Monday, July 29, 2013

(this post isn't really about) Ping Pong

It all started with a distress call. One of my best friends of all times texted me words that I'd expect only from her.  Dangerous words, the ones we all have a mental list of. So we can avoid them. Words like:

"We need to talk."

"Do you know how this got here?"

"Can I be completely honest with you for a minute?"

The text said,

"Want to sleep over tomorrow night? We need to have a ping pong convo!!"

Yep, that bad. I know. Ping pong convo is what M and I call the conversations where we stand on either side of her ping pong table or mine, smacking the heck out of that poor little white plastic ball and venting about boys. Or being excited about boys. Sometimes both. Those ones are intense. They usually involve a cute guy cozying up to M, or, a few months later, said cute guy being a jerk to M. Sometimes stuff happens to me, but mostly I just listen a lot. I also enjoy a good whack at the ping pong ball.

Don't get me wrong, I like these talks. I like the drama (what can I say? Life gets boring) and also we usually end up having a deep, meaningful conversation that makes us both feel a lot better. But to have a ping pong convo is a bit of an emotional investment.

Fast forward a few days to M's front porch. I was ready. I wasn't in my ping pong convo gear (sweatpants big enough to fit a whole household for post-match snacking gorging) because she told me we were going dress shopping. I rang the doorbell and waited a    l    o    n     g      t      i     m      e     for someone to answer.  I got nervous. I saw a replay of the shirtless brother incident coming on.

Sorry, recap.

The Shirtless Brother Incident

(doorbell rings)

(Shirtless brother answers door)

Me: Hi, is (why aren't you wearing a shirt it's January?) M here?

Shirtless brother: No . . . you might want to give her a call . . . this is weird because I'm not wearing a shirt.

At which point I proceeded to go back to the car and call M. Anywhoo . . .

Someone answered.  It was a male someone. Please have a shirt on, please have a shirt on, please be wearing a shirt, please don't be partially naked. 

It was a guy friend of mine, who doesn't usually live at M's house. Oh, I guess he's going to go dress shopping with us . . . and sleep over . . . and have a ping pong convo . . . 


A surprise party for moi, apparently. Did I mention my birthday's coming up? I didn't handle it well. First there was the squeaking. Then the crying and the hand waving and the awkward standing . . . I CAME here for PING PONG! 

But it was fun.  And my friends are some of the best. 

Even if they are sneaking, behind the back, secret keeping liars. 

Want more weekend fun? Check out this Weekend Shenanigan link up with Sami's Shenanigans!

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