When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
It looks like I qualify for some ads on WordPress. I have no idea what they’ll be. I’m hoping for double dildos, fur purses, Camel Lights, Cartier “Saphire” blue lacquer pens, Betsey Johnson intimates, Ben and Jerry’s Mint Oreo, Showcase Cinemas, Apple, Trident Layers, and Lancome Porcelain Concealer. I want to be clear: I have always been in favor of selling out if it’s for money. If I make billions with these ads, I should add, I will use it for good. If I make fifty bucks, I’ll probably buy a quaalude and go to a movie. And buy Milk Duds.
What would you do with fifty bucks?
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Betsy Lerner 
Can you still buy quaaludes? What movie? Personally, I’m a Raisinette girl. But Betsy, you’re an inspiration to me. I don’t qualify for shit on WordPress.
Milk Duds would shatter my teeth.
Fifty bucks? Mani-pedi. They’re cheap around here. Apropos of nothing (except maybe money), I started reading Twilight today. In the B&N. Made it three-quarters of the way through.
I picked it up at the discard section of our library a few months back. I haven’t read it yet but I’d be more than happy to send it to you. You know, so you could finish it.
Oh, and how lame is it that I had to Google “mani-pedi?”
>>Oh, and how lame is it that I had to Google “mani-pedi?<<
Not as lame as my using the word itself. I don't know if it would be worth the postage to send Twilight to me, MSB, but I thank you deeply for the offer. I'll just check it out of the library. I just wanted to see what the fuss is about, and now I know.
I think I'm going to adopt a new behavior: binge-and-purge reading. As a result of yesterday's junk-lit gorge (I was going to say sh!t-lit but that would be too cruel. Besides,Twilight was fun). I made a vow to not do any reading today, except for emails, and I've already broken it twice (Isaac Bashevis Singer whilst on the pot, and this blog—at the dining table). My word count for the day is down about 5000% though! (Don't ask me about the writing word count though.)
Here’s my fifty bucks. Where do I pick up the quaaludes? I miss them so.
I just got tickets to see David Sedaris for a little over fifty. So, yeah, that’s what I’d do.
I’d bribe Lyra to give me one of her tickets.
You’d have to fight my husband for it.
Ultimate Cage Fight: Bookworm Man vs. The Librarian
(My money’s on The Librarian…)
$50? Jesus. I’d probably buy one of those core balls and Zumba dvd. It’s November–the beginning of fat ass season.
My big-assed wife (nickname: Saucy, for ‘heavy-bottomed saucepan’) took our kid to a rock-climbing birthday party. I stayed home, congratulating myself on male privilege, but apparently she got roped into ‘belaying’ the kids, which involved wearing a harness on her big ass, which I get a hardon just thinking about.
So my fifty: “The Black Diamond Momentum AL Climbing Harness provides all-around versatility for both summer and winter use without draining all the new-rope money out of your checking account. Despite the modest price, the Momentum AL Harness includes a bullhorn-shaped, well-padded waist-belt to ensure comfort even at precarious hanging belays. Four molded gear loops hold a large rack of cams or draws.”
You are one kinky ass motherfucker. I mean that in a sweet way, of course.
URL please. “Betsy Lerner”
Fuck the core ball. I’m getting me one of those big-ass accentuaters.
http://www.ebay.com/itm/Black-Diamond-Momentum-AL-Climbing-Harness-L-/170685819107
They look a bit bulkier than Spanx, though.
I picked a fine time to swear off talking dirty.
I’m taking 2 friends to happy hour.
(if you pick me, you’ll get to spend more of that $50 on you! coffee refills are free.)
Okay, make that 3 friends.
And can I just say, I’m very curious about Sarah’s perky country of the 32Bs. What a fine place that must be. Imagine the cute clothes these gals can wear. I mean, look at that bra!
i’ve been there, but i was only in 9th grade and didn’t truly appreciate the trip.
Imagine. In 20 years we’ll be wishing to look the way we do today.
It isn’t my country, Teri, though I did visit briefly in 2005.
But on the whole, I prefer the mountains . .
