, and let me tell you: Edna gets around. I’ve received multiple phone messages confirming dates with Edna, despite the fact that our answering machine CLEARLY STATES, “Hi, you’ve reached ADAM AND JONNA” and at least twice a week — sometimes daily — I answer the phone for people seeking Edna and at least half of them are men who are clearly in the twilight of their lives in search of what sounds like a … a … well, it sounds like a mid-afternoon booty call, which is I guess what happens when you’re too old to stay up past 8 p.m. Today, a gentleman caller offered with a laugh, “Well YOU sound pretty! Do you want to have coffee? I’ll tell Edna to take a boot in the ear!”
This is all somewhat related to the fact that a quick glance at Google made me realize that I fall into the demographic of the … cougars. I’m … I could be a cougar? I think being a cougar requires a firmer waistline and a lot more swingy hair, and while no, I didn’t harbor any notions that I was young and nubile, being mocked as a potential dating prospect by the younger generation is a bit of a slap in the face. Thank God I’m married, is all I’m saying. This knowledge comes on the heels of the fact that I realized that I can no longer watch MTV without getting an enormous headache from the agony and woe that has befallen the youth of our nation. I weep for you, youth of our nation. WEEP.
Thank you for all of the tips re: the washing machine situation, and for the record, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, I was talking to my mom on the phone and idly started doing an empty hot vinegar load and realized too late that I just filled the washing machine with two cups of red wine vinegar instead of the white vinegar I intended to grab. This is information you all probably have already, but red wine vinegar smells like a salad and it lingers. Ergo, while my towels no longer smell like the inside of someone’s ass, they DO have the vague sensibility of a salad bar.
Which reminds me of the OTHER big thrill this week, which is that we discovered a restaurant that has — my fingers are trembling at the memory — a Salad BALLROOM. That is, it has an entire ROOM devoted to all things Salad Bar and say what you will about salad bars and their cleanliness, a) I’ve never had a problem (oh ha ha, let’s JINX OURSELVES, why don’t we?); and b) I’m not particularly squeamish and I don’t eat things like say, CHUNKS OF HAM resting in a mysteriously viscous liquid. (I honestly just gagged. GAGGED). No, no, I stick to the uh, salads and fresh-type things, but mostly, I’m after the accoutrements like soups, pickles and croutons. Also, there is c) like anything, you should only eat salad bars from reputable places and this place is KNOWN for its SALAD BALLROOM.
Anyway, where I was I? I was distracted by the grand ballroom of salads. Ahem. What I meant to say before I got caught up in all of this Salad Talk was that not only does my washing machine smell like a freshly tossed salad (and wow, that works in every possible meaning of that phrase, doesn’t it?), but when it reaches maximum spin, it shakes the entire house — most specifically, our bed — like a 1970s-style PORN BED. It would be pornier if it were more subtle, and also if, say, the windows weren’t rattling off like a train was whizzing past the station. And all this is a rather daunting challenge for a person who loves to do laundry as much as I.
And with that, I’m off to watch more Dexter and pass out into the drooly abyss where I may or may not drown myself, but not before I make a surprise trip to the grocery store, because someone, I swear to God it’s not even ME, thought I said “Skittles” when in fact I’d said I’d bought “Sunkist” and is now lying supine like Cleopatra demanding a married-people joint trip to the store for Skittles. And who I am I to refuse a CANDY-RELATED ROAD TRIP?
Happy Wednesday!
*Poi Dog Pondering, which was given to me on a mix by my friend Andy, whose father is a dentist and hits the bong EVERY NIGHT before he goes to bed. HA HA. That kills me.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
24 Comments Add your own
1. Sara | July 1st, 2008 at 6:09 pm
Is it reassuring to know that I read your comments and diligently ran a BALSAMIC VINEGAR load earlier today? Because I’m not saying I did, but I might say that if it would reassure you. You know, for solidarity, because HAH! Who mistakes balsamic for white? NOT ME, NO SIR. Especially since balsamic vinegar stains the porcelain washer drum kind of a poop color! I would never do that!
(HELP.)
