mizChartreuse!

“Let’s go visit my ma next weekend, yeah?” Sean asked me on Memorial Day. I instantly agreed.

Saturday afternoon, we made the drive southwest to Whiting, IN, just east of Hammond. While I was excited for the change of scenery, there were a few things of which I was slightly unsure. I mean, it’s Indiana. Who goes to/LIVES in Indiana, anyway? Isn’t it a bunch of country-listenin’, cornfield-livin’, casino-goin’ weirdo hicks with pickup trucks that hate black people? Yeesh.

Not so much. Well, I’m sure those people exist in large numbers that side of Chicaga, but they probably live more out in the total boonies, further from town. It was a LOT of fun. But then again, we KNOW how to have fun wherever we go. Obviously.

It’s about an hour drive over the border from Pilsen to Whiting, and it was glorious. We departed Saturday in the early afternoon while the sun was still out, taking the beautiful route through the Loop, down Lake Shore Drive to South Shore Drive, tracing the lower perimeter of of Lake Michigan. I prefer that drive more than the million-foot high, $3 toll Skyway route. Much more scenic, and traffic-free both ways.

We found a cute dog toy for Sean’s ma’s new 10-week old pup pup, Jezebel, and finally arrived at Renee and her husband Phil’s house in the cute little neighborhood of Whiting.

Renee and Phil were sitting on the back porch with beebee Jezebel as we pulled in next to the garage. From her chair, Sean’s ma threw her arms up in the air as we parked, clearly gesturing, “What the hell took you so long? You said you’d be here in an hour two hours ago!” Hahaha.

Blame it on functioning on Lollygagger Time/stopping at three different stores for the perfect dog toy for a teeny beebee mini pinsch.

 

 

 

I walked up the sidewalk toward the house ahead of Sean, greeting Renee with a hug. “I’m so glad to meet you, finally!” she said. 

Then she stopped and looked at me. There was a 5-second pause, then she lifted up her glasses and really looked at me for about 10 more seconds. It was a REALLY LONG PAUSE and I was almost starting to feel uncomfortable when she said, in near astonishment, “My God, you’re so pretty!” and turned to her son to give him a kiss. I laughed. How sweet.

Renee is SUCH A MOM. It’s adorable, really. Jezebel is so tiny, and whenever the little pup pup would sit under the guardrail at the edge of the porch (she’s REALLY THAT SMALL), Renee would freak out.

“Oh, dear God!” she’d exclaim, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “She’s gonna fall over the edge; she’s gonna fall and hang herself on her leash!”

 

 

 

Phil and Sean looked at her.

“Oh, she’ll be fine!” Phil told her. “She’s a DOG!”

“Come on, ma! Even if she falls and is hanging by her neck, you’ll be able to walk down the six steps to pick her up in three seconds. IT’S OKAY,” Sean chimed in. We pulled Jezebel back from the edge and shorten the reach of her leash and Renee would instantly calm down. 

“What? I’m a worrier!” Then she leaned over to Phil, smiling, and said, “Oh, tell them about the time your friend came home to find his dog hanging in the backyard by the neck and it was too late! Oh, my God. It was a suicide!” she exclaimed. “It was an animal suicide!” We all cracked up.

[p.s.: Animal-rights activists and PETA enthusiasts, please hold your comments. It's A JOKE.]

We hung out on the back porch chatting for a couple hours and came in for a fantastic angel hair pasta dinner with a salad and garlic bread.

The meatballs were SO GOOD.

And the rest of the night was SO FUN.

Phil showed us photo prints of when he and Renee saw B.B. King, FRONT ROW, at the Horseshoe Casino.

“The buffet we had before the show was amazing!” he exclaimed. “All-you-can-eat for nineteen bucks–it was a great deal. But I was eating prime rib while SHE was filling up on this potato soup!”

“Oh, my God,” Renee said, eyes widening. “That potato soup was TO DIE FOR. It was SO good. You will never taste a better potato soup, trust me on this!  But you gotta pace yourself at buffets; it’s okay. You know, take a breather every now and then; go have a smoke in the smoking section in the center of the place.”

“Yeah!” said Phil. “The ventilation fan was so strong, your hair’d stand up on end!” 

At the mention of smoke fans, Sean and Renee interjected to tell us about their experience in the glass-encased smoking room Miami’s airport. Apparently it closely resembles a 110-degree, non-ventilated, rainforest-like monkey house with stone walls. It was crowded with nicotine addicts, while the rest of the airport was a chill 60 degrees.

“I wouldn’t be surprsed if people walking by the glass doors should have stopped and take pictures of all us damn fools doing that to ourselves,” they joked, dying of laughter at the ridiculous circumstances to which smokers subject themselves for a fix before a 2.5-hour flight.  

 

Anyhow, the prints from the concert were great! Their front row seats on the horn section’s side of the stage allowed for fantastic close-up shots of The Legend and his band. Whatta guy, whatta guy.

::

Phil went to sleep around 10:00, and Sean, Renee and I hung out at the dining table cracking up and busting one another’s balls while drinking beer. We were laughing so much and there were so many quotables, I couldn’t Tweet them fast enough. I took to a pad of paper and tried to scribble tidbits of hilarious conversation.

 

If you’ve met Sean even for a brief period of time, you know he’s ridiculous; and by ridiculous I mean loud, intense, and VERY ANIMATED. His coworker, Danielle, does a roll-on-the-floor (LITERALLY) hilarious impression of Sean which entails waving her arms in the air like a Tyrranosaurus Rex while yelling, “Rarrr rarrr rarrrrr! Bleeeeehhh bleeehhh BLEEHHHH!” in the loudest, most obnoxious voice ever.

