936. The Visitor

David and I are either going to have to redefine our relationship or not speak to each other until after the election.

With Donald Trump as the republican nominee I find nothing funny about what’s going on in the country.

When David says hateful things about President Obama and Hillary and with one eyebrow up in a serious voice starts spouting ways that the donald (long time readers know what those small letters mean) has helped our vision in the world as a country that won’t take any shit I want to stab him with a butter knife (more painful than anything sharp) until he’s just a puddle of stupid lying on the floor.

Enough of that, let me tell you about our visit. He is staying here because his son, Marshall was having a back operation.

He arrived on Wednesday at about 4. I had cocktails and hors d’oeuvres waiting for him. Ray was absolutely ecstatic.

He had dinner plans at 7:30 so that’s 3 and a half hours of chatting. Usually on the phone we speak for about 15 or 20 minutes.

After about 45 minutes we had clearly run out of talk especially since I refused to let him speak about politics or quote one of the 500 John Wayne movies that he has committed to memory.

There was one break in the chatter when the babe with the husband and 3 kids called which made clear that all that bullshit about him being too honorable to dabble in that relationship was exactly what I knew it was, bullshit.

After that he started calling everyone he knew to see if they’d have a drink with him before dinner so he could escape before 7:30.

I was just about to suggest that he see if the doorman was free when his ex sister in law agreed to meet him.

I was asleep when he got home and the next day he was with Marshall so we really didn’t see each other until this morning when we had breakfast.

A lovely breakfast I might add. David was being very nice. He even commented that I barely burnt the eggs. There were a few slip ups when he asked for salt and pepper and I brought him salt and ginger and then cinnamon. I finally put on my specs and gave him the pepper.

He only got a bit ugly when in serving Ray his eggs and cream cheese I put the knife back in the cheese container. I had to scrape off the top of the cream cheese before he would use it on his (nicely browned) bagel.

When he leaves I’m going to have to scrape off the top of the cream cheese again before I feed it to Ray.

We talked about Marshall’s recovery. The doctor said that because he was all muscle and no fat his pain would last longer. I guess that’s the downside of being a hunk.

David remarked that it would be good when Marshall would be able to run again because he couldn’t live without running. Then David said that he too used to run regularly.

“You? I’ve never seen you get off the couch fast”

“I was still running when I moved to NYC from Darien”

When I expressed disbelief he insisted that he ran many 10k’s.

“Unless the K stood for the the silent letter in knearly 10 inches I find that hard to believe. What made y0u stop?”

“I got hit by a gas truck”

We sat in silence while I’m sure he was thinking “Only something major like that could have stopped my constant quest for exercise ”

And I thought “HAHAHAHAHA”


10 thoughts on “936. The Visitor

  1. I must correct only 2 points

    The 6ft tall smoking hot blonde is divorced and therefore has an ex huband. Her 3 children under the age of 10 are adopted. They are Hispanic and had been in 3 foster homes in East Los Angeles. I know the readers are thinking. What would such a woman see in David? Beats the shit out of me!

    Secondly I was still running when we moved from Dallas to Darien. I was 32
    The move to NY was almost 20 years later

    Mattie was indeed a very gracious host
    The eggs were cooked perfectly, which means she undercooked them by about an hour according to am old family tradition. I had seconds! Her using the knife to stir the dogs food and stick it back in the cream cheese container seemed as natural to Mattie as asking a guest to pass the salt

  2. The donald is a jerk and liar. If I could, I would move to Canada if he gets elected. Can’t blame you for wanting use the butter knife, I fully understand.

  3. Oh, Mattie – I love this blog so! “Puddle of stupid”. I am going to use that one, myself.

    If the donald (shudder) dies get in, you and Ray can move in with us in Canada. We have 7 dogs so Ray would be in heaven… And you won’t have to scrape the top off the cream cheese. Lol

    Plus, our Pam is pretty smokin’ hit, up here. 😉

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