Recent comments on my blog have reminded me of a story. Often when something particularly amusing happens to me involving quotations, I write (type) them down as soon as I can, and I save them in a massive Word document sitting on my home computer, which is nearing a hundred pages now. (Observant readers should probably know by now that I love repeating conversations that amused me.) Thanks to that document, I can bring you a reasonably clear version of the quotes, as opposed to one obscured by half a decade of forgetfulness.
Now, whenever you hear one of my friends use the phrase "Native American birthday card," you'll know what they're talking about. This happened at lunch one day in college.
Jill: Guess what I got [my boyfriend] for his birthday.
Jill: (in a sultry voice, with eyebrows raised) A Native American birthday card!
Angie: (faux impressed) Wow!
Everyone else at the table seems confused.
Me: What? What’s a Native American birthday card, like… two blowjobs in a row?
Jill: (upset) No! It’s just a card. They have a painting by some Native American artist.
Me: Then why did you say it like that? (imitating Jill’s sensual voice) “Native American birthday card!”
Jill: I… I don’t know. They sell them at the Union.
Me: Finally, something worthwhile you can buy with your [university debit card].
Currently listening: Olive—Creature of Comfort