Anyway, in anticipation of our meeting up, Debbie sent me her cell number, which I immediately programmed into my phone. I knew she'd be writing a post about the Golden Globes and so as I was watching them Sunday night, I decided to text her some commentary like, "Angelina, easy on the lipstick!" and "Nicole Kidman: GODDESS!" and "Best gown so far: Jessica Alba."
I don't hear back from her, so I'm thinking maybe she doesn't recognize my number, so I text, "It's Linda!" Still nothing. Then finally I get this text:
"Hi, Linda. Well, thank you for sharing your night with me. Just one thing--I don't know who you are, though you sound like you're having a fabulous evening. Feel free to let me see through your eyes tonight's events. Take care, Gary."Gary???
Evidently I entered Debbie's number in my contact list with my area code, not hers. So now I have this new friend Gary...
And I have the nerve to call Debbie the whack job. I must apologize when I meet her.
Changing topics... Last Tuesday after eating my low carb lunch at Baja Fresh, I decided to roam around the Ross Dress-for-Less in the same plaza. I picked up a pair of those Sketcher Tone Up sneakers because, you know, I'm on this weight loss kick (140.8 this morning, who the eff cares) and so I'm at the register and the cashier, who's probably 10 years older than me, says,
"Are you in the Tuesday club?"Now, because I'm a Ross frequent flyer, I know what the Tuesday club is--they give a discount on Tuesdays to people 55 and older.
I was like, "Seriously, you fucking bitch? I'm not even 54 and a half yet."
Okay, I didn't really say that. I just shook my head, took my receipt and said, "See you next Tuesday."