Talullah Part II: Her brush with death (or I gotta go where???)

A few years ago my friend Talullah was having a little shortness of breath and finally decided that maybe she might want to go to the doctor. I didn’t hear from her but I heard from our friend Leilani, who called me and said, “Talullah just called me crying and said the doctor said she had three pulmonary embolisms.”

What????? Three…pulmonary…embolisms?????? One is enough to kill you and she had three? That’s our Talullah…always trying to “one up” everyone.

See Talullah had recently went back on birth control pills (WHORE!!!...just kidding…whatever) and they had resulted in the blood clots that found their nasty, little way to her lungs.

I got in the car the next morning and headed south from Maryland to North Carolina. When I got there Leilani (who is an actual mother) informed me that Talullah had a follow-up appointment with her gynecologist the next day and I had to go with her. Not just go with her to the office…go with her to the appointment!!!!

What???? Oh hell!!! What’s worse that going to your own gynecologist appointment?? Maybe going to your best friend’s gynecologist appointment with her. I kept thinking, “I wish Willow was going to be here. I would just make her go.” Willow was on her way but wouldn’t be there until after the appointment….damn her to hell.

I had to admit that Leilani had a valid point. She had already lived through Talullah’s back surgery and knew that Talullah was notorious for not asking questions either because she didn’t want to know the answers or because she has the tendency to get, as she calls it, “tore all to hell” and forget to ask questions.

So the next day we head out to the gynecologist. We sit down and wait for her appoinment. There was hardly anyone else there waiting. Thank God because I felt like we looked like some kind of weird lesbian couple. We looked like an even weirder lesbian couple when the nurse called her back and we both got up. I looked at the nurse, smiled, and nervously said, “I’m here for moral support.” They had no idea that Talullah had just lived through three pulmonary embolisms so she just looked at me like “Whatever!! Freaky lesbian!!”

We go back to the consultation room and sit down. Let me interject right now that she was not there for an exam; she was there for a follow up with the doctor to see how she was doing. Had below the waist nudity and stirrups been involved, Leilani would have had to threaten my life to get me to go.

The door opens and a band of angels start to sing as the doctor walks in. Wowwee…Zowwee!!! Both Talullah and Leilani had told me he was a looker but….Wowwee…Zowwee!!! Not at all what I’m normally attracted to either. I mean….he’s a little bitty guy but….Wowwee…Zowwee!!! I guess he was packing some serious mojo!! There is no way I could be locked in a room with this man, strip naked, and let him check out my "girlie bits". Not unless there is boom-chicka-wow-wow music playing in the background.

So he looks at me like “Who are you and WTF are you doing here???” so Talullah starts her sob story about her little blood clots and how they almost killed her. Blah…blah...blah. I was more insterested in “el doctor”...*eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx*...but I did start asking questions becaue Leilani would have killed me if she found out I went there and just sat like a lusty lump.

He got up at some point and left the room. I can’t remember why…maybe because my eyes were boring a hole through him and I was mentally undressing him? When he left I looked at Talullah and said point-blank said, “I want take your doctor as my luvah.” Now I should have waited to say this until after the appointment was over and we were back in my car. But nooooooo…I have to say it right then when he’s going to come back into the room at any second. We have a tendency to get the giggles even when looking death straight in the eye like Talullah had done but somehoe we were able to hold it together when he came back in. I think it’s because I was mesmerized by his mojo.

In the end we both lived through the experience of going to the gynecologist together. I was able to ask all the pertinent questions, while Talullah sat there “tore all to hell”, and make sure her health was fine. The ultimate outcome was that she would never again take birth control pills because of the risk of blood clots. If she was going to ride the Lone Ranger’s baloney pony that pony better be wearing a a good latex saddle. (Serious note: We all know this already, right? The only way to protect against creepy crawlies is to use condoms. I feel like my doctor is standing over my shoulder reading this as a write. She hawks condoms more than a Trojan vendor. Just one time I would love to hear her say something like: "You know to use the cock sock, right??" I would lay on the floor and roll around with laughter…really, I would!)

As we were leaving I noticed that the birds were singing a little louder, the sky was a little bluer, the sun was a little brighter, and I had this modified version of Mr. Rogers “Neighbor” song going through my mind…..

