A Tale of Two Garths. Chapter 25. – The mystery of the Chinese Basket.


Garth was moving to LA! Garth was moving to LA! Garth was moving to LA! I was so excited I was doing the happy dance.
“So do you want to get an apartment together?” I asked him through the insanity that was Claire’s birthday party.
“MORE SHOTS!” some one yelled from the kitchen area.
“No, I think I’m going to live at my parents’ house,” he replied. Was that my heart? I had to ask myself. I had just heard a deafening crack over Primus’s My Name Is Mud.
“You would rather live with your parents than live with me?” I asked him. I was seriously astounded. What the hell was he thinking? More importantly what was I thinking? Here I was waiting months for this guy. We had already lived together in San Diego and now it seemed as if we were taking a step backwards in the relationship.
“I’m just not ready to live together,’ he explained.
“Weeeeeeeee!!!” Claire squealed as she ran past us in a skirt that was way too short.
“I…” was all I could say.
“You understand right?”
“Sure,” I told him, half completely pissed off and half heart broken.

I got up from the couch we had been sitting on and moved into my bedroom where there was a pretty large group of people smoking weed. Mostly my weed. I plopped down on my bed and everyone who was already on my bed made room for me. There were people on the bed, people on the floor. The room was packed to capacity. The purple bong came my way and I inhaled the healing chronic smoke. So he doesn’t want to live with me. That doesn’t me he doesn’t love me and want to be with me, I thought to myself. Isn’t denial a nice place to live every now and then?
“So Stacy, what the hell is that for?” Paul asked with a devlish grin while pointing to a large circular bolt hanging out of the ceiling in my bedroom.
“Umm… that was here when I got here,” I told him as my face grew flush.
“Sure it was,” he continued. He wasn’t going to let this one go.
“No Paul, I swear it was here when I got here,” I told him with my shut the fuck up look.
“What’s it for?” another friend asked.
“Plants,” I quickly responded while shooting a dirty look at Hung.

The bolt truly didn’t belong to me. It belonged to Hung and was in the room when I moved into it. When I first moved into the bedroom the girls were kind enough to have a futon set up for me. That is so nice. I thought to myself as I walked into my new room and saw the futon pulled out into the bed position. These girls are so thoughtful. Why is there a rope hanging from the ceiling? The girls had hung a rope from the giant bolt in the ceiling to one end of the futon. The way they hung it made it look like the futon would topple over without the use of the magic rope. Come to find out, the rope wasn’t holding up the futon. The futon was just fine without it. The giant bolt that was stuck in the ceiling was for what is called a Chinese Basket. If you don’t know what one is, I have found a lovely picture of one to help educate you.

I’m just kidding. It looks a little something like this.

The Chinese Basket if a fairly well known sex toy. I however had never heard of one until I met Hung. I thought it was pretty odd that Hung decided to use a Chinese hanging basket considering she was Vietnamese. But to each her own.

“THAT is not for plants,” Paul said, while rolling in hysterics. It’s for a Chinese hanging basket!”
“What’s that?” Hung’s older brother Steven asked.
“It’s a sex swing. Stacy sits inside it and the guy…”
I just sat there on the bed with my mouth open. I was so embarrassed. Please tell me this is not happening. Then to top it all off my so called boyfriend was in the next room and once he heard about my kinky Chinese Basket he was surely going to wonder just who I had been using it with.
“Stacy, I never knew you were such a freak!” someone said.
“Damn girl. You are kinky!” someone else chimed it. And it just went on and on until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“IT’S NOT MINE!” I exclaimed. I looked at Hung and Hung looked back at me and shook her head no. What do you want me to do here Hung? I love you but I just can’t take the pressure.
“It’s hers, okay!” I said, pointing directly at Hung. “Why yes officer. The one in the middle is the crazy, hot, sex freak.”
“Hung!” her brother said with a mixed look on his face. I think it was part shock, part pride.
“I had no idea you were such a freak,” he said, trying not to laugh. I felt bad for throwing my friend under the bus, but that was not my bolt, officer. I have never seen that bolt in my life!

After the mystery of the Chinese Basket was solved I walked back into the living room to hang out with some work friends I had invited to the party. The party was in full swing and people were getting drunk. Claire especially. It seemed as if the drunker she got the shorter her skirt got.
“You cannot wear that,” I warned Claire before the party.
“But I just bought it,” she countered.
“Take it back. You can pretty much see your ass cheeks,” Hung added.
“So I’ll wear tights,” Claire told us as she took her blue patent leather skirt to her room determined to wear it for her birthday festivities. But at this point in the evening the skirt looked more like a belt and you could see Claire’s white granny panties showing through her black tights.
“Man, Tina is beautiful,” Garth said as he walked up to me.
“What?”
“Claire’s friend Tina. I remember her from high school and she was pretty then, but she has really gotten hot,” he said. I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to hose him down.
“She’s out of your league,” I told Garth, not sure if he was still my boyfriend or Tina’s.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She likes money baby, and you don’t have any,” I informed him.
“I bet she would go out with me.”
Am I seriously having this conversation with my boyfriend?
“Yeah, keep the dream alive,” I told him as I walked back towards my bedroom. I would rather go back and admit that I lied about Hung and that it was indeed my Chinese Basket than to spend one more minute talking to Garth about how he stood a chance with Tina.

