Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler

with a double-gay Bay Breeze.
    "When do you think you'll be starting your first period?" I asked my brother.
    "Chelsea, I think we both know I've been getting my period since the third grade."
    Greg is not a gay man, but he has some very gay qualities, which he is not only quick to admit to but even quicker to embrace. Today he is married to a Russian woman and has three small Russian sons who live in New Jersey and speak with thick Russian accents. This dinner took place long before we lost him to Communism and room-temperature orange juice.
    "Can you two please not talk about periods?" Sloane piped up, looking sideways at Mike.
    I didn't know Mike very well at the time, but what I did know was that trying to get a conversation started with him was like trying to go sleigh-riding in a straitjacket. He was extremely quiet.
    Greg and I are not quiet and have never pretended to be. We both have extremely unfortunate personalities and thrive on embarrassing anyone we're in a room with. Somehow we have both managed to carve out lives for ourselves and yet maintain an attitude of utter disrepair. He is a certified public accountant, and I have a real life.
    "When do you think you'll get our sister knocked up?" Greg asked Mike, taking a bite out of the cherry that came in his drink. Sloane was five years older than Mike and was interested in getting married, penetrated, and knocked up. In that order. The best news about Mike was that, unlike Sloane, he had not been captured by Mormons.
    From what I could gather by his facial expression, Mike didn't seem to have any problem with the topics of penetration or menstruation.
    "I have mushrooms," I announced.
    "Oh, that's nice," Sloane said.
    "Where did you get them?" Greg inquired.
    "From a drug dealer."
    He put his hand out. "Please give me some."
    I pulled a Ziploc bag from of my purse. "Would you like some mushrooms, Mike?"
    Mike looked at Sloane, who looked back at him like he was four years old.
    "Nah," he said, "that's okay."
    Greg pointed his finger in Mike's face, sternly. "Mike, if you want some mushrooms, my suggestion is that you have some mushrooms. These are your last months as a free man."
    "Mike is not doing mushrooms," announced Sloane.
    "Fine," I said, making two small piles on the table. I then proceeded to eat my portion of the mushrooms as I perused the menu, trying to decide how much food would prevent me from getting a good high.
    "That's really nice, you guys. You're just gonna get high at the table and then what?"
    "We'll probably end up robbing a liquor store, Sloane. Mushrooms can be very violent," Greg told her with no inflection, grimacing at the flavor of the drugs. "These taste like a moose's asshole."
    "Uh, I wouldn't bring up anyone's asshole at the same time you're holding a Bay Breeze with your pinky pointed toward the sun. It's better to mix it with some food. Wanna split the seafood tower?"
    Greg nodded in agreement and then leaned in. "Do you know that in five states it is legal to mail your dump to another person, but if you do it more than once, you can get arrested?"
    Sloane lifted her elbow to the table, resting her chin on her fist, and looked in any direction but ours. "This is just great. This is lovely dinner conversation, by the way. I'm so glad we did this."
    I for one couldn't have been more fascinated. "You can mail a shadoobie to another person?"
    "That's correct."
    Even Mike was flabbergasted. "Wow. That's pretty intense."
    "But, Chelsea," Greg said sternly, "you cannot do it twice."
    "Well, that's stupid," I told him. "Who would need to do it twice? If the person you sent it to the first time doesn't understand that a shadoobie in the mail means that that friendship is on the rocks , he certainly isn't going to figure it out the second time. That would be a total waste of a stamp."
    "Or two stamps, Chelsea. Depending on just how big that shadoobie is."
    "So where are you guys going to go when you start hallucinating?" Sloane asked.