It's a beautiful day in this luvah-hood,

A beautiful day for a luvah,

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

It's a luvah-ly day in this beautywood,

A luvah-ly day for a beauty,

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

I have always wanted to have a luvah just like you,

I've always wanted to live in a luvah-hood with you.

So let's make the most of this beautiful day,

Since we're together,
we might as well say,

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

Won't you be my luvah?

Won't you please,

Won't you please,

Please won't you be my luvah?

My friend would live and I was in a deep state of lust. Does it get any better than that without there being food involved??

Boom chicka out out...

Buy those cookies.....

I've already ordered mine. Hell, I was afraid not to after seeing this!! That little bitch is scary!!

The dirtiest word ever

Recently, through the wonders of Facebook, I've reconnected with an old friend from elementary school. We went to school together through 5th grade and then she moved away....far away to another state. All the way from Virginia to Tennessee. Not really that far but when you're a kid that has rarely ever left your own hometown she might as well have moved to a different continent. It's been a real joy to chat with her again after all these years and I was thrilled to get to see her again a few weeks ago.

A couple weeks ago I remembered when she introduced me to a bad word. I guess I was marked for life because I've never forgotten that conversation!

We were standing in line in the hall one day. I don't know why we were standing in line but it now seems like that was a regular occurrence. We stood in line to go outside....to get a drink of water...to go to the lunch room...to go to the bathroom. No idea why we were always in lines but we were.

Anyway...we were standing in line one day when Trina said to me, "I know the dirtiest word ever."

I was intrigued. Well I'm not sure if you can be intrigued at the age of 8 or 9...maybe I was more fascinated. I mean she knew the dirtiest word ever!! What could it be????? I had heard words like shit, damn, hell, and ass. Was it one of those? Did I already know the dirtiest word ever and didn't even realize it?? I HAD TO KNOW!!!!!

"What is it?" I asked.

She leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I can't say it but it's spelled F-U-C-K."

I looked at her and asked, "What does it mean?"

She replied with a shrug, "I don't know."

And that was it....Trina had shared the dirtiest word ever with me! Here I was in 3rd grade with a new wealth of knowledge. I knew the dirtiest word ever but didn't know what the fuck it meant.....

Chick out...

Let me tell you about Tallulah (part I)

Before I start my story I’ll give you a little background on my friend Tallulah.

I’ve known that there was a Tallulah walking the earth since I was five years old and we started kindergarten together. We rode the same bus. Well, to be more specific, we rode the same bus until Tallulah quit kindergarten. Yes, she was a kindergarten drop-out but that’s a whole other story.

I guess that I forgot that she existed until we were in 2nd grade. I remember that Tallulah had all her hair sheared off and I thought it was somehow the outcome of her suffering from rheumatic fever (she really did have rheumatic fever). I was sooooo wrong. Her uber-short hair was the result of a rabbit hunting incident gone crazy bad. She rolled off the hill with a head full of burrs and her mother cut off all her hair, stuck a wig on her head, and hid her under the bed. I’m not kidding. Talullah’s father comes from a holy roller religious background and he didn’t want “the baby” to have short hair. Needless to say, that day there was holy roller hell to pay in their house.

In 3rd grade I got to know Tallulah a little better. She shared her Tiger Beat magazines with me one day. She was sooooo cool.

Then a few weeks later I decided she was a show-off and spoiled brat. We had tennis lessons and the instructor told her she had a great backhand and she said something like, “Yes my brother taught me.” Of course, to me she sounded all snooty like she was little Miss High & Mighty…sort of like Blair from The Facts of Life. Here she was with her fabulous 3rd grader backhand and I was playing with a wooden racket that came from Western Auto. In my mind she was an uppity, nine year old bitch.

Then in 4th grade I decided to all out hate her. See she was walking around at lunch holding the hand of my best friend. WTF? Friend stealer…hate you!!!! Go to hell….hate you!!!

Sixth grade was our definitive moment...it was make it or break it time. We were lopped together in what has been documented as our worst year in elementary school. We hated our teacher, Mr. Sheets. I can’t even type his name with out the words ass and hole coming to mind.

