Crazy socks

Crazy socks.
Helen K.
Feather.
How did he die?
Wiener.
Oven mitt.
Whore!
And you’re the mousse!
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Does any of that mean anything to you?

Because it means everything to me.

They’re words and phrases that represent memories. Really good memories.
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You know what I’m talking about.

You’re out with friends and someone shouts “Whore!” and everybody busts up remembering that crazy afternoon at the Moose Lodge when Heather got too drunk and started yelling bad words in front of the blue-haired ladies having their afternoon highballs.

We’ve all got our little catch phrases that mean nothing to most but can spark a smile or a spontaneous laugh in the right company.
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And the thing is, I’m guessing if I tried to explain crazy socks or the oven mitt or that mousse thing to you, you’d think: A) That’s not very funny and B) That’s not even very interesting.

But they’re my friends and my memories. I probably wouldn’t laugh at your stories, either.

Although I don’t care who you are, that ‘How did he die?’ thing is hilarious.
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I am listening to: What It Takes - Aerosmith
I am reading: The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
And I am: Looking forward to tonight