“Ladies” Luncheon

When the hostess escorted us through the upscale restaurant, and out to the patio to seat us, she had no idea of the shit storm known as Four Girlfriends Meeting For Lunch that was about to hit.

I’ve known these girls for many years, and when we get together, there is no shortage of (loud) conversation, inappropriateness, laughter, and over-ordering.

The conversation always starts out with the basic catch-up session, the what have you been up to-how’s work-how are the kids-how’s your husband type of banter. Then, seeing how I am now the only one without a husband anymore, the conversation always turns to the sooooooo, how’s dating? And the vicarious questioning begins. I spend some time entertaining them with a few stories I’ve accumulated into my repertoire, and it’s a whole new ballgame having fresh meat in the mix of conversation.

After all of that has ensued, the storytelling usually begins. “Remember the time…” which leads to raucous laughter. Always. It’s like a game of one-upping the level of inappropriateness to see who can get the biggest laugh. I don’t hold much back when I write, but seriously, there are things that were thrown out there that even I would be embarrassed to repeat. It was that awesome.

We were off to the races, and there were no holds barred as we kicked off with the topic of butthole waxing, Nairing, shaving and bleaching. Who the fuck would get their butthole bleached in the first place? What a fucked up profession, to be a butthole bleacher. I said that I would just use a Crest White strip, and we laughed loud enough to get our first round of disgusted looks from the surrounding patrons.

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One of the girls had actually tried to put Nair on it, which was a great idea, until the horrifying burning kicked in. Good times! Then, as we’re all classlessly snort laughing, one of the girls pulled up a very enlarged photo of a bleached asshole on her iphone, and laid it on the table, face up next to her glass, as the waiter approached to fill our iced teas. There is no way he didn’t see it, we were fucking dying, because we are all super mature.

The high point of the day however, was when my 31-year-old, very petite, blonde, Tori Burch wearing friend, told the following story.

“Guys, ok, so the other day I was in the shower and I felt something on my butthole. Seriously, I freaked because we have so many ticks around our woods and I was like how the fuck did a tick get on my butthole? I was seriously freaking out, and mortified because I had to ask my husband to look at it and pull it off! (We are all in hysterics with tears rolling down our faces at this point) So, totally humiliated, I bent over on the bed and he looked at it. He pinched it and started to pull it off and was like “Fuck! Dude! It’s attached!” It hurt so fucking bad, and that is because it was a hemorrhoid, not a tick.”

Oh. My. God. Kill me. I’m dead.

The laughter was so intense it was silent, and only tears ran down our faces as I actually peed myself a little, I couldn’t breathe. A hemorrhoid. Dear god, it doesn’t get any funnier than that. Just the image of her very clean-cut husband pulling a tick/hemorrhoid off of her asshole was the funniest fucking thing I had ever heard. We laughed loud enough that they should have kicked us out. Our only saving grace being that our over-ordering and enormous check kept our annoyed waiter more concerned with his tip than the 12 adults having a family reunion luncheon right behind us with their eyerolls and horrified expressions.

The moral of the story? There isn’t one, but that shit is FUNNY!

51 replies

  1. These are fucking good times. I love this.

    “The laughter was so intense it was silent, and only tears ran down our faces.” = the best kind of laughter.

    And the iPhone-butthole story. That’s classic. I mean, I would kill to be there, just to ask the waiter what he thinks that is on that iPhone.

    I mean, to hear a waiter say “bleached butthole” on the job. That’d be hilarious.

    I fucking love this!

  2. Ew, and OMG, seriously? I used to get my heehaw waxed( I now attempt to shave with the most amazing Japanese electric razors called ‘Clean’…no joke) and she’d always ask, “do we do the rear?” and I’m like, gross, no, the front is painful enough!!!!

  3. Tracy,
    I just don’t know what to say. And funny enough (and talk about an interesting reflex), I’ve been going up and down this comment thread to see if Rich had commented, as if he was an expert on butt bleaching, ticks, or hemorrhoids.
    Le Clown

  4. The butthole bleaching and removal of hair I think is the realm of porn stars, really. Women will put make up on and make themselves look as good as they can if they know they are going to be on TV or getting their picture taken–sooo…porn stars like to spruce up the nethers when they know it’s going to be on TV. TV adds 10 pounds and never shows you in a flattering light, you know. I imagine without bleaching the butthole, it probably looks way fatter. And darker than it really is. *snerk*

  5. You know, even if I had the misfortune of experiencing this I don’t think I could ever tell my friends. How absolutely embarrassing must that have been? “Hey, honey, I figured out why it won’t come off!” Yeah. Oops…

  6. tracy, ” the laughter was so intense, it was silent” and only tears ran down our faces. the girls I used to work with and I were like that. we did everything together.
    that IS the best laughter. the i phone story reminds
    me of the things one girl in our crowd would do.
    we had the best times ever and none of us were
    married, so you can imagine !
    I loved this story.

  7. In my book, the shit storm known as four girlfriends meeting for lunch would be called “the Bad Table,” which is a good thing.

    I am adding “bleached butthole” to my accumulating list of favorite phrases.

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