Since I ended my last blog post on a serious note, I'll share some good news!
I've FINALLY found a group of women that I can hang with. They're sassy, they're funny, they like wine and occasionally I'll even get an f-bomb or two out of them. And you'll NEVER guess where I found them.
The country club.
Yep. I've been hanging at the golf course down the street...and I don't even play golf yuk yuk yuk! So essentially, I'm going to be paying a yearly fee to be able to hang out in this bar/restaurant/pool where the common folk can't go?
Essentially, I'm paying a lot of money....for friends.
I tried the YMCA first, if that makes any difference.
Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
And, since I now live in Stepford Wife Land and have decided to play on their turf in the shark tank, I need some etiquette lessons. Because, although I can hold my own when I'm on my best behavior, once I start to get comfortable, I lose about 20 class points for each hour (or drink) that goes down. Because these women like fine wines, big diamonds, big houses and don't really eat much.
And then there's me.
I like to eat, a lot. I like beer and pizza. I prefer to swear if I'm around adults. I like to show off my boobs. I do like big diamonds, though.
And, although I'm pretty confident I can run with these wolves, because I like these women, I want to fine-tune my Stepford skills (without letting go of the beer-lovin, pizza-eatin, f-bomb droppin me).
Just the other day, I was having lunch with a friend, and I caught myself double dipping in our mutual hummus appetiser. Not once, but twice. My friend carefully had scooped a small portion onto her side plate and was using her knife to spread. I, on the other hand, double dipped my carrot straight from the serving plate. Go me! Luckily, my girlfriend didn't say anything but, I'm sure she was just being polite about my slobber being stirred into our hummus.
Or how about the time when I was on girls' weekend in NYC with my Las Vegas Wolfpack....we spent a few hours drinking martinis and eating expensive cheese at The Plaza, for Christ sake, and I took this picture.
I wonder if any of the country club ladies can bust out Too Short or Ice Cube like I enjoy doing? Somehow I doubt it. But I've decided that the first Philly housewife that sings along with me to a 90s rap song is going to be my new BFF, yo!
Etiquette lesson number one: no more double dipping in the hummus.
Etiquette lesson number two: when I feel like swearing, stop, smile and nod. In other words, shut the fuckity-fuck up.
Etiquette lesson number three: keep the cleavage to a minimum and save it for my trips to Vegas.
I think that's a good start...