I'm pleased to present some of my favorite lines from the weekend:
"So there was this photo of me at a party with dip on the dildo, and I'm holding it up by my face all-smiling like--" ... "Yeah, and you could see just her husband's arms in the picture, grabbing her, like, 'No000oo!!'"
"They really need better ventilation in there. It smelled like Sunday Morning Dad Bathroom."
"While you were in there changing I was just kind of looking at this Ralph Lauren ad of a guy hugging a Golden Retriever, and it really made me want to call home and talk to the dog. I mean, I really wish I could call home and talk to Daisy."
"You mean we parked at the other end of the mall? Can't you just get the car and come pick me up? Just drive it through the mall? I don't care if you hit anyone."
"I still think Sai Ram is better. That whole thing with putting the napkins on your lap? And then with the steaming washcloths after we ate? I didn't like when they got all up in my bidniss."
"Yeah, there was this one guy who had sex with her, and later he held up his hands like he was measuring a fish and said, 'And her vagina was THIS. BIG!'"
"She's a VIRGIN, not a LESBIAN!"
"No, now hear me out. You need to go to Paris when he's not there. Because if he's there, it'll all be about him. You need to just go alone and enjoy Paris."
"I don't know, I guess you just don't really want to see your old high school teacher Mr. Hopkins in fishnets and heels, right?"
"So we brought him into the bathroom of the Mexican restaurant, and wouldn't you know? He really DID have one giant ball!"
"Basically, it was photos of smiling, innocent-looking faces next to photos of those same people lifting their poop up from the toilet with chopsticks."
And this is the story of how my novels end up with so much potty language. I merely reflect my own reality. Thanks to the two lovely book clubs I met with on Thursday and Friday, thanks to the Chinese and Malaysian seamstresses who so nimbly sewed all of the new shirts I bought on Saturday, thanks to our friends W & B for their hospitality on Sunday, and thanks to our waiter at Tapas on Saturday evening, who didn't laugh when we butchered the pronunciation of everything we ordered despite the fact that I had four semesters of Spanish in college.