It happened. It's amazing, but it happened. The long awaited, long planned, many times rescheduled brunch finally happened. Mom and I, Taylor and Ramy, and Dee, all converged on Calabasas (Calabas-ASS, according to my GPS), in the cool weather and shocking sunshine at almost exactly the same time (who says you can never be on time in LA? Well, maybe not LA, but you can be on time in Calabas-ASS).
As prognosticated (see link above), there was much happiness, group hugs, laughter, idiocy, more hugs, and photos. I had warned everyone because some people don't like to be photographed without the appropriate accoutrements (make up, hair etc.). Dee says I made her, FORCED HER, to do her hair. But it was lovely, so it was worth it.
We discussed politics, and solved many of the country's ills in one lunch. I mean, seriously, what's taking the lawmakers so long? There was discussion about how men like to take pictures of their penis and texting said pictures to their paramours -- it's true, don't lie about it, we all know.
This came up because we were talking about football, and Green Bay in particular, whose mortal enemies are apparently the Vikings for whom Brett Favre now plays even though he was with Green Bay forever - WHORE! selling himself like that, it's like if Derek Jeter absconded to the Red Sox, I think it would cause a rupture in the space time continuum - and then talk naturally went to how he was having an affair with a reporter while his wife is undergoing cancer treatment and he was caught because - wait for it - he sent her a text of his penis. Yep. TO A REPORTER!! I mean, come on! Love is love, but heck, you're a reporter and you just got a text of Favre's penis on your phone. Smartphone: $300. Sexy lingerie: $80. Burning in hell for the seedy scoop of the month? Priceless. And totally worth it.
We also talked about Prop 19, Obama, the Tea Party (as we continue to ask ourselves which parts of the government, exactly, they would like to get rid of? cos it sure sounds like mostly anything they disagree with), immigration, the stupid way the TARP money was handled vis-a-vis the banks, pork roast, cupcakes, and the role of hypnosis in the curing of imaginary ills.
By imaginary ills I mean things like when I don't drink enough water, I get UTI symptoms, even though there is no UTI. It's probably because I've had so many, and I stave them off by drinking a lot of water, so my brain warns me when I need to drink more by making my body feel like there's a UTI coming on when there is not. Like that.
The consensus at the table was that hypnosis could be a useful tool to ungroove the brain of such an imaginary ill. And worst case scenario, nothing happens except for a few months every time someone says the words "pickled herrings" you start clucking like a chicken. Thankfully, pickled herrings are not a commong topic of conversation. Cluck, cluck.
Pictorial Representations to follow.
Mom, Dee, Taylor, Ramy, random lady with a purse.
Dee, Taylor
Me, mom, Dee, Taylor
Ramy yucks it up
Dee
Backlit mom