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She frowns. “You still having that camel toe problem?”
I shake my head and steal another chip. “Nope. Not since I got new underwear.”
“I can imagine,” she says with a sigh.
The girls love to give me a hard time over my underwear choices because I don’t wear the nasty-ass thong panties they do.
Gilly perks up in spite of her beans. “So. How was your mom’s fundraiser? What’s her latest pet project? The fortune cookie factory?”
I dab at the sour cream dribbled down the front of my dress. “The fortune cookie factory was a couple years ago. She raised enough money to keep it from closing down,” I say proudly.
Gilly slaps her hand on the table. “Another San Francisco institution saved by Eleanor Parker. Your mom’s my hero, Petal.”
I shrug. “Right? She’s knows how to pick ‘em. And FYI, this year’s project is saving the Cable Car Museum, which is actually an interesting little place. I mean, do you know how the cable cars in this city work? I learned it all there.”
“Fascinating stuff, I’m sure,” Lucy says with a fake yawn. “Aren’t we supposed to go on a tour of it sometime soon?”
I finish wolfing down my burrito and stifle a burp. If it were just me and the girls, I would have let it fly.
What can I say? It’s fun to be gross with your best friends since first grade. Not to mention when you still act like you’re in first grade from time to time.
“Yeah. That’s one of her new things. Offering tours, especially to the folks who come to town for conventions. First you can a ride on the cable car, then take a tour.”
“And then you get a bowl of Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco treat?” Lucy laughs.
“Something like that. Anyway, Mom raised a lot of money today, and guess who snagged the most expensive prize?” I ask with a cringe.
Gilly wipes her hands clean, then rests her chin on them. “You? Did you win something good? Please say you didn’t get more scented candles.”
Oh my God. When will they stop with the scented candles? Sure, they’re my thing. I love them. And sure, I have boxes of them stashed away, so I’ll never run out, not before the end of the decade. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop buying more.
“You’ll be pleased to know I didnotget the candle and lotion basket I had my eye on. Instead, I won adate. Can you believe it? With some Neanderthal, which I am so not happy about.”
I tell the girls how I accidentally ended up bidding on a hockey player. By the time I finish, they are howling so loudly everyone in TacoLand is looking at us.
“Only you, Petal. That’s the sort of thing that would happen only to you,” Lucy says, catching her breath.
It’s not that funny. Maybe a little comical, but not rolling-on-the-floor-funny.
“Who’s the lucky guy? Some porn-addicted techbro who thinks Kid Rock is a musical genius?” she asks.
“Or some dude who just sprouted two pubic hairs last week?” Gilly snickers.
“I wish it was someone like that, it would be so easy to get rid of him. But no, it’s some guy who plays for a sport team. The San Francisco Earthquakes or something like that.”
Gilly squinches her face. “Petal, we have no sports team here called the Earthquakes.”
“Well, it’s something like that. Anyway, I’m doing my best to get out of it. I don’t like sports, I don’t like jocks, and I am not going to date again, ever, not since my wedding mishap.”
Lucy’s eyes bug. “Mishap? You call that amishap? You leaving a guy at the altar and calling his nasty ho-bag acunty bitchis not what I think of as amishap.”
We get a couple glances when Lucy emphasizescunty bitch. She’s not one to lower her voice, even when using the most antisocial language. It’s one of the things I love most about her.
I wave away her opinion. “If I want to call it a mishap, I will. That’s how I choose to remember that day. Even though everyone in San Francisco is still talking about it.”
Why can’t people just get a life? Seriously. I am not that interesting, and leaving Andy at the altar is hardly the crime of the century.
Even if he is an up-and-comer on the city council and being groomed for a someday run for mayor. Which sounds like a thankless job anyway, if you ask me.