If I may speak for my people, there is unfortunately no correlation with hip size.
Take an agent out for lunch.
Colossally big bag of Doritos.
Will you bring those to happy hour?
Damn. Quaaludes have gotten expensive. And the government says inflation’s under control. Shee-it.
Fifty bucks would feed me for a week, easy. That’s what I would do with it. Convert it into food.
(Nice bra, but a little goofy. Women actually wear that sort of thing? What country?)
In the perky country of the 32B, my friend.
Delightful, Sarah W. Thank you for giving me a laugh this morning, I very much needed it.
A pound of licorice jelly beans and a bottle of Knob Creek.
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who love licorice and those who lack the imagination, verve, and savoir faire to LOVE licorice. I usually take my licorice straight but I’ll have to try that bourbon chaser.
I skip the jelly beans and the salted licorice drops and go straight for the dried roots. I don’t drink, but I’m sure they would make a good swizzle stick for the hooch.
Let’s see. Sushi Heaven with friends. Or, have my Mini-Schnauzer groomed. But probably just buy more books. It’s a good thing I put the cork in the jug many years ago, or that 50 would take me places I do not want to go, again.
Stick it in the “Disney Jar.” WDW is an expensive holiday but I just love it. And that $50 will buy hot dogs for four at Epcot!
50 bucks! Wow, in my my world that’s a lot of cash. Actually today only about 36 euros so I’d have to say a Saturday discount train ticket to Paris for a hang about day at Shakespeare And Company.
I would head off to the thermal pools over the hill and have an almighty massage.
I’m not as cheap a date anymore. For $500, I’d consider doping my kids but only if it meant I could have an extra hour of writing in the morning.
50 bucks is £31 (pounds).
1/2 back and neck massage.
1/2 hour. I don’t really want just half of my neck and shoulders done.
How scary is it that I thought you meant 1/2 neck and shoulders and didn’t blink? Seemed a practical use of funds to me.
A mom’s answer for sure. I’ve really made it!
See, and I just assumed Mr. Downith would take care of the other half.
Yes, just. For those of us with “just” issues.
Buy 5 turkeys for the food pantry.
Whenever I get a windfall I spend half and save half. Fifty bucks isn’t much, though, so I’d spend the whole thing. I’d probably stock up on cat food. Finances are a little iffy lately, so I’d want to make sure they get fed.
I’m poor, so it would get put aside for the heating bill, which will be colossal. I miss New York only for the free apt heating in winter. And for the incredible range of foodstuffs.
I read a book in which the author says he keeps a stack of one dollar bills to hand out to the homeless. There’s a guy downtown who sells his poems for a buck; kids who have come here and now want to get home; dads looking for diaper money; guys looking for work. I know this from the cardboard signs they hold out in front of them, in all sorts of weather. Whenever I can, I roll down my window and give them money. If I had a stack of dollar bills, I’d always have cash on hand.
that’s what I’d do with 50 dollars today.
I know a guy who carries five dollars in his pocket so he can hand it over to beggars, destitute, homeless, panhandlers, whatever. He doesn’t give it to just anybody. There has to be something about them that triggers his intuition. He calls the dollars his “angel money,” says sometimes his god sends angels among us disguised as the needy, to test the depths of our hearts.
Just today at lunch he gave the five to a tall slender young man pushing a pram with a toddler in it and walking with a very pregnant woman who was wearing an old dress too thin for the weather. The couple stopped him on a downtown street as he was walking to the library. The man asked if he had any money so they could buy food for the toddler, and the woman asked if maybe he could buy them a meal. He thought there might be a scam going on and they weren’t angels, but the toddler no doubt was, as was the fetus.
Tetman, If I saw anyone pushing a pram, god-help you, without a toddler in it, I would have my doubts about what he would do with my five dollars. I have Finally figured out your problem, Tetman, you need to read Everything Mark Twain has ever written. Everything. You have all the raw material, but, it seems, you just don’t know what to do with it. I hope, again, you take this to heart and not the bottom of your spine. Of Course!
Jeff, you and I are a lot alike. If we more often knew what we were talking about, we would more often be worth paying attention to.
