So yesterday I took the day off work to take care of Baby since Nanny needed to deal with some immigration stuff. It was mostly nice except the part where it was 103 degrees and we only have air conditioning in one room of our house. I took this opportunity to try out having best friend #1 and best friend #2 over for dinner. It was a trial run before TV night begins at my house in the fall. TV night is when Best Friend #1, Best Friend #2 and I meet at one of our houses and drink lots of wine and talk loudly over our favorite TV shows. It used to always be at best friend #2's house, because she has a nice HD TV and a husband who will make himself scarce. Since I had Baby, I figured it would be easier to have it at my house, especially now that we moved and have Parisian cafe to hang out at before and after our TV viewing.
While sitting around the Penis fountain in the Parisian cafe Best friend #1 asked:
"Could you be a stay at home Mom?"
She asked this while at the same time looking at me and shaking her head "No" like she already knew the answer. With my feet propped up in the fountain, blue nail polish gleaming in the evening candle light, I pondered the question.
"well" I said, "probably not, because I am not much of a cleaner..."
I kept thinking of Husband coming home and remaking the bed earlier and washing the one bottle left in the sink. Have I mentioned that Husband has a cleaning issue? The problem seems to stem from the fact that I don't have a cleaning issue. I guess I don't mind if the house is messy, but Husband was apparently thinking the house would look like it does when Nanny is home with Baby. Did I mention that Nanny is also a clean freak? I'm doomed. I hate cleaning. I find it utterly exhausting. Especially while hanging out with Baby. I don't know how Nanny does it quite honestly. For this reason I'm not so sure being a stay at home Mom would work out for me, unless of course Husband got a lobotomy.
Later that evening while feeling sorry for myself and thinking about this during Best Friend #2's monologue about work, the girls upstairs pranced by. Lets not forget that the neighbor girls upstairs are all three: 20, in college, and hot.
Girls upstairs also have names like Isabelle, Shiloh and Natalia. Do what you will with this information, because I'm sure the mental images of collegic-esque bond girl bombshells come to mind, and no joke you would be pretty darn close to correct. So during best friend #2's rant about the injustice of why our boss thinks he can leave every other week to go back to Virginia to spend time with his family, even though our production is based in L.A, an assembly line of beautiful 20 somethings traipsed by the Penis fountain to head upstairs. It seemed that Isabelle was having a get together. The 20 somethings seemed to be confused as to where they were going and were under the impression that the three 30 somethings (me, best friend #1 and #2) were where the party was at. The latest to walk by was a size zero brunette who I could have sworn I'd recently seen on the cover of Lucky Magazines June issue. Best friend #1 gave me the "there's another one! Are you kidding me?!" look while best friend #2 went on business as usual with her work grievances. By the time the last of the 20 somethings walked by- a cute guy clearly gay and filling out the fabulous quota for the group, we were on our second glass of wine. So when Tyrone introduced himself saying it was nice to meet us, was Izzie around? I felt flattered that Tyrone thought us good enough to be part of the Isabelle entourage. I leaned back out of my lawn chair and slurred "Nice to meet you Tyrone!"
"The parties upstairs" Best friend #1 said through her smile. I looked at Best Friend #1 and #2 and felt proud. Here we were, three old middle aged married women being confused with Isabelle's hot friends, Hot Dog! This was turning out to be a great night after all! So what if I don't clean-at least I'm hot enough that in dim candle light around a penis fountain I may or may not resemble a 20 something party guest!
...It just goes to show, you never know what will happen at the Parisian cafe....
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