Dial "B" for Boobie!

I should like to recount a conversation I had last night in which I discovered my predilictions are sometimes quaint dinner conversation topics for New Yorkers. A little backstory: I met Viv and her Mrs years ago when we all lived together in a hippy commune in upstate New York (Viv wrote sonnets, Mrs cataloged the commune's coinage, and I perfected my skills in interpretive dance; those were happy times). Over the years, we've travelled the globe taking our show on the road and occasionally checking into Betty Ford together. Once V and Mrs settled into New York City proper, she and I continued to communicate via a nationwide system of mimes and the occasional phone call (often looking for bail money and/or coordinating our next rehab appointment). I don't call as often as I used to since finding out that the Mrs doesn't particularly appreciate 4am phone calls from slurring Midwesterners. So, point being, it is a rare moment when we are both available and awake for phone conversation. Last night was one such occasion.

While having dinner and drinks with friends here in town, I happened to notice a notice for an upcoming show by a band Viv had turned me on to (that band is Metric. When I saw that, I immediately thought "I must tell Viv. And also find out about her upcoming trip to Rome!". So on the drive home (yes, driving and talking on the phone are bad (but not illegal out here in the West yet), mmkay), I dialed up the East Coast (after checking the time to make sure that 10pm was still within the window of acceptibility for Mrs). Here is a snippet of the conversation reproduced:

Mrs (anwering): Hello?
Me: Hi, is this Mrs?
Mrs: Yes.
Me: Hey, it's Me!
Mrs: Who?
Me: Me!
Mrs: Me?
Me: Yeah, Me..you know, we had that threesome together once? Don't tell me you forgot? Upstate New York? The hippy commune? You were wearing the coin hat?
Mrs: Ohhh, Me! It's kind of early for you to call isn't it?
Me: Yes! How are you? What are you doing?
Mrs: Good. Actually, we were just talking about you.
Me: What? Why would you be talking about me?
Mrs: We were talking about how you like big boobies.
Me: What?!
Mrs: You like them, don't you?
Me: Well, yes, but...um, are you kidding me? Were you really just talking about me and my fondness for such things?
Mrs: Yes.
Me: I find that hard to believe, one of the few times I call you guys and you're talking about me and boobies?
Mrs: Yep.
Me: How did that come about, if I can ask?
Mrs: Well, we were, I don't know, in the kitchen or something and Viv reached over and grabbed my boob..
Me: uh huh..
Mrs: ..and I said something like "Too bad Me isn't here, you two could share your love of big boobies"...
Me: uh huh..
Mrs: and then I think we both said something like "Yeah, it's too bad her current girlfriend isn't well-endowed"
Me: You are kidding me.
Mrs: Nope.
Me: So before I call you guys on the phone for the first time in like a year or months or something, you have been lamenting the state of my current breast situation.
Mrs: Yep.
Me: You are sick. I love it!

....extended conversation with Mrs about our sex lives (including frequency and techniques, etc; Viv in the background either cringing at the sharing or adding comments here and there)

Mrs: So, you wanna talk to V then?
Me: Sure! Love ya, don't go changin'
Viv: Sweetie, do you have any extra Xanax you can mail me, I'm flying to Rome in a week.
Me: Sweetie, shall I book our usual rooms at Betty Ford then? For you return?
Viv: This time I get the top bunk, darling..I'm tired of being on the bottom.
Me: I'm sure you are, sweetie, I'm sure you are..

And fade out.

So that was our phone conversation last night, more or less. Gotta run *kiss kiss*