I realize that a blog should probably be linear, moving from event to event in time. However, Chris is the skilled one, all I have is my prose, and my prose is current. With that said, flash back to 2000...
When I was 22ish I lived in Manhattan with a dear friend. It is safe to say that our largest budget items were rent and entertainment. Entertainment meant going downtown to various bars and clubs on the weekend. We had our favorite haunts (mostly dive bars) but would occasionally glam it up a bit at a place with stemmed glasses, fancy bathrooms, or all white leather couches. Seriously, there are clubs that are entirely white. Many of these adventures generated ridiculous stories that live on to this day -- the time our limo hoped the curb and took out the trash can, for example, or this one.
On the night in question we had friends in town so the festivities started early and, well, ended "early." Late into the evening we were on a corner somewhere on the Lower Eastside trying to get a cab and a preppy young man politely asked us if we would like to purchase some drugs. "Firesale(!)" he said. He just wanted to get some money for a cab too! Ah, the days before everything took a credit card. My roommate intercepted him and simply said, "Thank you, sir, but nothing up the nose!"
Words to live by, really.
Tonight, as I am preparing the second course of dinner, I heard some escalating fussing from the twin table. From across the room only a sliver of the pea was visible. I've heard enough stories of toddler ER visits to know that I was lucky to be able to retrieve this particular vegetable. After all was said and done we spent a while talking about how things come out of the nose but shouldn't go into it, Charlotte.
In other words, nothing up the nose(!), sweet pea. Though I may need to emphasize some of her other nicknames for a while.
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