it takes two
Last night, when the Mermaid and I met on Mariahilfer Str. for an after-work shop-crawl none of us was in the best of moods (so what's new...). Some ten shops -I was good and didn't buy anything, she bought a pair of skinny black jeans from H&M's Madonna-collection - and a coffee later, we were giggling like two high school girls on speed. Or Red Bull, more like.
We both miss our weekly chlorine-scented bitch-fest as Stadthallenbad is closed for maintenance until September 3. Until then, we have to resort to other ways to vent our work/men/fashion crisis-related frustrations.
No matter where you put the two of us together, we communicate in code. The kind of code all good friends develop sooner or later. With some people, you click and find the same wavelength straight away, with others, you become gradually attuned to each other. La Mermaid and yours were thick as thieves back at school and are just as childish at the tender age of 34.
Yesterday, both of us were somewhat sleep-deprived which makes an interesting combination when you're given to talking without thinking first even on a good day. On the escalators of H&M, the Mermaid turned to me and began to say "As my daugther's kids always say..." Me: "??? Your daughter's kids? How come you never told me you had a daughter, never mind those grandchildren!" What she meant to say was "My cousin's kids" and I admit that it's only mildly amusing to an outsider, but it cracked me up all right and I launched into a firework of lame jokes of the "Gee, you must tell me the name of your plastic surgeon!" variety. Sitting in a café later, I told her "As you know, darling, I'm a very superficial person and I only go out with you because you're so pretty". "I know, honey", she replied, "and I love you because you're so dumb, my blondie."
That pretty much sums us up. Men might come and go, but there's nothing to beat inane conversations with the girl(s).
We both miss our weekly chlorine-scented bitch-fest as Stadthallenbad is closed for maintenance until September 3. Until then, we have to resort to other ways to vent our work/men/fashion crisis-related frustrations.
No matter where you put the two of us together, we communicate in code. The kind of code all good friends develop sooner or later. With some people, you click and find the same wavelength straight away, with others, you become gradually attuned to each other. La Mermaid and yours were thick as thieves back at school and are just as childish at the tender age of 34.
Yesterday, both of us were somewhat sleep-deprived which makes an interesting combination when you're given to talking without thinking first even on a good day. On the escalators of H&M, the Mermaid turned to me and began to say "As my daugther's kids always say..." Me: "??? Your daughter's kids? How come you never told me you had a daughter, never mind those grandchildren!" What she meant to say was "My cousin's kids" and I admit that it's only mildly amusing to an outsider, but it cracked me up all right and I launched into a firework of lame jokes of the "Gee, you must tell me the name of your plastic surgeon!" variety. Sitting in a café later, I told her "As you know, darling, I'm a very superficial person and I only go out with you because you're so pretty". "I know, honey", she replied, "and I love you because you're so dumb, my blondie."
That pretty much sums us up. Men might come and go, but there's nothing to beat inane conversations with the girl(s).
posted at 10:10 AM
2 Comments:
Do you have your own secret code words? My friend and I used to use "salad" in lieu of "naturally" or "ofcourse" (loooong story). We probably sounded like the biggest, saddest losers going around "salading" each other, but we were firmly convinced that we were in fact hot shit.
Our secret-code-word-story is even longer: I once told the Mermaid that as a kid I misheard the line in the "Ghostbusters" theme song, "I'm 'fraid of no ghost" as "einfrieren [German for "to freeze"] the ghost" which still cracks her up no end and e.g. after swimming, when applying body lotion she'd throw me a mischieveous look and say "einschmieren [to rub in/on cream] the ghost, eh?"...I like your "salad", btw!
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