Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Meet the Morgans

Couldn't fix the eye problem.  FOILED again by my inability to comprehend technology.
 Who cares, right?  You get the idea.  

OK, I have these friends who are all sisters and everytime I am with them I wish that I had a camera crew because they would make an AWESOME reality show.  In my mind, I keep drawing paralells between them and the Kardashians because they have a younger brother, Will, and they are all bat shit crazy in one way or another.  Not the "crazy-eyed crazy, you see from time to time outside your child's room after parent-teacher conferences", that's more like "needs to be medicated" crazy or "overmedicated crazy" - no, the Morgan sisters (that is what I will call them because that is their maiden name) are "uninhibited crazy" and "crazy witty crazy" and let me tell you they are a BALL to go out with, as long as you bring a backbone, that is.

So the other night, as is a tradition I have with these hookers, we all went to the Rowe fashion show.  I usually am pretty confident when I dress myself, but when you go out with the Morgan sisters, you had better bring your A game.  Well, I got busy doing other stuff (read: Pinterest) and I started running late, and then I told myself I didn't care and my hair was wet when they came to get me and I put on this (what I thought) was this really cute slate grey dress I got from Anthropologie that was short sleeved and all tight in the bodice with a long flowing ankle length skirt with pockets.  Simple, understated, elegant - can't go wrong, right.  Well, just WAIT.

So, let's back up.  I've been rude.  Let me introduce my characters.  Megan, is my neighbor, and is the oldest, and is the first Morgan that I met.  But, if you meet one Morgan, you are going to meet ALL of the Morgans and their friends because THAT is how they roll.  Megan is one of my dearest friends and is the subject of the blog, The Guilt Free Generation (http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/04/guilt-free-generation.html) that I wrote a few years ago.  Megan is irreverant and hysterical and empathetic and FIT and I am bonded to her forever, whether she likes it or not.  In terms of Fashion, she brings it whether she is mowing her lawn (I soooo wish I had a picture of her that day she mowed her lawn in her husband, Mike's basketball shorts and high tops) or if she is going out to get her DRANK on.  I have NEVER seen the girl without a face full of makeup.  Truth.  We've even been camping and to the lake together.   It is an anomaly, fo'sho'.

This is Meg and I trying to do a Miley Cyrus selfie.  It didn't work out.

See what I mean about her hair and make-up.  Flawless.

Oaaakkkaaaay.  I'll put you out of your misery.  I know how vain you are.  This is Megan.

The next player is Brooke.  She is gorgeous and skinny and dresses amazing and is RAUNCHY.  I. LOVE. HER.  I mean, she is a person who WEARS her clothes, they NEVER wear her, which is NOT a statement I can echo about myself.
Didn't take me long to find this one.  Nice hair color, too, ya' douche.

She got me my ill-fated job at Vutech and Ruff, as she is an agent there, and she would make me look forward to the Monday morning meetings because she always speaks her mind and I just LOOOVVVEE when people squirm in their chairs in an office setting, especially if I am invited to the squirm session.

Brooke works at Rowe, too,  and is best friends with the owner, Maren, and she will look you up and down as she asses your outfit and your make up and your hair and tell you what is wrong with it, and what is right , and you revel in the compliments and contemplate botox, and examine your pores in the florescent glare of your make up mirror that night, when you are off the mark.  I am making her sound like a bitch, but she's not.  She's just trying to HELP you and she will TOTALLY hook you up with a stay-at-home retired dermatologist who gives injections in her home for a discount, or come over with a box of highlights THAT NIGHT to touch up your roots and edit your closet.  All bullshitting aside,  she's a ROCK and we have a TON in common, believe it or not.  You can tell her ANYTHING and I HAVE, and she's given me some of the best advice I have ever gotten.  Fact.

Kim and Brooke, my ROCK.  Thanks for the booties.  My arch is now gone.

Finally, there is Sarah, aka "Saucy", as she is known in certain circles - the youngest of the Morgan girls. She is absolutely single and has more confidence in her little pinky than I have in my entire body. Sarah is an absolute PRESENCE.  Brad met her before I did, one night after some sports game, where the Morgan sisters dragged him out to a bar where Saucy was holding court.  OK, that last sentence seems totally implausible, so let me announce RIGHT NOW that I am ALWAYS game for three beautiful younger women to take my man out late night, so is he, so HAVE AT IT.

ANNNYYYWWWAAAY, Brad wakes up the next morning and he is going ON and ON about Sarah, Megan's youngest sister, and what a pistol she is.

"I mean, it was like something out of a mooooovie," he was saying AGAIN.  "She was standing at the bar, and all I saw was this Yankees cap that she had on backwards at first, and she turned around as Megan introduced her and she was about to do one of a line of shots that were in front of her, and she starts handing them out to us (he was with his DD and friend Joe) and Joe was all 'Uh, no thanks, I'm driving his sorry ass' and then she was all 'C'mon, ya' pussy' and then I was all 'Um, he's in AA' and then she was all 'Sucks for YOU, then' and grabs his shot from him and shoots that one, too.  I mean, SHE IS AWESOME."