2. Swistle | July 1st, 2008 at 6:21 pm
OMG, we are COUGARS? I HATE that! Cougars, I think of as women in, like, their late forties or early fifties, all over-styled and over-designers. We are still cool, eligible chicks….right?
“Boot in the ear”—ha ha!
3. Jakki | July 1st, 2008 at 6:32 pm
EVERYTIME I peruse your blog I am bowled over by the interesting topics…first was the raping of the ass and now we have the tossing of the salad…i may just have to bookmark you…LOL (as if I havent)…
Why do I think of Ms. Garrett from the Facts of LIfe when you say Edna????
4. She Likes Purple | July 1st, 2008 at 6:57 pm
Adam insists on married-people trips to the grocery store? HE AND MIKE WOULD BE BEST FRIENDS.
He whines and begs and pleads for me to go with him—to the store, to Fry’s, to the gas station, ON ALL STUPID ERRANDS—and it’s not really for my company (like he claims) but so he’ll have someone to complain to ALL THE WAY THERE that we have to go in the first place.
5. Danielle-Lee | July 1st, 2008 at 7:01 pm
Boot in the ear? I thought it was boot in the ass. Hmm.
I never thought toss salad in a washing machine. I learn new things from you every day.
6. jonniker | July 1st, 2008 at 7:19 pm
Jennie: HA HA HA. Yes. I have to go with him EVERYWHERE. And it’s not remotely about my company, either. Unless it means he doesn’t have to SUFFER ALONE.
7. slynnro | July 1st, 2008 at 8:16 pm
According to D Magazine, you can be a cougar at any age past like high school, so long as the age difference is enough. So don’t be so hard on yourself.
And I’m always trying to get Aaron to go to the grocery store. He won’t. Maybe we can trade?
8. Sadie | July 2nd, 2008 at 3:42 am
RED WINE vinegar? HA!
Even better is Sara’s balsamic load. Load! Tossed salad! 1970s-style PORN BED! Your site is a dirty Googler’s dream.
I feel like it’s only fair that a cougar should be at least 40. And I am entering that zone where I am the annoyed woman in the bar who young men approach and I say things like “you’re a baby. You’re younger than my baby brother. Please.” I HATE being that woman, but seriously. There is nothing about a 22-year-old boy that isn’t stupid. Except maybe his abs.
I would totally go to a Salad Ballroom with you. I steer clear of the meat chunks and egg salads but I will clear out the croutons and bacon bits while you turn your back. It’s a pity you can only put one kind of dressing on a salad, I WANT THEM ALL.
9. Jill | July 2nd, 2008 at 4:41 am
I thought one was only considered a cougar if one was actively going after younger men, right? So just because we’re no longer a sprightly 22 doesn’t mean we’re cougars, because we’re not preying on 20 year old boys, right?
I mean honestly, do cougars really sit around discussing laundry-smell-reducing techniques? I think not.
10. ali | July 2nd, 2008 at 7:59 am
just the word cougar makes me feel dirty.
and not in a good way.
11. Andrea | July 2nd, 2008 at 8:18 am
Excuse me while I stop choking on my own drool over the Salad Ballroom. I would go there with you, though I don’t eat the green eggs and ham stuff either. Pickles. Croutons. Sunflower seeds on my salad. Olives. Mmmmm. Oh, and if they have a good assortment of salad crackers? I’m so there.
Damn. Makes my lunch sound seriously lacking now.
12. elise | July 2nd, 2008 at 8:25 am
For some reason, this random assortment of randomness has made up one of my favorite posts ever. So, thanks for that! And enjoy the Skittles.
13. Jen | July 2nd, 2008 at 8:44 am
When we first got a new phone number for our house, it was one digit off from the local bagel shop. After a few 5am calls about making bagels/picking up bagels/can you send us bagels?, I finally changed numbers. And now our number is one digit off from the local alarm company. Now we get regular calls from panicky people with alarms screeching in the background. SUCKS. At least you are getting delightful gentleman callers!
Also, I am still cracking up over the vinegar mishaps. Salad dressing in the washer! Ha!
14. jonniker | July 2nd, 2008 at 8:59 am
HA HA SARA. I forgot to comment on the BALSAMIC VINEGAR LOAD. (oh my, that sounds DIRTY, doesn’t it?)
