The Scene In Which My Mom Does Not Like Pina Coladas

I've been vacationing in Florida for the past, oh, week or so (I know, rough life) and this Friday, my parents arrived from Chicago for their vacation week. We overlap for a few days, so we're staying in the same apartment room at the lovely small island resort we love so much.

To welcome them to their first day in the sun on Saturday, I whipped up a batch of my now-famous strawberry pina coladas, and, as you'd naturally expect, treated them to a loud, somewhat off-key rendition of "IF you LIKE Pina Coladas....."

To which my mother announced, in a fit of years-held-back disdain, that she "HATES that song."

"Seriously?" I asked (since I'd been singing it all week.)

"Oh my GOD, yes," she replied. "That guy is such a douchenozzle!"

Let's pause momentarily in appreciation of the fact that my mom not only knows, but uses, phrases like "douchenozzle." Because it pertains to later usage, here are Mom's definitions of the phases of "douchiness."
A douche is just kind of like your average idiot.
A douchebag is somebody that actually causes me some problems, like somebody in traffic who cuts me off.
And a douchenozzle is just a breath away from being a dickhead, or possibly an immediate elevation to major dickhead.

You heard it here first.

Back to the story.

I couldn't get the song out of my head, so I kept on singing and that's when we started coming up with all the douchiest lyrics in the song and rating them on levels of doucheness. My helpful dad looked up, and then began to read aloud, the lyrics. My mom inserted helpful appropriate remarks.

I was tired of my lady, we'd been together too long. (DICK, she muttered under her breath.)
Like a worn-out recording, of a favorite song.
So while she lay there sleeping, I read the paper in bed.(OH, yeah, NICE, she's laying right next to you, you jerk.)
And in the personals columns, there was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain. (I mean, come on! She's looking for someone with half a brain and then later, he doesn't realize that it means SHE THINKS HE DOESN'T HAVE ONE?!)
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, write to me, and escape."

I didn't think about my lady, I know that sounds kind of mean.(Yeah. Douche. )
But me and my old lady, had fallen into the same old dull routine. (Asshole. Anyone who calls their girlfriend their "old lady" is automatically a douchenozzle.)
So I wrote to the paper, took out a personal ad.
And though I'm nobody's poet, I thought it wasn't half-bad. (Right.)

"Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
I'm not much into health food, I am into champagne.
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape.
At a bar called O'Malley's where we'll plan our escape." (See? SEE?? Already planning to ditch her. What an douche.

So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place.
I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face.
It was my own lovely lady, and she said, "Oh, it's you."
And we laughed for a moment, and I said, "I never knew". (See, this relationship is already doomed. How do you NOT know these things? BAD COMMUNICATION.And they're both willing to be adulterers.)

"That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
And the feel of the ocean, and the taste of champagne.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes on the cape.
Then you're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."

"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain.
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain.
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape.
I'm the love that you've looked for, come with me, and escape."

At this point my dad offered up a philosophical question. The narrating man may have been willing to cheat on his "old lady," but was she the bigger douchnozzle for having been the first one to place a personal ad??

My mom pondered this for a moment.

"No, I guess just deserve each other."

The Scene In Which Something Big Descends From Heaven

Something amazing has descended from heaven just in time for the upcoming Christian holiday of Easter, and it's not Jesus.

It's better than Jesus.

(Folks, it's called creative license. Go with me here.)

Recently I was having a discussion about Cadbury creme eggs with someone (for the life of me I can't remember who) and the conversation turned from their chocolatey, soft-fondant filled supreme gooey yummines to, well, their not-so-awesome packaging and size.

Practially guaranteed to melt and drip all over your fingers, these little eggs also come wrapped in a pathetically small amount of oft-ripped foil, making you cringe as you realize that you've mistakenly grabbed one in the store that has been exposed to not just your grimy mitts, but those of everyone who reached into the container before you.

Sidenote- I remember who it was that I was talking to. It was the checkout guy at CVS, because I was getting one of them as a splurge when I went in to pick up some things for my trip. It was the one that always chats to everyone about what they're buying, and the reason he lit on the Cadbury eggs was because, um, the other items in my basket were a bottle of shampoo, my no-baby pills and Tampax. (Which, as we all know, you Do. Not. Make. Conversation. About. with the checkout folks. Seriously, it's bad enough that people who graduated from my university work at the pharmacy and I have to go in there and be all like oh hey, I used to have astronomy with you! Um, yeah, I need a refill of my no-baby pills. Thanks.)

Anyway.

Back to the important stuff.

Because today, I made one of the most important Eastertime discoveries since the tomb door rolled back and old Jesus wasn't inside.

Mini. Cadbury. Creme. Eggs.

By the dozen.

In a mini plastic egg container.

Love.

And not the ones we've all seen and THOUGHT were the mini-creme eggs but then turned out to be just plain milk chocolate Cadbury eggs or, worse, Cadbury knock-offs filled with peanut butter or crunchiness.No, folks, these were honest-to-goodness, bite-sized, no-mess, no-grimy-mitts-touching, Cadbury creme eggs.

It was like one of those moments where the clouds break, the beam of light shines down, and the chorus sings, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

It's good stuff.

Now if you'll excuse me.....

PS: Despite the blatant product placement, I was not in any way endorsed by Cadbury for the publishing of this post. But if anyone from Cadbury happens to read this, I'm open to the opportunity. Just send 3 samples of each item in your catalogue and I'll get right on those reviews!

The Scene In Which Starbucks Goes Suicidal

Recently I was lamenting that I hadn't had a blog-worthy Starbucks visit in awhile- which seemed strange, as I've been frequenting them on a basis that many would, and do, deem as insanity (last week the record was three meetings at different Starbucks in one day?).

"Hah!" the universe said to my lament. "Fear not, for I will throw weird new Starbucks music and a cast of blog-worthy characters your way, posthaste!"

And it was so.

Following the tragedy that was Valentine's Day music at Starbucks, it seems the stores have introduced a new genre to their stores: "Let's Go Kill Ourselves."

I first noticed this two weeks ago, as I sat with Mother, Younger Brother, and Friend S at a Starbucks.

During a lull in the conversation, the sad strains of the overly dramatic violins cast a pallor over our table.

"Um, does this song make anyone else want to go kill themselves?" I questioned.

"No kidding!" Mother said.

"It sounds like one of those songs in the black-and-white movies," said Friend S.

"Yeah, one of those movies where the woman kills herself at the end!" Younger Brother chimed in.

"By jumping from a balcony!"

"Yes! She's standing there...."

"Gazing out over a rolling sea...."

"In a long white dress with a scarf wrapped around her neck, blowing in the wind..."

"And then the camera cuts back to the apartment and the cat sitting on the couch....."

"And the wind blows the curtains in from the open door...."

"And then it goes back to the outside, and there's nothing on the balcony but the scarf, caught in the metal rail...."

"And then over the horizon on the rolling sea, the fisherman boat she thought was lost forever carrying her lover appears!"

(music swells to hideous crescendo)

"And then the credits roll."