But after last weekend, I'm watching my back and I'd appreciate if you would watch it for me too.
Ok here's the thing and I'll try to make my long story sort of short. Or not really long but more medium-ish long. I agreed to host a luau at my home on Sunday for a lovely group of ladies from our church (allow me to interject that our church rocks, Crossroads Baptist) and as the youth group had recently had a Hawaiian themed gathering the decorations were a-plenty. After Doreen and I cooked a fabulous dinner for the family we set about luau-ifying Beck House to get everyone in the proper festive mood.
We're no slackers here, my friends. We're talking purple fish netting on the walls, life size palm trees and hundreds of leis. If it stood still, we decorated it. Not even the dog was spared.
I'm not sure we ever found our way to the bottom of the boxes, we ran out of energy before we ran out of decorations. We even found flowered hair accessories. Which we wore. All night.
Which brings me to what happened later. In and of itself it was harmless fun and yes, maybe a little kooky but we're like that. Doreen needed to run to B&N for a book and well, who am I to pass up a trip to the book store? So off we go, Hawaiian headdresses in place. En route to the store I decide I'm going to take mine off. If I'm going to be noticed let's pretend it's because I look hot in my sweaty t-shirt and shorts, not because I'm slightly retarded and wearing a ridiculous flowered lei in my hair at the local strip mall on a Saturday night. I remove it, fully expecting Miss Doreen to DARE me to wear it. You know, the famous "I bet you to... fill-in-the-blank-with-something-you-must-do-or-break-the-seven-year-run-where-neither-of-us-have-ever-turned-down-a-bet" thing. I figured hey, I'll just take it off, she'll dare me to wear it to the store, easy-peasy my betting turn is over and I remain unscathed. And even better it would now be my turn to dare her to do something dumb.
I take it off my head and wait. I wait. I wait some more. I'm thinking, c'mon Doreen, dare me! Dare me and get it over with. She says nothing. I say, again, "I am so not going to wear this." She tells me to stop being a baby and just wear the darn thing. So I do because I always cave to peer pressure.
It's a real testimony to how strange our society has become that no one gave us a double take. NO ONE. By the time we were at the register I was chatting extra long with the cashier, knowing she'd have to notice and admire the delicate white flowers of my headdress. She couldn't help but smile the way you do when you admire someone but are also a bit jealous.
Then she'd inquire, "Some party must be dull and boring until you two get there. I bet you're off somewhere fun and exciting tonight?" She would eagerly await our replies, happy to live vicariously through two fun-loving crazy ladies like me and D. And perhaps ask for my autograph. Nope, nada. She didn't even tell me to enjoy my book. And also, besides that, no one told me I looked hot in my sweaty t-shirt either. That kinda hurt.
We leave the bookstore somewhat deflated. We commiserate over chocolate almond fudge ice creams which does make me feel a little bit better. It's too late for a dare now so as chocolate dribbles down the front of my t-shirt and onto my shorts I casually mention how surprised I am that she didn't dare me to wear the floral headpiece.
She said, and I quote, "Oh I knew you'd wear it anyway. Besides, I have your next dare all planned out. And it is a good one. A very, very good one. One you won't soon forget, and neither will anyone else." Then in her sexy, raspy, evil way she laughs, "Mwah ha ha, mwah ha ha."
I haven't slept since.