I cried laughing. Seriously. 

And Renee is a mom-ly, outgoing, caring, and slightly neurotic (in the most endearing way, I promise) woman. I laughed a lot at both of them. It may be hard to believe whilst reading mere text; you had to be there–but trust me when I say that the insults they hurl at one another are yelled with the utmost love. 

 

 

Quotes from last night

 

Renee (to me and Sean): BE QUIET! PHIL’S DEAF!

The more we drank, the louder we’d become. This quote/mom threat varied throughout the night from “PHIL’S DEAF!” to “MY DEAF HUSBAND IS SLEEPING UPSTAIRS! WE’RE GONNA WAKE HIM UP!” 

::

Renee: (to Sean): You are such a lazy fuck. (Probably in regard to his filing his taxes late)

Sean: Can you quit it with the looks of CONTEMPT? Please?

::

Renee: You’re nothing but a dirty pig, have I told you that lately? (Probably in regard to Sean FARTING ALL NIGHT LONG. There was also a lot of, “You’re talking out your ass.”)

::

Renee: You’re SUPPOSED to bend OVER to light your farts! (In response [NOT from experience, of course] to Sean telling us about how in high school, he and his friends would light their farts on fire from between their legs while sitting back.)

::

Renee (astonished): You guys did shots of VODKA Saturday night at Charlotte’s party? Why didn’t you do shots of C.C.?

I don’t make the connection. Do I look like a Canadian Club whiskey drinker? Vodka is clearly my poison of choice.

Renee (after pausing for a moment): Let’s do shots of C.C. 

Ah-ha! She pulled out a bottle of the whiskey and a bottle of buttermilk schnapps. 

Renee (pouring into 1.5 oz. mini Coca-Cola shaped shot glasses): Now, I know this is bigger than a shot, but I’ll top it off with some butter!

Renee didn’t have any, but Sean and I downed them quite fast. It was yummy! The “butter” helped! Within seven seconds Sean put his hand over his mouth, gagging, and ran to the bathroom to puke. LITERALLY WITHIN SECONDS. Renee and I looked at each other in disbelief as Sean was hurling in the bathroom 30 feet away. Who pukes up shots THAT FAST?

Sean (coming out of the bathroom, half-sheepishly, trying to hide the fact that his vomiting woke the neighborhood): What? I can’t do shots of whiskey. Nor tequila. That shit INSTANTLY comes back up once it hits my throat.

Hilarious.

::

Renee: It’s not firm enough.

Sean: That’swhatshesaid.

Renee: You like it firm?

::

Renee (yelling at Sean as he prepared the guest bedroom, which was formerly Phil’s late mother’s room): Be careful! That’s my printer!

Sean: Fuck off!

Renee: That’s my PRINTER!

Sean: Fuck off, you goddamn prick!

Renee: You’re one lazy son of a bitch!

Sean: What the fuck do you want me to do? These blankets better not smell like old lady!

::

Gritting my teeth is like eating meat.
Next thing you know, my jaw snaps!

-A poem written by Sean’s younger sister, Hilary, when she was in elementary school. It refers to Sean and Hilary’s father, Jerry, who would clench his jaw whenever he was angry. Precious.

::

Sean: Remember the shit you used to feed us when we were kids? I remember in school when we would go around the class talking about what we had for breakfast. All the other kids would say things like eggs, bacon, cereal, orange juice…

Renee: You had iced tea and cookies!

::

Renee: You know how sometimes parents name their kids after places they were conceived, or things they like or want? For example, Chevy, or Lexus? 

Sean: Damn. If Char and I slip up and have an accident, we’re gonna have to name the kid Little Caesar! (I glare at him.)

Renee: You eat LITTLE CAESAR’S??? (gasps.) You must be POOR!

 

::

 

I really couldn’t keep up; it was nonstop hysterics. At one point, Renee busted out a giant framed poster of “BUSHisms” for Sean, including such classic quotes like, “Is our children learning?” and ”I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family.” 

(This one wasn’t on the poster, but it’s one of my personal favorites: ”There’s an old saying in Tennessee — I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — …you can’t get fooled again.”) 

 

::

We laughed, reminisced and joked for hours. I did two more shots of buttermilk C.C. as Sean and I showed Renee the hundreds of photos from the various venues of my birthday week–my house party blowout, my birthday night homemade dinner party (thanks to the lovely Rachel), salsa dancing at Lalo’s with Ange and Natalie, the Xpos softball game, reggae night at Subterranean with Kenya and Markus…

 

Somehow, Jay Leno came up in our discussion, so we pulled up his final Tonight Show episode on Hulu. Conan O’Brien was his last guest, and it was really funny. The recaps of Jay’s antics over the years (and 15-year-old footage of Conan when he was first starting out) were really cool to see.

Renee was such a trooper. And a trip. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. “It’s 10:30?” at 10:30. Then, “Oh, my God!” an hour later. “It’s 11:30?” We laughed. “What?” she smiled at us. She KNOWS she’s a trip. “Did I say that at 10:30?”

We didn’t go to bed ’til 3:30 in the morning. Time flew because we were having such a fun time.

“My God, I’m pooped,” she said to me. “This is gonna be one of those don’t-wash-off-your-makeup nights where you fall asleep instantly after hitting the pillow.”

I love those nights. And I love moms.