“Just FYI …

23 May

… my boyfriend is taking a shit in the woods.”

This is just one of the many messages written on a scrap of paper that I unfold, read, and laugh aloud at daily at my desk.

I’m not sure how many are in the handmade box, and I dread the day I run out.

The notes are part of a going-away present given to me by one of my favorite students and best friends, JC, who spent who knows how many hours jotting down random quotes, facts and anecdotes relating to our lives. The idea was that I could read one each day. I love my little tequila-box-turned-decoupage decoration, even if we two are the only ones who know what secrets it holds.

Summer means a slow time for me, and a chance to catch up on reading. Along those lines, I’d like to write more, and it occurred to me today that these notes would be a perfect chance to write a little about our many amazing adventures and probably just stir some emotions and thoughts about my life. She knows me so well, Baxter …

So here’s the story behind today’s note (the hope being that I salvage one daily this summer and write just a bit about it):

One of the (secret) epics of my life is simply known as Bubba Keg Day. I will save some of the details of that saga for a later post, and also hope my mom never seems them, because she would shit. It’s a story best told in chapters: Chapter 1, A Last-Minute Decision (Prompted by PK Bringing a Roadie into Our House Because it Was Officially Noon); Chapter 2, The River’s Mouth; Chapter 3, Exploring the Cave; Chapter 4, The Mysterious Turn-Around No One Actually Remembers (so that’s going to be a really short chapter); Chapter 5, Possibly the Cave Again? We’re Really Not Sure, But Definitely PK Skis With His Teeth; Chapter 6, The Flash; Chapter 7, Remains of the Day; Chapter 8, The Wagoner Sonic. The Epilogue shares its title with a film known simply as “The Hangover.”

So today’s note is the story of Chapter 6, The Flash.

After engaging in activities in Chapters 1-5, which in summary include taking five gallons of frozen margaritas onto the lake, we arrive, sloppy and sunburned, at Party Island, a nasty little spit of sand known for its drunken revelry and, presumably, lots of Girls Gone Wild-style flashing. We nose up and gun the boat onto the sand in a narrow spot between about six million other boats. It’s a fleshy, boozy carnival of gas, girls, cigarettes, a few unfortunate children that DHS had not yet picked up, and us– the Fab Five. Needless to say I’m wildly uncomfortable, and Ol’Boy never wants to leave. I’m not sure what led us to trapse up the sand, but the girls went walking and along the way ran into a girl waist deep in the water who warned us not to go any further on the island because, “Just FYI, my boyfriend is taking a shit in the woods.” There was something really hysterical to me about this buxom, mermaid-ic chick rising up out of the water to fill our ears with such filth that we promptly ran back to the boat to fill the boys in.

I decided to engage in a complete re-enactment just to show how funny it had been, and when I thrust myself up out of the water, Budweiser-girl style, my tube top popped off and slid down to my waist. Fortunately, the only person paying attention was our party, and the only member of that who HADN’T seen my ta-tas was PK, JR’s boyfriend. He was so embarrassed he couldn’t even compliment my fabulous rack. Poor guy was speechless.

Ol’Boy just turned to him and said, “Well, I guess now we’ve got something else in common.”

He always knows just what to say.

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