… The Better Wives Club girls have dumped me.  Just like that.  Lisa snooped on my blog and saw that I’m moving and they all talked around me last night.   Me in the corner, ignored like moldy leftovers. 

So I was thinking about it, and tell you what.  With my next big advance I’ll buy a jitney.  It will go to and fro, from my house to all of yours.  There will be a route and I’ll hire a codgy old character to drive, a harmless flirt.  I’ll keep a clown on staff for the kids, he’ll make balloons and snowcones, the margarita machine will have three flavors.  The pool will be outfitted with custom-built floaties, they’ll have adjustable cup-holders plus a plate to pop out and hold snacks.  The backs will recline. 

Um, I’ll have a big outdoor screen for movies, we’ll have movie nights.  I’ll hire a lifeguard to worry about the kids.  I’ll put a soccer camp in back, Italian class in the corner (Betty?  Can you come?), crafts and puppet shows in the garage all summer long.

I will not be cast off.  See you in Mac.

Yesterdayyy … (heh, heh). All my troubles seemed so fah-ahr a-wayyyyy … and I hosted Better Wives Club, “BWC”, a group of run-around-a-lot moms (RAALMs) who meet Tuesdays for cocktails and storytime.

They have rules and they are these: 1. If you’re hosting, you bring the drinks and don’t run out.  Everyone else brings a snack.  2. A cleaning tip or recipe must be exchanged. I think we forgot that one yesterday. Oh wait, yeah, “Wisa” (names changed to protect, etc.) told us about her dip — can of beans, cheese, sour cream; there, a recipe. 3. Third rule is for the boys, seems fair. On the off-chance it annoys them to have their wives come home looped once a week, on Tuesdays we’re to put out. 

There’s a movie in this group, I see it. We cast it yesterday: Elisabeth Shue as “Wisa”, Lisa Rinna plays “Maren”. “Kulie” … I forget who’s playing “Kulie”. Maybe she’ll play herself and her shotgun rise to rocker fame will be a subplot.  “Bennifer” had to run to soccer practice before we had her cast … next time.

Anyway there’s something about drinking pretty things with your girlfriends. It’s important. But it gets lost somewhere between babies and field trips and schlepping out three crappy meals for everyone every day. I’m not a charter member, I’m the newest girl, I think … and I’ve missed months of meetings for Jr.’s piano lessons. So yesterday was the first time at my house and I was like, totally nervous. (What if they think I’m so lame and never come back, OMG?!) I peeked out my window every 5 minutes, I practiced the drinks (too strong), I put glasses out.  I bit my nails I picked my scabs, then ding-dong, they all filed in and took over. They grabbed bowls and plates, whipped out coasters, pulled out chairs, pointed their kids to Legos, bathrooms and Goldfish crackers … then we assembled around the table and got to business.

Topics covered included, but were not limited to: Superman belt buckles, getting hit on by couples, waxing, how to get out of sex … Sensitive Men and their Computer Monitors, Coop, Red Sox tattoos, A.’s Diesel jeans, Scenes For My Book … also the weird way “Wisa” says “penis”

Next week’s at “Wisa”‘s house … Tuesday, 4:00. See ya there.