This in and of itself is not unusual, except that this particular friend and I are usually up to some kind of shenanigans, so simply having a meal out together is rather sedate. We've both had very long days, so by the time we sit down, we are both tired and a little slap-happy.
We get the usual giggles out -- somehow we always seem to do two things: Laugh and bitch. Now, before you go judging us, please bear in mind that our get-togethers are like free therapy sessions. We support each other's latest ridiculous (or insurmountable) tragedies, then we laugh until we're crying. The only cost involved is a meal. Most of you crazy-ass people pay professionals for the kind of mental relief we share with each other for the cost of lemon water.
Which brings me to today's blog: Lemon Water.
One would think that ordering a glass of water with lemon would be a no-brainer. Somehow, though, our waitress believes this means "Bring us two tall glasses of plain water that you poured directly from the Ipswich River." No lemon. This already alerts us that our waitress is, in fact, NOT a rocket scientist ... or maybe she is because super-smart people are often dumb as shit when it comes to something as simple as "Put a fucking lemon slice in the damn glass of water."
We play dumb, too.
When the waitress comes to take our food order, we both exclaim, "You know what might be great with this plain old tasteless water? Oh. My. God. Lemon! Can you even imagine? Hey, is it possible to get some lemon slices that we ourselves can actually put into this clear old water here? Wow! Lemon! Yes, that's a brilliant idea. Might we please have some lemon slices?"
You know, like we're Einstein and Edison.
Once we get the lemon slices, we add them to whatever has now arrived at our table: lemonade, Arnold Palmer, really horrible smoky cauliflower, and a couple of lackluster entrees. Oh, and, of course, the water glasses.
It's a frigging lemon fiesta at our table.
Near the end of the evening when we are waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for the waitress to reappear so we can ask for the bill, I look into my water glass and start giggling. This isn't all that unusual for us because just about anything can make us laugh when we're together. However, it is at this moment that I realize my ice water has buttocks floating in it.
Yup.
The two lemon slices I added to my water have clumped together, gone belly-down, and are now forming what looks like two butt cheeks with an ass crack. I tip the glass slightly so my friend can have the same full-on view as do I, but I must maneuver the plastic straw so that it neither separates the lemon cheeks nor performs and accidental lemon proctol exam.
It's the perfect way to end the evening. After working our asses off all day and laughing our asses off all evening, it's only fitting that there be an ass laughing right back at us from the water glass. After all, if the damn waitress had just put a damn slice of damn lemon in my damn glass in the first place, this whole cheeky adventure could've been avoided. But then I wouldn't have a blog nor a photo to share with you, and that right there, folks, is worth the price of a plateful of lemon slices.
