Last week Betty and I were talking about this new condo project in our neighborhood.
She'd heard through neighborhood gossip (seriously, you wouldn't believe how many people she meets or how much she learns while having a cigarette on the sidewalk) that they're being built by Chris's employer - the unethical developer.
Betty said she'd like to know more about the condos.
"The problem with the developer," I said, "is that I just wouldn't trust him. He's such a douchebag. And I know that's a terrible world."
"Dishrag? Well, I was going to say something much worse. I was going to call him a sleazebag."
She says the word like it's on fire.
"No, Mama. A douchebag."
"Oh. Oh! That is a terrible word!"
A minute or so later I hear her muttering, "Douchebag?"
I can see her turning it over in her mind, in the same way you might examine a barnacled piece of driftwood you found on the shore. Hmm. Odd.
So Chris turned up just as Nick was heading out to the corner store to get a six-pack of beer.
Chris came in and sat down, and Betty asked him about the condos, and whether or not the developer was involved. Which led me to explain how Betty had learned the word 'douchebag' a little earlier.
Shortly thereafter, Nick returned with beer in hand. He'd bought Blue Moon so Betty could try wheat beer.
Betty loves beer. Or rather, she loves half a beer. If you offer her beer, she will ask if you'd like to split one.
Nick pulled out some oranges and started cutting them to stick in the beer.
He poured a glass for each of us, garnished it, and suggested we head out back. Betty said she'd join us in a bit, so Nick, Chris and I picked ours up and turned to leave the kitchen.
Betty waved at Chris. "See ya, douchebag!"
Chris blinked, grinned, and replied, "Don't forget your beer, douchebag!"
At which point Nick's jaw made this big THUNK as it hit the floor.