« Scary Story | Main | We Had a Blast »

September 20, 2011

Margie's Story Time: Sleeping Margie

Margie's Story Time: Sleeping Margie

By Me, Margie

It's time again for another tale from Margie's Big Book of Stories.  This one, like all the great stories in the world, has many lessons and if I were you I'd write them down because you are totally getting all of this for free.

It all started when one of my cousins returned from a trip to Coronado and decreed (that means rushed in, dropped her bags, and made a breathless announcement to the rest of us) that we were all getting our belly buttons pierced.

I barely looked up, because I was trying to finish a french pedicure and you have to focus or you'll mess it up.  It's this kind of ability to concentrate that would make me a great surgeon or maybe an astronaut, but alas I have to answer phones.  Which is why I am able to multitask and need my own office with a door.

Rocco was on board immediately.  He's been wanting us to get matching ink for ages, which I simply will not do while our Nonna is alive.  I mean, when you are blessed with a body like mine, all you need to decorate it au natural is, you know, another body, or maybe some red silk.  Anything else is overkill. Rita refuses to get a tattoo because she prefers to be covered in sailor.  That's right.  I could have said it but I am more clever than that, and I didn't even use a thesaurus, which is how I got Esteban the Phone Guy to help me set up my own private extension at the office that doesn't show up on the other phones.

Our cousin Rosie, who doesn't even have her ears pierced because of that thing when her mother sent her to the convent, was so excited, she was jumping up and down.  That girl is like a puppy.

I didn't even look up.  I just said:  "No. Way."  I didn't have to explain why.  I don't like needles.  Sure, I give blood, but that's a community service.  Plus, where else can you have someone warn you ahead of time: "You are going to feel a little prick."  

My other three cousins jumped on my laptop and started Googling or Binging or whatever to choose rings.  I focused on my last two toes.  Because that is where you can make a mistake, because you lose concentration and then you end up with a little toe that is all white and it ruins the whole damn thing.  It is this kind of single-mindedness that can sometimes lead to trouble and not just because you don't hear the doorknob until the door is totally open and you are busted.  Which is why I am getting Stephano the Locksmith to put a lock on my office door as soon as I get one.

By the time Stevie the Pizza Guy arrived (extra sausage) the three of them had changed subjects and were making fun of rich people's outfits.  We had to eat right away, because I had a dentist appointment in the morning and couldn't eat after 11.  This is because our dentist, who is also our cousin Dino, still uses the nitrous oxide, which is fantastic.  When Rosie was first in the convent and learning how to cross-stitch, she made him a sampler that says: "Just say N2O", which he has hanging in his private office, because he only uses it for family and he doesn't want anyone breaking in to get at it.  His office has a serious lock, and I took a picture of it with my phone so I could show Stephano.  Before they left, we confirmed that Rocco would take me to the dentist and Rita would pick me up.  No one lets Rosie drive yet. She's too easily distracted by the A&F billboards.

Everything seemed normal - I only had one cavity, so it was pretty quick, although it's hard to tell on the gas.  Before I knew it, I was in Rita's car having a nice Starbucks. It never even occurred to me to make sure Rita used my Gold Starbucks Card. Which should have been my first internal warning.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a strange bedroom.  Before I even opened my eyes, I realized there was something sticky on my stomach.  Uh oh.  Boys and girls, if you don't already know it, those two things at the same time can mean that something happened, and you need to proceed with caution.  Also - don't think that works because just ask our cousin Raven who had to get married in March - when no one wants to get married because the weather sucks and you can't get  a decent fresh bouquet to save your life.

Before I could even figure out which cousin to blame first, I heard Rosie whispering in the next room.  "I just love it, don't you?  Look at the way it bounces because it's happy!  I'm not even mad that it hurt even though you told me there was no way because the belly button is all scar tissue and has no nerve endings."  Boys and girls, I worry about Rosie.  Because that is just bullshit and she should know better than to listen to Rita and Rocco when they are on a mission.  Also, I could see that we needed to get Rita another book because she obviously didn't understand our illustrations with the half-peeled bananas.