15. Kristin H | July 2nd, 2008 at 9:42 am
Our work number is very close to the local Social Security office. People call and blow right on past the fact that we’ve said “Blackstone Laboratories” when we answer, in their haste to tell us their SSNs. I tell ya, it’s a good thing we’re honest over here.
I am drooling over your salad possibilities. They had a place like that in Denver that I loved. Now I am stuck with Pizza Hut salad bars, which sadly no longer even have chocolate pudding. Woe.
16. carolyn | July 2nd, 2008 at 11:46 am
I’ll take salad smell over ass any day of the week.
BTW, I gave you a shout out on my blog if you would like to see your name in lights.
17. Mauigirl52 | July 2nd, 2008 at 2:04 pm
I love a great salad bar. With multiple varieties of croutons.
I have a huge confession: I had to Google “cougar” to find out what on earth it was. I am so out of it.
And I agree, if you’re not actively preying on young men, it shouldn’t make you a cougar.
18. Leaf, probably... | July 2nd, 2008 at 4:24 pm
I did not know about the white vinegar thing. Of course.. if I had known about it you know that before now I would have done the same thing. We don’t even own white vinegar. It would have been red wine or balsamic for sure.
I did once (accidentally) put a packet of menthol cough lollies through our washing machine and drier. Our clothes were minty fresh for weeks.
19. H | July 2nd, 2008 at 6:03 pm
Did you watch Wipeout yesterday? Did you see the cougars? What did you think of the cougar in her cougar onesie? All I can say is OH MY.
Have a terrific 4th! I’m going to a lake cabin where there’s no internet, barely visible TV reception and cell phone service if you stand in the opening in the trees and hold your cell over your head. I need to get away but I know I’m going to go through withdrawal.
20. claire | July 3rd, 2008 at 5:08 am
Oh my god i HAVE to go to a salad bar for lunch now. HAVE TO. I AM COMPELLED.
Thank you for that though, because it’s much better than say, needing a cheeseburger.
21. metalia | July 3rd, 2008 at 9:24 am
We apparently have the same phone number as a lazy gardener, who, judging from the irate messages we receive on his behalf, does not show up when he is supposed to.
As for the cougar thing, please, please tell me you’ve seen the SNL “Cougar Den” sketch? Hilarious.
22. winterwheat | July 3rd, 2008 at 11:13 am
I hope the towels weren’t white.
Your description reminded me of one of the funniest paragraphs in all of literary history, from David Sedaris’ essay “True Detectives.” It goes something like this (quoting from my very faulty memory):
“That fall our household was rocked with a series of crimes no amateur detective could hope to crack. Someone had taken to wiping his or her ass on the bath towels. What made this exceptionally disturbing was that the towels were already fudge colored to begin with. I might spend 20 minutes sniffing my towel only to discover that this time, the asshole had used the washcloth.” And on it goes.
Towels, tossin’ salads, too funny… I’m surprised you didn’t slip a douche joke in there to capitalize on the vinegar.
And who decided this cougar scheme? I don’t think you can truly be called a cougar until you’re at least 40, and that’s even a little young. What’s so crazy about a 30-something woman hooking up with a 20-something man? *scratches head*
23. dadshouse | July 4th, 2008 at 3:56 pm
As a single dad navigating the wacky modern dating scene, I don’t begrudge mid-day booty in the least! But the wrong number… that’s just a bummer (for all involved, including you) Funny post.
24. Jennifer | July 5th, 2008 at 1:35 pm
I don’t get the “Cougar” thing, please post a definitive definition website for us all!! Is it about age or clothes or trolling for younger men? Or all or none of those? Is this a definition only reserved for women?
And now I’m worried because, since I graduated from Washington State U, that makes me a “Cougar” anyway (like, you know “Go Cougs” and all that. Hey I was even in the marching band.) So now I have to be careful of telling people I’m a COUG, as in a WSU grad, oh I’m so confused! (Have you noted my email address???)
And I’d really be into that mecca of salad bars. Do they have fresh artichokes in there as well as marinated tofu? Ahhhhh….
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