Last weekend, I flew to New Hampshire for the second annual meeting of Pinky Tuscadero’s Assassins. There were reps from Kansas, Colorado, Minnesota and Massachusetts. We even had reps from the Netherlands and Nicaragua. Our power is that far-reaching. So, what do the members of the PTA do when they convene? We eat, drink and plot world domination. Last year’s meeting was all about caipirinhas and Cheetos. This year’s meeting was all about caipirinhas, martinis and chocolate Pocky. Actually, I like to call it The Pocky because it deserves reverence. I’d heard about The Pocky before but had never had it so when we invaded a grocery store after some time in an airport bar – it was clear that The Pocky would be mine. Let’s just say that I ate A LOT of Pocky. I am 75% Pocky and 25% human at this point. I’m like a Pocky Borg. I know this is true because I took the "What Kind of Pocky Are You?" quiz and the answer was Chocolate Pocky. No further evidence is needed.
At some point after the initial Pocky purchase, some PTA members went to the store for more provisions (i.e. The Pocky, Cheetos, Tacos at Midnight and Cachaça) and came back with Yan Yan. Yan Yan is kinda like The Pocky but the sticks of biscuity goodness are plain and come with a frosting dip on the side. We had strawberry Yan Yan and, well, it was gross. The frosting sat out in the open air for two days and never changed in consistency. Ingesting something like that seems like a bad idea – even peeps get stale if you leave them out. The Yan Yan sticks have little sayings on them which I did enjoy. The first one I pulled out of the container said, "Eat more carrots". The Yan Yan may taste like shit but it is wise, wise beyond measure. I ignored that sage advice, however, and did not eat a single carrot all weekend.
After two rounds of strep and another round of lice...wait...did I tell you that we had another round of lice? I don't think I did. Well, last Wednesday evening ( twelve hours before I was supposed to be at the airport to head to New Hampshire), Miguel said, "My head really itches." With those ominous words, the most frenzied pre-trip shenanigans began. By the time I arrived at Lake Winnipesaukee, I was an exhausted, fragile mess. But, the good thing about old friends is that they look after you. They remind you to take your suitcase with you when you leave the airport bar. They show concern when you get tangled in your own jacket in the handicap stall in public bathrooms. Hypothetically speaking, of course. They say nice things to you and give you chocolate from their stash if you cry. The best thing about old friends, though, is that they are not above shooting you in the face with a water gun when you are peacefully and innocently sitting on the couch drinking a caipirinha with The Pocky hanging out of your mouth. That is true love, people.
Now, I'm re-energized and ready to pick up the blogging pace. I'm sure my commitment to writing will last as long as my Pocky stash holds out.
p.s. I wrote a new post for Grace the Spot about World Cup Soccer - check it out.