Nursing Home Hotties

My friend Tess and I have been best friends since, well, since it's been too long to remember when. We've seen each other through divorces, wayward children, shared deaths of our furry children (RIP Molly and Rico), her remarriage (love ya. Eduardo!), my non-remarriage, but several relationships gone bad, many Halloweens (our favorite holiday!), and countless other triumphs and tragedies.

I know Mexican food makes her stomach flip out and she knows those little Japanese sushi rolls turn mine. We both love vintage clothes and even though I would never get a tattoo,I support her right to get a gi-normous one on her forearm. Even though it is the size of a small boat. Heck, it's her arm. If she wanted to streak her hair magenta (and she has!), I'd support it.

We couldn't be more opposite. She's cute and short, I'm lanky and tall, she has jet black hair, and I have blonde. But one thing we both know is we'll be friends for life. We've shopped together, laughed together, sewed together, gotten drunk together, and cried together. And, we've decided, we might as well die together.

Yes, I know it sounds morbid to be thinking this far in advance, but even though we're still hot (at least in our minds and that's all that matters...duh!), we have to face the fact that we're not getting any younger. I won't say that o-word, because Tess and I steadfastly refuse to be that which is probably why every Halloween, we can be found wearing something ridiculously too young for us along with our staple, fishnet stockings and high heels.

But while we're facing facts, we also have to face the fact that women usually outlive men (sorry, Eduardo) and I have about as much possibility of getting remarried as I do getting hit by a train, Once again, it will be Tess and I, the two amigas alone. Although we're not going without a fight, we have decided if we have to face the dreaded nursing home (gasp!), we're going to do it in style. And we'll make sure to leave our mark on the entire nursing home administration long after we're dead and gone.

We've nominated my son, Cody, to make all the arrangements for our stay in the ritziest nursing home he can find. Cody, we figure has the only really tender heart out of all five of our collective children as opposed to the other four who would just give us a tin cup and tell us to hit the road.

He'll search and search till he finds a home suitable for women of our stature...the one with the indoor pool and the pedicures and the hottest octogenarians. It's got to have an on-site beauty salon, because Tess swears that when she's old, she's gonna dye her jet black hair fire engine red and of course, I will need a stylist to keep my lovely blonde locks touchably soft and not turning that horrible wirey white. It will also have to have an on-site podiatrist, because Tess and I also swear we're never giving up our 3 and 4-inch heels and I could see our feet turning all kinds of ugly by the time we're 80 if we keep that up.

The two of us will set those activity therapists back on their out of touch ears as we organize games of Bed Pan Beer Pong, Wheelchair Races, and Walker Gymnastics. Cocktail hour will begin promptly at 1:00 p.m. Also at 3:00, 5:00, 7:00, and 9:00 p.m. Not to mention morning mimosas at 11:00 a.m. when we get up. And none of that going to bed at 7:00 p.m. stuff, either! That's when we'll be getting dressed for the nightly dance parties in the activity room, so they should just start hanging that disco ball right now!

And they better not pass off those goober banjo players from Buffalo Bill's Pickin' Parlor as entertainment either, We want quality stuff on a weekly basis. The Chippendale's all male dance revue would be great! And forget that knitting circle! We never learned to knit and we're too freakin' old to start now! We want pole dancing or belly dancing lessons. And seminars on Sex After Seventy.

Yes, we'll be the ring leaders of all the fun, frolic and gaiety at the home. And speaking of the fun and frolic aspect, it better not be one of those nursing homes where the women outnumber the men by 4:1 or that administration better get crackin' on importing some cuties for our amusement. We only want hottie doctors, too. That Dr. McDreamy guy on t.v. would be good. After the last cocktail hour of the night, we'll be hanging that "Do not Disturb" sign on our door, so you stupid nurses better not be trotting in with our meds or to check our blood pressure or you might be seeing things you wish you'd never saw! The next morning, make sure Tess and I are side by side hooked up to those IV bags to help us get over our hangovers.

When the end is near for me and Tess, as we know it surely will despite our L'Oreal Thermogenesis Anti-Aging cream, they'd better make sure our hair is colored, no white roots, and we're all made up (Ravishing Red for Tess and Coral Cutie for me). We want our beds lined up side by side, so we can hold hands as we enter the great hereafter. And Tess will turn to me and say, "I remember you...you remind me of my friend...my friend...my friend...now what the hell was her name...? Anyway, we sure had some good times............"