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?
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?
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Oh! I got that feeling too. Kinda saw some old stoney walls crumbling down around Stemp. I didn’t know whether to feel good about it, or just creepy.
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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!) 😀
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Ain’t that the truth! 🙂
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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. 🙂
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Thanks, I’m glad you got a laugh! And hey, whip out that measuring tape at random and inappropriate times, and just watch how interesting your life gets… 😉
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Does Viagra really work?
Absolutely. Works fantastic.
Can you get it over the counter?
If I take two.
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Bahahaha!!! Y’know, sometimes the ability to form vivid mental images isn’t quite so much of a blessing as you might think…
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I thought you used the metric system to shame men in Canada.
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No, the metric system is a boon to all men. Even the owner of a mere 2 incher can proudly say, “Hey, I got 50mm!” Even 5cm sounds pretty respectable.
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The key is to not date a mathematician.
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Or do anything else with one. 🙂
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Except Trigonometry.
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With one of your closest friends. More, and it becomes geometry. Ish…
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“What do winter storms and sex have in common?”
A: You never know how many inches you’re gonna get!
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Bahahaha!!! Too true.
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When I read “10 inches,” I thought you meant snow. I need to get out of New England.
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Judging by what I’ve seen/heard in the news, only ten inches would be cause for celebration. You guys are getting some serious winter out there! I feel your pain. We’re having an easy winter so far, but we got it at both ends of the season last year. May: https://blog.dianehenders.com/2014/05/07/snow-fun/ and the first week of September: https://blog.dianehenders.com/2014/09/10/dear-autumn/. But you might not want to look at those posts until summer arrives – it’ll just be too depressing.
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True, 10 inches is a cause for celebration. Don’t think these piles of snow are disappearing anytime soon. And of course I skimmed through the posts–and I will now read them in full length and torture myself, just like any rational human being.
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LOL! We rational human beings need to stick together. 😉
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Yeah, and the rest of us, too…
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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.
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Oh dear. Oh dear. If you managed to hold it back to only a few comments, you were doing wonderfully well. I wouldn’t have shown anywhere near your noble restraint.
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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.
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There’s probably an object lesson there: If you’re trying to resist a Siren’s call, keep both hands firmly on your mast.
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Thix per thent on the progreth bar. Theriouthly fabulouth! You tho rock!
Bacon? Thouhdth like pretty tholid pheromonth to me. 🙂
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Thankth! Hey, that’s a pretty serious speech impediment you’ve got there. Do you have bacon in your teeth?
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No. Alath, itth jutht all thothe vegebablth. They give me a thpeech impediment. I type with a lithp. Thorry about that, Thister. I’ll try to do better nextth time. 🙂
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Don’t go changin’… 😉
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I’ll do my betht…
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Leave it to a man to be so aware of length and diameter!
Your husband better be careful–with the bacon down your shirt, he’s going to have a lot of canine attention to compete with. So stay out of any dog shelters. 😉
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LOL! Better to attract dogs than to be one… theoretically. Most of the dogs I know have it pretty good, so more research might be required.
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Glad you carry a tape measure, by the way is that extra 8″ still hurting you in the bedroom?
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Ah, this is how rumours get started. 😉 I only wanted an extra six inches, and it didn’t hurt a bit because I still haven’t gotten it: https://blog.dianehenders.com/2014/07/09/hello-from-planet-innuendo/
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Silly Girl, {or as some say ,The Cutie from Culross } I was referring to the bed extension…that was 8″ too long. Maybe you could put a ballon on the corner.
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LOL! Oops, my bad! Yes, that extra 8″ is still hurting me occasionally, but I’m gradually getting used to it. Or is that too much information…?
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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!
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Hmmm, an excellent point. I’d better print a disclaimer on the bottle. 😉
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Thanks for my morning belly laugh.
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You’re welcome! 😀
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Mmmmm …. bacon flavored cleavage.
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I need to bottle that and market it. This could be my big break!
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So did the waitress make it bigger for him? 🙂
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Bahahaha!!! She offered, but he declined. I think his wife was relieved.
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Got your Eggs Benny heated up for Valentine’s Day, huh? Sounds like fun!
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LOL! Yes; yes I did. ‘Nuff said… 😉
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I’m glad I’m not the only one to carry a measuring tape… 😉
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You never know when you’ll need it, right? 😉
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That or the screwdriver… 😉
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Exactly!
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🙂
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