I have a fairly new friend that was brought into the single gal “fold” a year or so ago. Willow works with this crazy lady named Gia. Gia is not a single gal…she is more of a single gal emeritus. She’s married with kids and just recently became a grandmother. A very young grandmother, I might add. I have to say that because she’s only a couple years older than me…not because I’m afraid I’ll offend her by telling the 3.5 people that follow this blog that she’s a “granny”. My point is that she’s not a “blue hair” who frequents the podiatrist to have her corns trimmed and eats every meal at a cafeteria. She’s YOUNG…just like me…
Okay now that we have that straight…
Somehow Gia and I get along well. I’m not sure how because we’re both alpha females who are anal retentive, control freaks. You would think after 5 minutes in the same room we would devolve into a mass of hysterical, hair pulling women but we don’t. I think it’s because Gia is more of an alpha, anal retentive, control freak than I could ever dream to be. I literally have to bow to her like she’s the queen of alpha, anal retentive, control freak women.
So Willow and Gia plan a trip to Baltimore to visit me this past summer. I had no idea what was in store. Normally, Willow and Talullah show up and we laze around like princesses for a few days and I pretty much tell them what we’re going to do. I’m an alpha…I’m anal retentive…I’m a control freak…they go with my flow.
When I heard that Gia had concocted a homemade travel guide I was brought to my knees. Finally, someone who would keep me on my toes!!!! She made a travel guide!! Who in the hell does that???? Gia does…
She researched the area through every reference she could find. She wrote everthing in a spiral notebook. She told me what she wanted to see. She was pulling things out of her ass that I had never even considered!
One thing she wanted to see was the Washington Monument in Baltimore. Yes, we do have a monument to our first president right here in the Mount Vernon area of Baltimore. A quiet picturesque area far from the madding crowd of barrel-of monkey tourists at the Inner Harbor. She knew everything about it. When it was started…when it was completed…how many steps to the top. By the way…there are 228 steps to the top. Know how I know? Well first of all, Gia told us. Then we went in and a very effervescently happy man working there told us again. Then...we...climbed...them.
Now 228 steps doesn’t sound too awfully bad but let me paint you a picture. It’s July in Baltimore. It was a fairly hot and humid day. We were climbing up a tall, skinny monument that has no air conditioning not windows. The steps are steep, short, and narrow. You have to walk single file because there’s only that much room. None of us was “in shape”. Pretty, huh????
We should have at least done some stretching, deep knee bends, or bong hits before we tackled those stairs. After about 50 steps I thought I would die. At around 100 steps we met someone coming back down. WTF?? There is no room to pass unless you become part of the wall. On top of that I was carrying a purse the size of China. What was I thinking? Three quarter of the way up I had decided that we were clinically insane. Why would we choose to do this? We were covered in sweat, breathing like a herd of antelope, and miserable. Finally, we reached the top!!!! Hallalulah!!!!! I cleared the sweat from my eyes, looked out the windows, rejoiced.
Then I realized….we had to go back down…228 steps. Fuck my life!!
We made it back down. The effervescently happy man heard us coming. He was cheering us on as we literally slithered down those last steps. He even gave us high fives as we finished up. You would have thought we had just finished the Boston Marathon.
We had climbed to the top of the Washington Monument and back down and lived to tell about it. We were the queens of the monument. We wanted to lay in the floor and drown in our own sweat.
So if you’re ever in Baltimore, stop by the Washington Monument. Give it a long, hard look and take a couple pictures. Then jump in your car and drive the hell away before you get rooked into climbing it. Believe me…my booty still screams in pain every time it sees a set of steps. I'm convinced my ass is suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.
Chick out…
Okay now that we have that straight…
Somehow Gia and I get along well. I’m not sure how because we’re both alpha females who are anal retentive, control freaks. You would think after 5 minutes in the same room we would devolve into a mass of hysterical, hair pulling women but we don’t. I think it’s because Gia is more of an alpha, anal retentive, control freak than I could ever dream to be. I literally have to bow to her like she’s the queen of alpha, anal retentive, control freak women.
So Willow and Gia plan a trip to Baltimore to visit me this past summer. I had no idea what was in store. Normally, Willow and Talullah show up and we laze around like princesses for a few days and I pretty much tell them what we’re going to do. I’m an alpha…I’m anal retentive…I’m a control freak…they go with my flow.
When I heard that Gia had concocted a homemade travel guide I was brought to my knees. Finally, someone who would keep me on my toes!!!! She made a travel guide!! Who in the hell does that???? Gia does…
She researched the area through every reference she could find. She wrote everthing in a spiral notebook. She told me what she wanted to see. She was pulling things out of her ass that I had never even considered!
One thing she wanted to see was the Washington Monument in Baltimore. Yes, we do have a monument to our first president right here in the Mount Vernon area of Baltimore. A quiet picturesque area far from the madding crowd of barrel-of monkey tourists at the Inner Harbor. She knew everything about it. When it was started…when it was completed…how many steps to the top. By the way…there are 228 steps to the top. Know how I know? Well first of all, Gia told us. Then we went in and a very effervescently happy man working there told us again. Then...we...climbed...them.
Now 228 steps doesn’t sound too awfully bad but let me paint you a picture. It’s July in Baltimore. It was a fairly hot and humid day. We were climbing up a tall, skinny monument that has no air conditioning not windows. The steps are steep, short, and narrow. You have to walk single file because there’s only that much room. None of us was “in shape”. Pretty, huh????
We should have at least done some stretching, deep knee bends, or bong hits before we tackled those stairs. After about 50 steps I thought I would die. At around 100 steps we met someone coming back down. WTF?? There is no room to pass unless you become part of the wall. On top of that I was carrying a purse the size of China. What was I thinking? Three quarter of the way up I had decided that we were clinically insane. Why would we choose to do this? We were covered in sweat, breathing like a herd of antelope, and miserable. Finally, we reached the top!!!! Hallalulah!!!!! I cleared the sweat from my eyes, looked out the windows, rejoiced.
Then I realized….we had to go back down…228 steps. Fuck my life!!
We made it back down. The effervescently happy man heard us coming. He was cheering us on as we literally slithered down those last steps. He even gave us high fives as we finished up. You would have thought we had just finished the Boston Marathon.
We had climbed to the top of the Washington Monument and back down and lived to tell about it. We were the queens of the monument. We wanted to lay in the floor and drown in our own sweat.
So if you’re ever in Baltimore, stop by the Washington Monument. Give it a long, hard look and take a couple pictures. Then jump in your car and drive the hell away before you get rooked into climbing it. Believe me…my booty still screams in pain every time it sees a set of steps. I'm convinced my ass is suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.
Chick out…
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