Today TUSCHKA IS THIRTY!!!!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TUSCHKA!!!! You are OLD!!! But I love you anyways. I'm unconditional like that. Plus, I don't have the energy to train a replacement.
There are 2 instances with Tuschka where the story always begins with my whispering....."Tuschka???" First we had the bomb scare. The second story, is equally amusing and occurred while sober.
Please, let's flashback to our senior year in college......
So Tuschka's younger sister (G) and her sister's friend wanted to see Bush. Actually, G's friend was obsessed with Gavin Rossdale, and wanted to go, and G was to go with. The concert was at UICU, and since they were 16 (or 15) at the time, they needed chaperones. Queue the older college sister and her roommate. Tuschka and I agree to go with, and even sweeter yet, G's friend was going to pay for our concert tickets!! WOO HOO.
As the concert got closer, there was some concern from the parentals about the girls being chaperoned in a college town by college students (and I UIUC connections with Weeny being there and some other close friends). So G's friend's Mom and Tuschka and G's Dad decided they are going to drive everyone, pay for 2 hotel rooms (me, Tuschka, and Dad in one; G, friend, and mom in the other), and then Tuschka and I would actually attend the concert while Mom and Dad went to a casino.
Off to the concert we go. It rocked, we sang, we danced. Gavin walked into the crowd, was probably 5 rows from us. G's friend touched him. It was a miraculous evening. We go back to the hotel, it's late, the parentals are back. I decide I'm going to hop in the shower before bed since I'm all hot and sweaty.
In the shower, I cleanse and wash my hair. My hair feels kinda nasty, so I decide I'm going to put conditioner in it. It feels nastier. I was going to add more conditioner, and when I picked up the bottle, I noticed that it was conditioner...it was LOTION. So I wash my hair like three more times.
When I get out of the bathroom, I whisper (assuming Tuschka's dad's asleep)
Me: Tuschka?????
T (whispering back): What??
Me: I just put lotion in my hair!
Tuschka's dad (with a mild Chicago/Italian accent): Why'd you fucking put lotion in your hair????
Hilarious laughter ensues. And I say that I thought it was conditioner, blah, blah, blah.
The rest of the night...Tuschka and I were in fits of giggles, laughing about anything and everything. And the most common thing repeated??? "Tuschka, I just put lotion in my hair!!" We'd convulse, stop breathing, have fits.... all night long. I have no clue how Tushcka's dad slept that night, because God knows, we weren't sleeping.
I have the feeling that whenever I whisper Tuschka's name....there has to be some slight apprehension of what's about to come out of my mouth. Granted now it's only a bomb or lotion...but who knows what's to come.
So, Tuschka, my dear Jewish goddess, princess, sister... Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday!!
I love ya!!
Rock out with your birthday cock out.
1 comment:
My dearest Lashka,
Thank you so much for the birthday wishes and for posting one of my favorite stories EVER!!! That was a great night! Even my dad still talks about it! He thinks it's hilarious for 2 reasons...first, that you put lotion in your hair, and second, that we actually thought he would be able to sleep through all our hysterical fits of laughter! Anyway, thanks for being you! I also do not have the energy for training a replacement :)
Love you, love you, love you!!
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