The Unicorn Appears

Many moons ago, the LOML called me in a state of sheer, babbling wonderment…

LOML:  It’s just… I saw UNCLE RICO!!

Paneer:  WTF?  (distractedly)  We ain’t Napoleon, dude.  We don’t HAVE an Uncle Rico.

LOML:  (Sputtering)  It WAS HIM!  In little shorts and tall, striped 80s socks, flying over the hill on a bicycle!  He had a mullet, and a mustache, and…

Paneer:  (Pissed, because this is so not possible in his condo complex)  Stop telling fibs and move on.  Honestly.

LOML:  Why don’t you BELIEVE ME?!


Take Two:

LOML calls me AGAIN, with another ridiculous description of an Uncle Rico sighting…Knee high socks, tiny shorts, patentedly out of date t-shirt, mullet flowing in the breeze, zooming by on a bicycle.

Paneer:  Calling straight up bullshit on that, my friend. 


Recent night:

LOML:  We need a new movie.

Paneer:  Christ wearing long-johns, it’s 11pm.  (I am a damn old lady about being out after dark, unless it is a rare bar scene appearance.)

LOML:  Get in the car, hag.  (Perhaps, this is paraphrased.)

10 minutes later, in the shady parking lot that houses our Blockbuster and local Supermercado…

SHOCK.  and AWE.

LOML:  Baby!  Loooooook!

***A mystical, mulleted, mustachioed, middle-aged being sails through the parking lot on a 30 year old bike, wearing knee high socks with turquoise bands, tiny 80s gym shorts, and a tight t-shirt***

Paneer:  (Choked with emotion)  Egggghhhhadddd… Waaa… Wahhh…Was that…Uncle RICO?!

LOML:  (Triumphant.  Like, obnoxiously so.)  I TOLD YOU!!!  OH MY GOD, I TOLD YOU HE WAS REAL!!!!!!!!

Paneer:  (Shaken to the very core)  Wow.  Just…wow.  It’s like a unicorn.  Don’t speak.  Don’t ruin it.


It was glorious, people.  Simply.  GLORIOUS.


Early Dementia or Somesuch

Paneer: Heeeey!

LOML: Hey.  Did you get a movie?

(We live about 17 feet from a Blockbuster, so we still adhere to OLD-SKOOL movie rental stuff.  Except for–we have a thingy that lets us trade in an old rental for a new rental every time we enter the store for a low-low fee…  Is this bad?  We don’t do the RedBoxing or the WiiMovieing.  Are we the equivalent of Beta??)

Paneer: Um, no.  I’ve been running important errands all day.

(I pretty much had brunch with the Bro, got a mani/pedi and got my hair done–highlights and cut.  THIS IS F-ING RARE!!  And I *loved* it.  Where do I sign up for full time????)

LOML: *Napoleon Dynamite Sigh* Could you GET a movie?

Paneer: SURE!

(Shit, I’ve been getting my loveliness enhanced all day, bitch, I GOT THIS!)

Do you want me to get Hot Tub Time Machine? 

(Which you mentioned, like, 6 times in Blockbuster yesterday?)


(Paneer runs around, does laundry, cooks a big dinner–including paneer tikka masala, yo!, and straightens up the residence.  Yes, Paneer got a massage, but it fucking HURT.  And while Paneer was dizzy and barfy from the massage, LOML got a gentle cranial massage while said Paneer put dinner on the the table for the therapist and us.  WTF?!!!)


LOML: Ugh.  HOT TUB TIME MACHINE?! This is gonna SUCK!
Paneer: What the???!!  BITE MY ASS.  That 9/11 Edward Cullen movie was depressing as shit and YOU ASKED ME TO GET THIS!!!
LOML: Well.  I don’t think it will be that funny.

LOML laughs at movie.  Bitches intermittently, for effect, but laughs frequently.  Then, laughs more, at lame ass jokes–funny, but LAME.

Paneer: So, not bad, eh?  John Cusack rules.  (FUCKING UNDENIABLE)


Paneer: But you laughed SO MUCH!!!!!!
LOML: Yeah…No.  I love you, little girl!!  I’m going to bed!

HUH???  Holy Hell.