Bevvy G

This is so Fawn and Bev it hurts.

Well, minus the hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of clothing they’re wearing.

-Bev

I feel like when I was growing up, and even my first few years as an ‘adult’ (I use that term loosely), appointment reminders came in one of two forms: a friendly call or a card in the mail.

In recent months, I’ve had several orthodontist and ophthalmologist appointments, and boy, have times changed. Calls, texts, emails, phone calls, and cards in the mail reminding me of my appointment. Now, Bev has many shortcomings, but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever missed (or even been late for) an appointment. This flurry of communication is appallingly unnecessary.

First of all, I write things down. Thanks.

Second of all, every time I get a call or text from a random number, I think that maybe I met my dream man at the bar the weekend before (and don’t remember it), and he’s calling to sweep me off my feet. Or maybe, Ed McMahon is calling, and I won the sweepstakes! Nope… retainer checkup appointment for Beverly Goldenstein on Thursday at 4:30¹. Don’t worry, if you miss the call, we’ve got 3 texts and 2 emails ready to be sent in the next month, and a card on its way to your house. And if you forget, we’ll pull out all of your teeth next time you come in charge you $25.

Now, don’t get me wrong… it’s not like I ran out and bought 3 years’ worth of toilet paper during Y2K or anything, but I’m developing a real fear² of what these medical offices will try to do for appointment reminders next. If one day you wake up with no memory of the previous 24 hours, and a shock collar on, you heard it here first.

-Bev

¹What? You don’t wear a retainer at 32? I’ve inherited several of Smoke Goldenstein’s worst traits; bad teeth being one of them. I will NOT let these teeth slide back to 5th grade status. I will not.

²This is just one in a litany of Bev’s irrational fears. Like how my Achilles may be ripped out through the bottom of my foot when I walk over a door frame with screws in it. I know.

Things I’m grateful for tonight:

1) That Pinterest trick where you wrap a bottle in a wet paper towel, put it in the freezer, and it’s chilled within an hour?

It works.

2) Judging by my Google search, I’m not the only person who’s considered doing the Whole30 + alcohol.

3) But mostly, just the chilled bottle thing. It’s rare, but I was caught off guard tonight. (Off guard = no cold white wine in the house)

-Bev

PS- I had a good friend in college named Comfort. Oy.

I can’t be the only person who would pay good money see this.

I’m sure she was flying high off hot lemon water, and maybe she even added cayenne to get really crazy.

But I can guarantee you, that bish knows nothing about truffle butter.

Either kind.

-Bev

Three nights, three beds, 1600 miles, one family wedding.

Highlights include:

-A Michael Jackson impersonator at a country bar. Watching a mix of two-stepping and moonwalking is a unique experience I wish for all of you at some point in your life.

-Finding a new way to get rid of guys who are hitting on you. If some creep grabs your arms on your way off of the dance floor at a country bar, and he’s stronger than you are, and is holding your wrists in a dance-like position, you can just yell, “Don’t spill my beer, dude. DON’T spill my beer,” and he’ll run away like a small child.

-My 4 year old niece whispering “Dwink it… Dwink it! Dwink it ALL,” to me while waiting to ‘cheers’ and drink during the toasts at the wedding. Man, we’re gonna have fun in 12 17 years. Sorry, Maude.

-Having this actual conversation with Mama G in our hotel room Sunday morning.

“Get your shit together, Bev.”
“My shit is together.”
“OK.”

-And then having this actual conversation with her on the elevator on the way to family brunch Sunday morning.

“Yeah, but they don’t have {bottomless} mimosas, so you’re shit outta luck.”

Ya know, what? You created this monster, Mom.

-Spending a very short time in my hometown of Mayberry, hearing the latest gossip, mostly involving a grown-ass man named Chippy. 

-Talking to cousin Bessie about her dental school classmates, some of whom apparently come from checkered pasts. Direct quote from Bessie, “I’m worried about a B, and you were in a porn.” I really hope this guy wears gloves when he performs dental work…

-Getting a paper cut on my lip while licking an envelope. Of course.

-Beginning and ending the trip with Ghetto Superstar playing on the radio. Thank you, disc jockeys.

And I wouldn’t be Beverly Goldenstein if I told you I didn’t eat half of a large taco pizza from a gas station in the backseat of my own car on Interstate 80 on the ride home. (I also wouldn’t be Beverly Goldenstein if I didn’t excessively use prepositional phrases)

-Bev

Recently, a close friend, Melva, introduced me to Matcha, a drink from Starbucks that costs only $.88, and is basically the eighth wonder of the world (supposedly). *See this article for more information: http://elitedaily.com/life/culture/matcha-good-mind-body-soul/1007068/

I tried it, liked it, and started drinking it like it was going out of style. Well, apparently, the exact opposite is happening, and Starbucks literally more than tripled the Matcha price this week. From $.88 to $2.65? Seriously, Starbucks?

Lessons to be learned here:
*Don’t try to be healthy. Just order the damn S’mores Frappuccino, Bev. And figure out which one (tall or grande) is a ‘medium’ so that you can ‘cut calories’ by not getting a Venti solely because that’s the only size you can remember.
*Don’t play the lottery anytime soon.
*Damn the man.

I’m writing a letter.¹

-Beverly Goldenstein, concerned consumer

¹No, I’m not. I’m putting on my pajamas, driving through a Starbucks for a Matcha, and heading to WalMart², because I’m American.

²No, I’m not. But I am going to bed. Not writing a letter.

I don’t always park on the street instead of the work parking lot. 

But when I do, I forget, walk to the parking lot, and then all the way around the building to my car. Cursing like a sailor.

-Bev

I know you’re probably wondering, “What in the bloody hell does this picture mean?”

And I’m here to tell you what in the quite literally bloody hell this picture means is that, in the last 24 hours, Bev has tried to use a sharp knife and a screwdriver.

Seriously considering hiring a babysitter. I pay as many Coors Lights as you can drink per hour. Just kidding, that’s what I pay myself.

-Beverly 

After watching some recent NBA playoff action (Go Bulls), I can’t help but ponder… how is it possible that Lebron looked 45 when he declared for the draft out of high school, yet hasn’t aged in the 10+ years since?

Google pictures and marinate on that.

-Beverly

I’m 100% certain that if there had been a dashcam of some type in my car this morning when a tiny little moth started flying around INSIDE THE CONFINED SPACE OF MY NISSAN ALTIMA, I could be a billionaire.

#Screaming
#Swerving
#Swearing

-Bev