O.K. I am not gonna lie.  Up until this point,  I had a "half listening" marital cap of my OWN on, but after that story I was DEFINITELY intrigued.  And jealous, to boot.  Not that she was going to steal Brad away from me, or even that he got to do shots, but that he met her FIRST.

Folks, meet Saucy.  Saucy, meet my blog followers.  You are welcome, EVERYBODY.

Words do not do her justice.  Just the best gurrrl EVER.

So, I get into the car after I have mouthed "Two minutes" to Sarah as I display my two fingers in a "V" and I am standing in the doorway of the garage with the garage door open wearing my robe with a towel on my head, and Saucy, who is idling in my driveway mouths back through her windshield, "No, ONE minute"and she raises her middle finger to illustrate the ONE.

Oh, and the reason Sarah even DROVE for the night is  in the group text below.  Enjoy:

Brooke:  "Sarah, you can pick Moogie (Meg) up at 6ish, then Johnna, then me.  If Kim (our other friend at V & R - equally awesome AND impossibly stylish) is ready, we can get her last?  How does that sound for everyone?

OK.  I'm not gonna lie.  I totally didn't want to drive, but I had already offered so I say...

Me: "That's fine with me, but I feel bad that Sarah is driving."

Passive-aggresive, I know, but don't act like YOU'VE never danced this dance, or you're a LIAR.

Brooke:  You can drive?  I have baby seats so I can't.  And I am super sad about it.  LOL.

OK.  It's starting to get REAL, y'all.

Me: "Listen, I wasn't OFFERING.  I just feel bad.  Don't worry.  I'll be fine."

Passive-aggressively, I continue in another text.

Me:  Teasing.  I am a slave to the Morgan girls  I'll do whatever you guys want.

Sarah Morgan:  "Sounds Good."

What?  WHAT sounds good?  Am I driving or am I NOT driving.  This is why I was really late.  Too busy texting and being passive aggressive, instead of showering.

Sarah:  Johnna, don't feel bad for me driving.  I feel bad for all you moms out there that can't average three nights of boozing.  This is my good deed for the day.

Me: "Is that a challenge.  Ooooooh!  I am so gonna throw up in your car tonight!"

So you don't have to scroll up.  IT'S FROM ANTHROPOLOGIE, DAMMIT.
And the pockets.  Did I mention the pockets?

So, I get into the car and Sarah says, "I like your onesie."

"It's ANTHROPOLOGIE!" I retort.

"I'm just sayin'," she says emphatically with her hands in the air.   "I decided to go CAZZZZSSSHH."

We all nod in approval.

She's wearing a shirt and jeans and looks amazing and all the sudden I feel like a dick.

"Leave her alone," Megan jumps in from the front seat, "you look fine."  Megan looks like a super model.  I couldn't even BEGIN to know how she did her makeup.  She's all urban and has cool layered jewelry....I could go on forever, here.

I look down at my adult onesie dress that hits my ankles and explain, "It has POCKETS.  At least I'm comfortable."

Well, the Morgan sisters are about to change THAT.

Next scene, Brooke is approaching the car after ten minutes of waiting.  SHE is representin' with a blue sequin jacket, faded and ripped boyfriend jeans, and she is carrying two purses and two pairs of shoes.

"Oh, here we go," Megan says, "It's all about HER."

"Which shoes do you like better? The booties or the heels?"

Brooke does a series of various looks in the driveway as we all get out and give our two cents and then she says, "I just feel like if I wear these then they should be rounded," when she is wearing the heels.

"What's supposed to be rounded?" I innocently ask.

"The TOE, dumbass," and Brook slides in, takes one look at my shoes and says, "Are you REALLY gonna wear those Jesus sandals?"

"They are Charles David!" I whine.  "I got them in Chicago!"

"Like, what, twenty years ago?" Brooke asks.

"No, longer ago than that," Sarah chimes in, "because Jesus was alive, so it must have been during the period when he lived in Chicago and they made shoes in his shoes' likeness."

Ok, the BACK story about the Jesus sandals is that I actually bought them with my friend, Alissa, in Chicago on our annual Mother's Day trip and I came home with only one of them in my suitcase (which is TOTALLY plausible for one of these trips), so I found them on Ebay and bought them AGAIN, and Alissa bought a version of the same thing, and I now I am fairly sure that I am going to start my next bonfire with them.
I totally threw away the third one because I didn't want to make the inevitable
mistake one day of wearing two left shoes. Practical, no?

"Do you like my jacket?"  Brooke asks us all, once we get rollin'.  You know, cause it's time to BOUNCE.

Brooke continues, "I was gonna wear my leather shorts, but Maren said that EVERYONE is going to wear their leather shorts and she insisted that I wear the jacket."