When I was done rolling my eyes, I lifted my head up.  Sure enough, there was a gauze bandage taped to my stomach.  I am telling you, regardless of what is under there, if that tape messes up my tan lines, there is going to be hell to pay.  I took a moment to congratulate myself on the choice of the red silk set.  A lady does like to dress up for company, even if she is passed out and across town. It's just good manners, you know?

Just as I was gently peeling away a corner of the tape, Rosie bounced into the room with her t-shirt tied under her bra.  Good grief.  She had a cross hanging from her belly button.  It caught the light every time she moved. Swarvoski crystals, no doubt, because no way does that girl have the money for real ice. The way she was moving around, I was just happy it wasn't a bell.

Next came Rita and no surprise there, an anchor.  Same sparkle.  Rita has never been known for her subtlety.  Hers was bigger, no doubt because she was planning to replace it with a budweiser pin at the first opportunity.  I hoped the weight of it gave her a nasty scar.

Rocco brought up the rear, and I was afraid to look.  The possibilities were endless. It was an arrow. No crystals.  Just steel. He was carrying a glossy catalog with pictures of other charms. Good thing we have a cousin in the gold business who could get jewelry at cost.

I looked at them and they all took a big step back.  That's right.  Any Mancini worth her salt can fry a person at 20 feet with a look.  I learned mine from Uncle Sal, who is known in some circles at The Incinerator.  

"Now Margie," Rocco took point, palms up in a gesture of surrender, "if you don't like it, we can take it out right now and no one will ever know.  And it won't hurt a bit."  Where have I heard that one before?

I tried to sit up and winced.  No pain, my fine ass.  Someone had stuck a needle in my skin and then left something in there that was not part of the original equipment.  Plus, my mouth was all fuzzy. Rita rushed over with some water. "Dino said lots of water.  He, uh, was here a little bit ago when we couldn't get you to wake up.  I mean, I only gave you one Xanax which isn't even enough to get the Aunts to stop talking, so I guess you need to be more careful when you mix things but Dr. Etienne is on his way and he is going to check your vital signs and stuff."

"He can check my stuff too." smirked Rocco.  Rosie nodded and bounced away to get the door.  That girl needs to get better bras or she's going to hurt herself.

Etienne rushed in with his black doctor bag.  He says he only carries it for me, because I like surprises.  I guess most doctors don't use them any more which is a shame.  He took one look at me, propped up on my elbows with my jeans half open,  finished removing the bandages, and then sat back.  I was afraid to look.  But his eyes were very sparkly, and it wasn't just the reflection of the belly charm.  He didn't even turn around. He just said: "Get out.  She needs rest."  

"I am sleepy" I said, stretching and faking a small yawn.  "Uh huh," he said, leaning down to get a better look at my new, shiny gold letter M. "Hey! I observed - it's for Me, Margie." The Doctor didn't even look up.  He just said "Mmmmmmmm"  Then he licked his lips and said: "I think I need to check closely for any signs of infection. Nice tan. Lines."  Turns out it was a good idea I was already horizontal because, you know, doctors study anatomy and they know things.  Between gasps, I heard glasses clinking together in the next room and Rocco giggling: "The doctor is in."

The End.  Because the rest is private stuff which a lady does not tell unless there is lots of tequila involved.

This is such a good story that you get to pick your own moral:

1.  Never trust a cousin bearing Starbucks.

2. If anyone tells you it's not going to hurt, they are probably lying.  Your only option is to decide if the gain is worth the pain.

3. Always wear nice underwear because you never know who is going to see it.

4.  Beware of little pricks.  They can lead to big trouble.







TrackBack URL for this entry:

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference Margie's Story Time: Sleeping Margie:


As I read your alternate morals of the story, I kept replaying in my mind the closing tune from "Fractured Fairy Tales."

Dear God in Heaven....

Dearest Cugina Margie,

Oh my gosh, I'm so excited about the belly button charms! I can't wait until Father Anthony sees my new cross! I bet none of the other sisters at the convent had a belly-button cross. I wonder if I can find some sparkly underwear to go with it? I bet Father Anthony would like that even better! (Know what? I should probably stop calling him Father Anthony since he's not a priest anymore and I'm not a nun anymore, but hey, you can take the girl out of the convent...) ((Also, sometimes on very special nights, he still wears his collar for me. I can call him Father Anthony then, right? Just saying.))