Being the ever imaginative children we were we had other names for him….Mr. Shits and Bald Bastard (aka BB). Have I mentioned that Tallulah was a professional curser at a very young age?? I think she got paid by the word. She had a checkbook cover that had “Shit! Overdrawn Again” on the outside and we thought it was hilarious. Here she is an 11 year old kid not only with a checking account but with a fairly obscene checkbook cover. She was cool again!!!

We bonded over the trauma of having a teacher that was a bald bastard and became best friends….way back in 1979…..30 years ago!!!!! Wow I wonder what the 30th anniversary is for best friends??? Let’s see for wedding anniversaries 1st is paper….5th is wood….25 is silver…I guess the 30th for best friends is probably something like toilet paper or granny bloomers.

Over the years we’ve laughed together, cried together, shopped together, lived together, eaten together (many, many times), mourned together, and even thought we were going to die simultaneous Elvis-like deaths (on the toilet that is) after eating some particularly bad chicken parmigiana at a favorite Italian restaurant.

Tallulah is one of a kind. She will lay down her life for you and literally give you the shirt off her back. If you’re a fine looking man she might even throw in her bra and panties. I’ve seen her give and give and give and never expect anything in return. She is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.

Unfortunately, when we were in college Tallulah’s mother died. Over the past 20 years three of us have taken over the role of mother-type figures for her. One is an actual mother and the other two of us are pseudo-mothers whom no one should even trust to take care of a hated pet. We’re a motley crew…that’s for sure and certain!!

Later I’ll tell you a story of a period in time when we three mother hens came together to take care of Tallulah. It was a scary time but somehow it was friggin’ hilarious too. Imagine that…

Chick out...

How I got my first bra

My father came from a pretty large family. He was one of eleven children. Eleven children!! How in the world did my grandmother do it??? Granted she had nothing on Michelle Duggar but all of her children were born before 1950 and at home. I think that’s pretty impressive.

Of those eleven children only three are left now. Unfortunately, two have passed with in the past 5 weeks...my aunt just before Labor Day and my uncle just last night. You would have to know my father’s side of the family to understand that they are maybe the most hilarious family in the world. Where do you think I got it???

They had a lot of hardship. Most were born before or during the depression. My grandfather was an abusive alcoholic. Several of my aunts and uncles were alcholics. The family is riddled with suicides. Doesn’t sound too festive, huh? Well many of them did pretty hilarious things…either by accident or intentionally.

Her are a few examples:

My aunt was and is still a terribly shy and backward woman. When she went on the first date with her now husband they went to a drive-in. She was too backward to tell him she needed to use the bathroom so while he was at the snackbar getting them some food she peed in her pocketbook. Yep…my aunt pissed in her purse.

My grandmother heard my father whistling as he was walking home one time and decided to jump out and scare him . She scared him alright. He statched up a chair sitting in the front yard and hit her over the head with it. He obviously didn’t hurt her too badly…she lived for another 40+ years afterward. (Note: I had never heard this story until my father died. Someone that grew up with him told us at the wake. We all had a much needed laugh.)

My aunt that died over Labor Day was unfortunate enough to be named Gary. Yes, Gary? She had a boys name and hated it. One year at the beginning of the school year she went in on the first day and was spelling her name Geary. Her teacher told her she was so stupid she couldn’t spell her own name. She never tried that little trick again.

My aunt bought home a chick in a paper bag from the fair one time. They told her it probably would live through the night. They were wrong. That chick grew into a rooting, tooting, crowing rooster. Unfortunately, she didn’t live on a farm so her rooster roosted on a kerosene heater in a shed out back and had the run of the yard…she lives in the middle of town.

My uncle that died last night was a master of the gag gift. His favorite was to wrap up a huge pair of panties. When I say huge, I mean huge…humongous...size 14. Many of my cousins received this gift for birthday gifts and bridal or baby showers. Not a traditional gift but one that everyone came to expect. He never gave me a huge pair of panties but he did give me my first bra. I think I was probably five or six years old. It was a yellow training bra. This was well before I had boobs so he got it for me as a joke.

So on this day I remember all my relatives that have passed but in particular my uncle who gave me my very first bra. How many girls can say that???

I know that right now my father, my grandparents, and all the rest of my family that has passed are celebrating his arrival. I wouldn’t doubt that he showed up with a huge pair of panties for every one of them.

Chick out...