June 18, 2008
Girls Gone Child
I've often wondered what boys talk about at sleepovers, whether it's about girls or football or embarrassing Chemistry class erections. I know what girls talk about, and can vouch for the fact that it doesn't change much from the time you're using a Strawberry Shortcake sleeping bag to the age at which you slip into teddies for bed. It certainly wasn't too different for three of us making the long drive home on Saturday from Rehoboth Beach.

Two of us had lost our dads, so that became something that was associated with the in crowd, and the other girl then had to deal with our inappropriate death humor for the rest of the day. It's the kind of stuff you can mock when it's you, like "look how fat my fat, fat ass is today," but should someone else say it, you want to make meatloaf out of her face. I'm not sure how it happened, but poor Aimee had to endure us making jokes about her living father, which over the course of the hot day dissolved into jokes about us, her dad, and dirty, sweaty sex. We're so evolved.

Early on I mentioned my passion for all things true crime, and one of the two women revealed that she has been in many a crime show re-enactment, which of course immediately gave me visions of licking her face. Was she a star? Oh yes, she said, in one of the shows she played the actual killer. I'm pretty sure it's understood that news of this nature makes you my new best friend, and that I will now attach myself to you like a leech until I suck you dry of every bloody detail. Turns out she doesn't have a copy of that performance, but says that when her big episode airs, she gets calls from friends asking, "did I just see you strangling a child on television?" And she says yes. Yes you did.

Through a fierce rainstorm and some hydroplaning in the darkness of Delaware, we divulged our greatest fears, including inadvertent bowel movements, cyborgs, mean ghosts, year-round Christmas stores, and The Creature from The Village, which looks harmless to me but may someday may leave another on the verge of adult bed wetting. One of the girls flipped off an 18-wheeler in the darkness behind us and was treated to a lecture from me, because it is a well-established fact that psycho truck drivers begin sharpening their killing weapons when angered by sorority girls on back country roads.

We spent the last hour asking each other poignant, challenging questions, the kind that reveal the depth of three bright 30-somethings on the verge of braiding each other's hair.

Would you rather sweat mayonnaise or malt vinegar?

Would you rather gain 40 pounds that you will never lose, or live in the countryside until you die?

Would you rather be locked alone in a year-round Christmas store or break down overnight on the side of this road?

Would you rather walk in on me having sex with your father or wake up to That Thing From the Village standing over you?


Awesome. Then the interrogator upped the ante by adding, "and That Thing From the Village? It's standing over you . . . WITH AN OUTSTRETCHED CLAW" - the detail of course designed to make it infinitely more menacing than just a boar's head in a cape, which of course it did. The move was so successful, actually, that when I pulled up a picture of said Creature on my blackberry and fooled the driver into taking a look, she went into a hands-off-the-wheel panic and nearly ruined the chance of any of us living to have consensual sex again. We clapped at our success. The joy of knowing the weaknesses of your friends.

The road lit by lightning, we talked about bad Ouija board experiences and the fact that a man was once shot to death on the front porch of my building. Another shared a close encounter with an apparition in a Savannah hotel hallway. We managed to scare the bejeesus out of each other for two straight hours and each vowed to sleep with lights on to ward off cyborgs and monsters and animated Santas. Let the record show that I indeed slept with the lights on that night, but only because Aimee's dad likes it better that way.


21 Comments:

Blogger t2ed said...

I saw that Thing from the Village, but he had a hook on his foot.

And what do boys talk about at sleepovers? Our feelings, hopes, dreams and secret insecurity that our bodies may not be perfect.

Blogger Skyzi said...

I need to hang out with my girlfriends....why is it not acceptable to have female sleepovers without leaving town, without being called a lesbian?

Blogger Jitters said...

This might be my favorite post in a while. Thanks for making my day!

I haven't thought about Ouija boards in so long. Good times:)

Blogger John said...

RE: "...I've often wondered what boys talk about at sleepovers"

I can't possibly remember back that far, but to my knowledge, the only time hetero MEN are involved in "sleepovers," they involve camouflage, guns, alcohol, and lying. LOTS and LOTS of lying.

Blogger mysterygirl! said...

Oh my gosh, I want to do this. Having really good girl friends is such an awesome thing.

Anonymous Food Rockz Man said...

This sex/father stuff is too much . . . even for me . . . and I'm pretty crude. YIKES! (And by "too much" I mean "welcomed and needed.") Thanks for going where few would be daring enough to go. I can always count on you for that.

Blogger Ulysses said...

Mayo or malt vinegar: either way, you've got a reason to save some of those fries for later in the evening.

Anonymous apathy lounge said...

This was hysterical. It had everything horror, drama, sex, true crime, and confessional conversation. However, I'm much more comfortable with the idea that my parents have never had sex. Even with each other. Call me crazy, but I sleep better at night with that knowledge tucked into a dark corner of my brain.

Blogger gorillabuns said...

Tell me you guys didn't sleep in teddies.

Blogger kitkat said...

I'm really glad I'm not the only one with a fear of "inadvertent bowel movements."

Oh yeah, and sweating mayonnaise...? Holy crap, that's funny. There's should be a name for this particular brand of humor. Road hysteria?

Oh my- I feel like I was there. Sounds like a wonderful memory making trip....

Blogger KB said...

;) you're so funny. I miss you!!!

Blogger Kelly said...

Oh! Girl trips... What fun!

(Now is it safe to talk about cyborgs and werewolves, and the fast that I am so happy to hear there are other adukts who share silly fears? So happy!)

*turning on the lights just before bed*

Blogger Alexandra said...

Awww. This made me miss my girlfriends!

Blogger WildbillthePirate said...

I personaly want to sweat Malt vinegar- it really smells way better that Mayo,I'd rather live in the countryside and I Really want to avoid inadvertent bowel movements! Then Again, you had mr at Merlot!

Blogger Valerie said...

I was giggling uncontrollably through this whole post. Thanks!!!

Blogger nancypearlwannabe said...

Wouldn't it be awesome if we found out that guys sit around playing Girl Talk and Mall Madness in their underwear at sleepovers?

Or... yeah. Creepy.

Blogger Rachel said...

You make my laugh! Haha! :)

Blogger Ari von Rothberg said...

What an enjoyable retelling of those events: you describe the intimacy of close friends and the car trip with detail clarion enough to make me able to visualize the road lit by headlights or the sight of trees passing by in the dark. I never had a bad Ouija board experience, but certainly I have lived among ghosts: a peaceful coexistence really.

Thank you for sharing your story.

Anonymous Lara said...

Girl friends are the BEST! :)

Post a Comment

<< Home

footer