As I walked into my room I noticed my friend Robby coming out of my bathroom. Which was totally fine. A man using the bathroom is a normal, natural thing. A man in the shower while another man is using my bathroom is not.
“What’s going on?” I asked Robby as I looked over his shoulder towards my bathroom.
“Nothing,” Robby responded nervously.
“Is there someone in my shower?”
“Ah…. yes?”
“Robby, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he said as he pretty much ran out of the room towards the living room. Robby was acting really weird. Let’s be honest this was LA and I had a lot of friends that were actors and I’m totally down for the gay thing, But Robby was NOT gay. At least as far as I knew. I have four girlfriends that can attest to that fact. All I wanted to know was what the hell the guy in my shower was doing. A minute or so later the bathroom door opened and it was Paul.
“Were you just peeing in my shower?” I asked him as he came down the hall.
“No,” he said, but his eyes betrayed him.
“Dude. I can’t believe you just peed in my shower. Not cool,” I told him as I turned my back on him and went back to watch Garth show Tina just exactly how much money he didn’t have.

I walked back out into the living room and that’s when I saw a drunken Claire shoving pizza down her pie hole.
“I’m so hungry,” she slurred. “This is soooo good.”
“Where did you get that?” I asked, genuinely surprised. I recognized that pizza. It was the infamous salad pizza that my restaurant made. We had food for the party, but we didn’t have food from Stanley’s.
“In the fridge,” Claire said around a mouthful of pizza. Actually, what she said was “idehfwidge,” but she was pointing at the refrigerator, so I deftly figured it out.
“Yes, but where did it come from before it magically appeared in our fridge,” I asked patiently.
“Dunno,” she shrugged as she finished off the last bite.
It was then that I noticed the white bag on the counter. The white bag with the Stanley’s logo. The white bag with the Stanley’s logo and the black magic marker that clearly read “Kirsten’s dinner. DO NOT EAT.”
“Claire, that was Kirsten’s pizza. You weren’t supposed to eat that. That’s her dinner.”
“Ohhh…” she smiled guiltily, but couldn’t get anything else out before…
“PAUL JUST HIT ROBBY!” came a yell from the front door. There is probably something I should tell you about Paul. Paul has three testicals. I shit you not. So his testosterone level is roughly 50% more than that of a normal man. Or, put another way, he’s got 50% more hostile, unpredictable asshole in him.

Paul reentered the party hopped up on one extra testicle.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I yelled at him.
“Because he told you I took a piss in your shower!” he yelled back.
“He didn’t say anything you asshole. I guessed it!”
“Well he needed to be taught a lesson.”
“So you sucker punched him in the back of the head?” my friend Becky added. Poor Robby was so scared of Paul at this point he never came back in the party and ended up going home.

“Hey, who ate my pizza?!” Kirsten yelled from inside the kitchen. I went to the kitchen because I had to fess up to Kirsten what had happened to her beloved personal salad pizza.
“I’m so sorry Kirsten, Claire ate your pizza. She was on the last slice by the time I caught her.”
“THAT WAS MY DINNER!” Kirsten yelled. More for Claire’s benefit than mine.

I was so tired and sick of everyone at this point I just walked into the dining room and sat down against one of the walls. Hung looked tired and joined me on the floor where if we had had enough money, we would probably have put a dining room table and some chairs.
“I hate everyone right now,” I told her.
“Me too,” she said. She and I sat there for a while watching the drunken insanity. People spilling booze on our already dirty carpet, Kirsten giving death looks to Claire, Garth showing Tina his maxed out credit cards. Then came the finale when Claire jumped up on the bar that separated our kitchen from our living room.
“HEY EVERYONE! IT’S MY BIRTHDAY! WOOOOOOOOOOO!” She yelled while flinging a towel around.
“Is it just me or does she have a giant hole in the ass of her tights?” I said to Hung still sitting on the dining room floor.
“That, my friend, is a humungous hole,” Hung responded laughing.
“Do you think we should tell her?”
“Nah, fuck her,” Hung said as we watched Claire’s white ass looming over the crowd.

As the party began winding down people started leaving, which is customary. What is not customary is that the birthday girl left too. Her boyfriend however was still at the party. Dammit, Claire! So we got to spend yet another night looking for her. That’s when I decided: Garth or no Garth, my ass was moving.

Love it? Hate it? Let me know! Send questions, comments, brownie recipes or random brainfarts to: mrsdiagnosed@yahoo.com

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