Are You Inviting Me to Hooters Dress-Up Day?

So then…I pop another chocolate at work and pause mid-contract when it hits me: “Oh, shizznit! Did I forget to RSVP to lunch tomorrow with my friend Lindsey?”

I dash off a quick email to her:

Did I email you back to say that Tuesday would be great because I have to go to Vegas for work on Wed-Thurs —

and then you emailed back to say ok how about Tuesday at 12:30 at one of the Westlake restaurants –

and then I emailed back to say that sounds great —

and then you emailed to say that you wanted to coordinate outfits and that you’d be wearing purple and green stripes —

and I emailed back to say that Tuesday is my “Dress Like A Hooters Waitress Day” and I couldn’t deviate from the routine —

and you sent me your therapist’s number —

did all that happen — or am I hallucinating again?

Lindsey emails me this response:

No, you did NOT rsvp and you left me hanging –

making me wonder if our friendship was over or you found someone to replace me –

leaving me to think that I’ll never get a chance to wear my new purple and green striped sweater –

and thinking that had I said something to offend you –

or maybe you said something to offend me and were worried that it had gotten back to me –

so to avoid being uncomfortable at lunch thinking “does she know or does she not know” you just decided NOT to rsvp.

So then I cracked my tooth and need a crown (this part is true) –

and my appt is at 9:20 tomorrow and will take 2 hours and then I’ll be numb and feeling crappy –

so I’m very much hoping you can meet me on FRIDAY and wear blue stripes and a red hat.

Please rsvp.

And this is why Lindsey and I are friends. She totally gets me.

Of course, there was the time she was clearly hitting on me —  and we have a long and colorful history of memory challenges regarding our get-togethers.

But whenever we do meet, it’s loads of laughs. And the occasional Dress Like a Hooters Waitress Day.

— Darcy Perdu

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(Is YOUR memory struggling to keep pace with your hectic life – or is it mired down in a fog of excessive wine and chocolate consumption? You agree that Lindsey was totally hitting on me that time, right? Have you “dined” at Hooters, dressed like a Hooters gal – or own Hooters? Do tell!)

Beara Self Portrait 380

Introducing….Sarah-Jayne from Brisbane, Australia: writer of Beara 

I’m delighted to share one of my newest sponsors with you, especially since she’s funny and quirky and odd – all the things we love!

And creative! Check out her incredible self-portrait she drew up above!

I totally cracked up reading her true tale of the Pee Bandit – and oh, how I could identify with her childhood stealth and misdirection in efforts to elude discovery!

When you read 30 Things I Did Before I Turned 30, you’ll want to invite Sarah-Jayne over for margaritas to hear the raucous tales behind each wild item.

Sarah-Jayne describes her blog Beara in this way: “A writer who doesn’t write (enough), an artist who doesn’t art and a comedian who doesn’t… comedy. Yep. Content includes anecdotes taking place in one of the many different places she has lived or about the many different lives she has lived. She has been a small redheaded child with a big imagination and a penchant for pee. She has been a culturally confused white teenager with an unquenchable thirst for shitty cask wine and gangster rap. She is currently a confused and somewhat awkward adult trying to come to grips with being the only one of her friends not keen to have kids or (it seems) maintain any semblance of a 5 year plan. Sometimes you’ll also see images she takes with the two cameras she owns and maybe a song or two that makes her feel weird and good.”

You’ll instantly recall your own carnival and state fair experiences when you read her descriptive Exhibitionist story.

Shakin All Over is a lovely lyrical memory of a major discovery – the words will just tumble right over you and you’ll feel like you’re there, experiencing it with her.

Hope you enjoy visiting Sarah-Jayne’s Beara site for her unique perspective and funny stories!

Thanks, Darcy Perdu