I spent much of the afternoon at the Mothership Barbecue, because the people I know were coming in shifts. First were the theater folks and then the Butcher showed up with my mom and dad and as they were meeting all the theater folks, Sarcastro showed up, looking strangely dashing.
The food was fabulous. Mom and the Butcher thought the ribs were better than the pulled pork, but Dad and I disagreed.
The playwright had meat for the first time in years, just based on my recommendation. Hopefully, she won’t get sick. The recovering Baptist and I were like “You’re just going to have to keep coming back until you get acclimated.”
But the best, ladies, is that there’s a naked picture of Burt Reynolds in the bathroom. It’s hilarious and sexy at the same time.
Go check it out.
The recalcitrant brother is laying on the couch ordering me around and bitching about how fast I type. He’s all like “You’re not even looking at the letters and I still haven’t figured out how to use your TV. How do I turn it on? What are you telling them? Are you telling them to come over here and clean your damn house? You know Mom and Dad are going to be here this afternoon and there are beer bottles everywhere.”
“Well, where did those beer bottles come? Maybe the men who drank them should have thrown them away.”
“Oh, no. It’s Saturday. The ole girl isn’t on.”
“The Oh Girl?”
“That ole girl on CNN. Robin Meade. That woman is a way to start a morning. The other day, she was interviewing that hot girl from the Food Network. Paula.”
“Paula Dean? You think Paula Dean is hot?”
“Is that the skinny Italian chick?”
“Um. Yeah, no.”