I Got Ten Inches Last Weekend

Like so many of my inappropriate stories, it all started in the pub with the usual suspects on Friday evening. The waitress had been by to collect our food orders and my friend Chris and I had each decided on pizza. I had ordered a 10” medium and he’d gone for the 12” large.

Okay, I can hear you starting to snicker already. Wait for it…

The food arrived and we all dug in with enthusiasm. Except Chris, who was eyeing his pizza with a puzzled look. “What size pizza did you order?” he asked.

“Medium. Ten-inch,” I mumbled around my mouthful.

“Mine doesn’t look any bigger than yours,” he said.

By then everybody had stopped eating to listen with widening grins on their faces.

I peered over at his pizza. “You’re right. They look the same. Hang on…” I pulled out my little measuring tape. (If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you’ll know I always carry a measuring tape, along with a bunch of other obscure but useful stuff.)

I measured my pizza. “Ten inches.”

Somebody called out, “Now measure Chris’s!” just as the waitress arrived to see me reaching toward Chris with my measuring tape extended.

Everybody erupted in laughter while the waitress froze.

Chris salvaged the situation as best he could by gravely measuring his pizza. Then he said the words you’ll rarely hear from any guy: “Mine’s only ten inches.”

The waitress’s apology for the mistake was almost obscured by the shouts of laughter. Then she turned to me and said, “I can’t believe you have a measuring tape in your purse!”

That only increased the merriment because everybody at the table knew the story of how I used to lurk in men’s washrooms with my measuring tape. We didn’t enlighten our waitress, though. Some things are just too hard (yes, I said ‘hard’) to explain.

And speaking of questionable behaviours, Hubby and I had a chuckle over our Valentine’s Day meal, too. We avoid restaurants on Valentine’s Day because neither of us wants to eat in a crammed-full restaurant. So Hubby had picked up steaks, crab, and a lobster tail for our dinner, and I was making Eggs Benedict for our lunch.

We were out of back bacon. (I know you’re thinking, “How could Canadians run out of back bacon?” You’re right; the government will probably revoke our citizenship cards.)

Anyway, we improvised with regular side bacon, but we’d gotten some mutant package that was either the product of a novice butcher’s first day on the job, or else they’d swept up all the bits that had fallen on the floor. Or both.

But we slapped the bacon on the Bennies (no, that’s not a euphemism) and dug in regardless. A few minutes later a bacon fragment escaped my fork and Hubby looked over in time to see me groping down the front of my T-shirt.

I quipped, “Most women would spritz themselves with cologne for a Valentine’s Day lunch with their sweetie. I drop bacon down my cleavage.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Works for me.”

Ah, bacon. The universal male attractant. Or maybe that’s cleavage. Or bacon-flavoured cleavage…?

So how was your Valentine’s weekend?


51 thoughts on “I Got Ten Inches Last Weekend

  1. I got nine inches last night. Oh, and it snowed, too. (Ba-dum-bum.)

    I did finally get a chance to read Spy High. I loved it!!! (I’ll be writing a review soon. I suck at writing reviews, but I can toss out stars with the best of them.) You never disappoint. Of course, now I’m even more torn between Big John and Hellhound. And am I totally weird to think Stemp is kind of sexy now that I know more about his hippy-dippy background?

    Liked by 2 people

    • I’m glad you loved Spy High, Linda! (And great line, too – thanks for my LOL of the day!) Spy High was a change of pace from the previous couple of books and I wasn’t sure whether that was a good idea or not, so it’s nice to hear good things about it.

      And it’s cool that you’re both having ambivalent feelings about Stemp. I have a lot of fun writing him because he’s such a complex character, and I’m pretty sure he’s still got some surprises in store. (I have the best job EVER, spying on the lives of fictional people!) 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I haven’t laughed this hard in a while. Been busy taking advantage of some milder weather. Might ward off some Spring cleaning early. I’ve always got a tape measure in my tote. Usually for window treatments etc. I guess I’ve really missed out on some interesting situations. LOL I need to pay more attention to life around me I guess.
    You so rock Diane. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I had a mighty fine Valentine’s weekend, thanks for asking Diane… just me and the bottle of wine. Glad it’s all over. Valentine’s, that is. The wine can come again.
    Reading about your ten inches reminded me of a ten inch incident at a pub / restaurant once. The place was called Tom Cobbles or Gobbles or something like that (which is important, please read on…), and I couldn’t decide what to have, as I didn’t feel like much. Tom’s Onion Pole jumped out of the menu at me, so I opted for that. A ten inch pole filled to the top with onion rings. It filled me. I did make a few comments about the pole though… it just had to be done.


  4. So a 12″ one is considered large, eh? Chuckle.
    You were absolutely right about what I thought when you said you were out of back bacon! And bacon down the cleavage is totally unfair. What real man could resist? It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s what the Sirens did to Ulysses. No wonder they tied him to the mast.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Oh the people who must Google their way to your site Diane with keyword searches. Of course they may be disappointed with the lack of photos but that is far outweighed by their delight in the humour they find. I think you should launch the perfume company soon but for heaven sakes don;’t wear it when hiking in the woods!

    Liked by 1 person

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