"Oh, yea.  I was TOTALLY gonna wear my leather shorts instead of my onesie dress and my Jesus sandals, and I even had them ON, but then I put them back for that very same reason."I responded as I rolled my eyes.  "Because, you know, EVERYONE has a pair of leather shorts in their closet."

The rest of the car jumped on Brooke like a bunch of hippies at a nitrus stand and I smiled to myself because I now know what it is like to have sisters.

You see, I am constantly mezmerized by them because I have three girls and I have always wanted a sister, so being around them is a constistent source of amusement to me, in terms of what my future holds, and also what it is like to be in their presence.

I have always felt more comfortable being made fun of, because you know you BELONG.  I have no idea what that says about me as a person, but I have NEVER felt more relaxed around a group of women than I am when I am with the Morgan girls, and that is my TRUTH, whatever that implies.

OK. back to my story.  So we go to the Megan, Brooke and Sarah's parents' home in our neighborhood because their parents are out of town, and because it is the EPICENTER of the family's life, whether their parents are home or not.  We then promptly open up a bottle of The Prisoner (my favorite wine in the world) and pour it into red solo cups.  But, not before Brooke AERATES it, as it is poured in.

The Prisoner +
The Sharper Image Wine Aerator  =

A perfect blend of sophistication and travel.  Point.  Blank. Period.

Above is a reinactment of that scene.  It is also an excuse for me to buy myself a bottle of The Prisoner, which I totally intend to drink a glass of once a finish this seemingly neverending blog, and then i will give the REST of it to the Morgans to make up for the wine that I stole and aerated into a red solo cup because technically I only had one glass and also because I am classy like that.  Word.

"Here.  You are wearing my booties," Brooke announces as we toast each other with our aerated solo cup lovin' Prisoner.

They are impossibly high and I can barely walk, and I am more physically uncomfortable than I was on my wedding day, hands down.

Just imagine these as booties an I have a red solo cup in my hand, oh and I am wearing an adult onesie maxidress.

"You look awesome."  They all say simultaneously as I strut around their parents' living room looking like some sort of cartoon Natasha, who's gait is distinguishable by a torso that lags behind her incredibly long spidery legs.  All that is missing is a cigarrete holder, and I AM ELATED.

Well, we go to the show and it is a blast and the liquor is free and I am inundated with gossip at every turn and we are shopping and drinking and eating hor deourves and at that moment there is no girlier place on the planet and I am truly, deeply happy.  Then, as we are all congregating in the front row that we so lovingly staked out early in the night, I spill my water all over me as I sit down, of course, because if I didn't do something stupid like that when people are watching me,  the Earth would stop spinning on its axis, and I spend the entire show with my lap drenched as my soaked to the skin onesie dress puddles around my bootie heels.  Classic.

At the end of the evening, Saucy is driving us home and she is explaining to us something called "Bacon Night" at this local pub, Byrne's, that she is planning on heading to after she drops our "lame asses" off.

To bring you up to date, a recurring theme of the night is that Kim has to service the account when she gets home (see: http://gratuitousguidance.blogspot.com/2011/03/servicing-account.html for an explanation) which we are all familiar with, except Sarah, and is yet another reason why we disgust her. You see, Kim sold her proverbial soul to her husband to get yet ANOTHER night on the town.

After Sarah exclaims, "BYE, ONSIE!!!" to the amusement of her loaded car full of equally loaded Moms, THIS is the last group text of the night:

Sarah:  "Good night, Moms."

Me:  "I love you.  Thanks for driving my ancient ass."

Megan: "I am jealous.  That bacon looks amazaballs."

Sarah:  "Going.  Going. Gone."

Brooke:  "I was already asleep.  Sarah, so happy to wake to you enjoying your bacon and we all know that Kim had some sausage.  XO.  Peace out.

I imagine all of us, all awash in the glow of our IPhones, illuminating our skincare and eye balm, laughing hysterically that can only be the magical result of a mixture of technology, red wine and a running inside joke on a perfect evening among other women.

"Meet the Morgans. Midwest's answer to Keeping Up with the Kardashians," I think, again, as I smile at the picture of bacon in a jar.

My advice to you, today, is two fold.  If you have sisters, embrace them...HARD.  And if you don't, adopt some, like I have.  Only, fuck off if you have your sights on the Morgan girls, cause I have FIRST DIBS!

Also, go to Rowe if you live in Columbus, or at least visit their website for inspiration. (www.roweboutique.com)  I am positively OBSESSED with their Smythe blazers and jackets.  The plaid boucle one below is very Chanel-like, and on my unattainable fashion wish list.
Seriously?  So cool, and sooo not in my tax bracket.

Kim said that I had good taste when we turned the tag over to reveal the whopping $795 price tag, but my Dad would just site this as another example of my "champagne taste on a beer budget".

Make that "champagne taste on an aerated Prisoner in a solo cup budget", beaaccchhees, cause I'm lookin' down at the World from my sky high booties from now on!

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