Anyway, I can't wait until our next cugina expedition! Rocco says he's getting me ink! What does "getting ink" mean? Are we shopping for office supplies? I do need a new refill for my printer - someone has been printing pictures when I'm not home and using all my ink!

Okay, so I've gotta run out for a little bit and take Nonna Carmella to the podiatrist. I'll call you when I get back, ok? I wanted someone to come over later and help me make pizzelles.

Cugina Rosie

You-Margie - you are a totally awsome chicka. An' this here one's for you. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEm5ti2w5Eo&NR=1 You show 'em, y'know. OK?

Rosie - it is way to early for anyone to be this excited about anything online. I will call you later. Some of us have to work.

Also - I want the chocolate pizzelles this time. No Anisette. Yeah I know it's heresy. Tough.

Well, thank goodness! For someone who OCHFTS, it's been a long dry spell from Margie's exploits with the Steves, like in some decades-long marriage, if you know whattImean.

About Her, Margie's morals of the story: nodding

It's Me, Margie again.

Thanks everyone. And to my cuginas - stop calling me. I KNOW the prince wakes up Sleeping Beauty with a kiss. Go read the ending again. And if I could have five minutes of peace and quiet without you idiotas calling me, maybe the prince could wake me up properly today!

No door. No lock. What, do you think we're dumb or something? (Don't answer that.) And now I know how that A&F billboard got into the storeroom. Which Steve helped you with that caper, may I ask?

The Boss

Dear Writer Ladies,

So, like, I tried to explain to Margie that that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" crapola was stupid for soldiers, because it does not matter who you love when you love your country enough to sign up to defend it.

But, like, when it comes to blabbing all over the interwebz about your cousins and their new piercings, when they were supposed to be a SURPRISE and a SECRET, Margie is all "Don't Ask, Do Tell."

So now, like half the fleet is calling to see my new anchor. It is a good thing I know the meaning of "pace yourself."

Margie, you are on my list.

Cousin Rita

As always...Me, Margie is a plethora (look it up) of information.

Ciao Bellas!

What a wonderful day - first, DADT is finally kicked out the door, and then a Mancini Blog. Free feathers at my salon for anyone who mentions the blog!!

Margie, you must admit that after all your fussing about it, you, in fact love your body art and so does Steve. I say Steve as if there is only one. We call that discretion in the salon business and maybe Rita should look that one up instead of telling Zio Sal every little thing so that he calls his sister and then she, my Mama, calls me for a sit-down.

Rosie, sweetness, this is also a word you should learn. Not everyone is as open-minded as the Mancinis.

And for all of you, in honor of this great day, a great scene:


Ummm, You, Margie....beware of big pricks, too. They can really hurt. But in a good way.

If I could be half the woman Her, Margie is when I grow up.....

Only the price of gold prevents me from getting a naval piercing.
However, reading your blog, Margie, is golden.
Thanks for the laughs..you are making my day.

Hi, again. It's Me, Margie.

Pam - I hear that, sister!

Boss Lady/Artiste: I have no idea what you are talking about. Plus my cousin Mary, the lawyer, says not to confirm or deny anything either.

I will just go back to filing and answering the phones out here with no privacy whatsoever.

Oh, look - it's UPS time. We will be switching to voicemail because I can already see there is a big package to deal with.

Margie,I've always wanted a little tattoo. Your blog may inspire me . . .or not.

William, I think you say that every time She, Margie blogs. Hmmm.

I LOVE your family.... they make mine seem so boring, which is saying something...

I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. My head is spinning though. How do you keep track of everybody?

Margie, you know I love you and could not possibly live (or operate the printer) without you, but ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. That's all. Just ouch.

Although I am very happy they finally retired that stupid Don't Ask Don't Tell. Even the name was stupid. It sounds like it was made up by a preschool teacher (no offense to preschool teachers, because I loved every single one of ours.)

Hmm, I was pretty sure I posted earlier -- perhaps I offended Mr. Typepad? Welcome back, Margie -- braver woman than I am . . .

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been saved. Comments are moderated and will not appear until approved by the author. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.


Post a comment

Comments are moderated, and will not appear until the author has approved them.

The Breast Cancer Site