thank god for tj.
tonight his parents volunteered to watch rozzy while we went on a date night. this was great since this is how many times me and tj have been to dinner alone since she was born: 0. he had an italian joint in tinley park picked out which was fine because i am obsessed with italian. when we sat down i asked tj where our menus were. he explained that there was no menu and pointed to the walls that were covered in chalkboards that had the choices written on them. i started reading all of the choices - but i was saying them in an italian accent. that is just something i have to do. had we been at a mexican restaurant i would have been speaking in a mexican accent. (also known as spanish.) now, for those that know us, you can imagine this scene: i'm yelling out "cannoli, fettucini, tortellini..." and i'm cracking myself up. meanwhile, tj is looking at his phone. (probably googling the next golf course he will play and talk about non-stop for the 6 days afterwards.)
i said "you know, if this were our first date i would never go out with you again. i'm sitting here having fun and you are staring at your phone." then i said, "that's what we should do: we should pretend like we are on a first date!" no sooner had those words escaped my mouth when the waitress sat down a caprese salad in front of my face. i immediately picked up my fork and shoved one of the tomato slices (whole) in my mouth and inhaled it. then i proclaimed "oh-my-god-this-tomato-is-the-bomb!" next was the mozzarella chunk, then the olives... "tj - you will NOT believe how much this cheese and these olives are the bomb!" then i started hysterically laughing at my (over)usage of "the bomb." and then shoved yet another piece of olive-oil drenched bread in my face. then i started really laughing.as i had oil dripping down my chin it had dawned on me exactly what kind of date i would be. i'm loud, i crack up at my own jokes, i eat like an ethiopian in the military, i do horrible accents, and i still say "the bomb."
at that point i decided to try to be less larissa and a bit more sexy. i said in a deep, sultry voice (that in retrospect actually sounded more manly than seductive) "i guess if we are on a date then we need to have some desert." tj laughed at my pathetic attempt at being sexy, but played along. "oh yeah?" he asked. i started my response in the sultry (manly) voice, but it quickly turned into a hyena scream: "yeah... how about the POUNDCAKE?!? BLAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" well, every time i laugh i either pee myself or i about do. this time i was lucky and i excused myself.
while in the bathroom, i decided to take my underwear off - it's not what you are thinking. the bottom line is that i have no business putting size 6 panties on my size 11 ass. the fried zucchini i polished off was more than that little piece of floss could handle - i had to get them off asap. of course, i didn't have my purse so i had to ball them up (which was actually the shape they had been in all night, except not in my fist) and walk back out to the table holding them. and of course, i didn't just walk thru the entire restaurant casually - no, i walked through giggling with an i-am-holding-my-underwear-in-my-hand expression plastered all over my face.
as we were walking out to the car i said, "my lord i feel so free!" tj said, "why because rozlyn isn't on your hip?" i said, "no because i took my underwear off." i proceeded to tell him what i did in the bathroom and why. even after hearing about my fat hips, watching me laugh at myself with oil-dripping down my chin, and listening to his almost 31-year old wife say "the bomb" 42 times, he took me for ice-cream.
best. date. ever.
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