More alike than I bet you care to remember, and yet, more alike than I bet I care to remember. Life is weird. Yet, I feel, and at this I feel, because my mind gives me license, you are worth paying attention to. Again, you seem to have the raw material, yet, it comes off as “been there, done that.” Which is actually fairly typical of university prisoners. There is a help group for that sort of syndrome. It’s called Fucking It Up. The more Christian among us, who, somehow have decided that fuck and shit and cunt and cocksucker and bastard type words have no meaning, actually just let it get it on with a whole angry heart, there are no measures. Death will come laughing at your door one way or the other, and that, in our opinion, is worth something.
P.S. The They, is only me, and my fantasy friends.
I’d upgrade my collection of Bob Dylan records to CDs and play “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” first.
You’ll miss the pop and hiss.
Word.
Oh, this is exciting.
I like the mani-pedi idea. Not so keen on Quaaludes and a movie. I love micro-brewery beer. (Canadian don’t ya know) Go out to a mid-priced restaurant. Amazon and buy books.
Ain’t it fun to dream! Even if it is only fifty bucks…
So here’s a thing with me: When I come into money, whether $50 or a more substantial amount, I generally don’t spend it or even fantasize about buying anything. I lock it in the bank like Scrooge McDuck or something. I just save that shit with no real plans for it other than the vague notion of a rainy day.
I won a small writing grant recently, with no strings attached, and I actually thought twice before using part of it to pay for a place to stay so I could have my own private writing retreat to work on the novel that won me the grant in the first place. Isn’t that sad? Why am I not one of those writers who uses every penny she comes into to quite her job and spend that time writing instead? *That* is what kind of makes me feel like a sellout.
$10 in the fun fund, breakfast out with my wife and child, a soft cover novel and a previously viewed checkout counter kiddie DVD; Twix bar if there’s a piece of paper and some coin still left.
A couple bottles of bourbon so I can get the fruitcakes I’m making good and drunk.
Decisions, decisions: $50 just about covers the water bill, but I’m going to an antique clock show this weekend and that money would also get me some mainsprings and some parts I need for the ten clocks in my collection that need dire help. It would also pay for all the fabric I need for a certain outfit I’d like to make for the holidays. Great. A nice day-dream on the morning I’m paying bills.
Depressingly, I would pay the water bill and with the change, buy groceries.
Ah, but then you could take a nice, hot tub soak and enjoy the small box of chocolates (or Milk Duds?) you purchased at the grocery store.
As long as I remember to put those chocolates right into my pocketbook where no one can make off with them first. Must remember that next time I get a windfall.
two books
or a book and five glossies
or, go crazy and get 10 glossies
and then i’d cover the dirty chai latte expense and babysitting fees myself while pretending not to have a thing in the world to do and spend the whole afternoon outside the Longest Avenue Heine Brothers in The HIghlands. Of course, i’d have to stop for sushi on the way home. in the end, the $50 would end up costing me approximately sixty bucks.
I’d roll to NYC for twelve hours on the Megabus, spend an afternoon wandering aimlessly and trying to finagle my way into a show while surviving solely on mustard packets from street vendors, before hopping the bus for the twelve-hour trip back home that same night. Duh. I can’t believe no one else gave that same answer.
You know how to live. Seriously.
Cheese. Cheese is my quaaludes.
A HUGE hunk of St. Andre cheese with rosemary garlic flatbread crackers and a bottle of Pinot Grigio. For dessert–grilled pizza with smoked gouda, fontina, carmelized onions, a couple of handfuls of unpronouncable mushrooms, a drizzle of truffle oil, a sprinkle of fresh thyme.
And that big ass climbing harness to wear afterwards, maybe during.
I miss cheese.
Buy that bra. I really need a new one. Mine look like I’ve been wearing them since ’97.
I’m revising my answer. I’d pay the ticket that little brat just gave me. First ticket in 48 years. Pissant.
Be smart, of course, and for fear of my life, give it to my girlfriend. I trust her, and as luck will have it, somehow, she trusts me. It works.
You are hilarious. Thank you for making me laugh.