THE SEARCH FOR MR. ADEQUATE
Part 75

By Susan Silver

I just returned from my weekend in Minneapolis with the Precious Boys, now almost 6 and 3. I have taken to my bed to recover.

Now don’t get me wrong ... I love and adore Ben Joseph (pronounced Jophus) and Nate, and look forward to seeing them more than any other vacation I’ll ever take. But when they were babies, you could hold them on your lap, coo and talk baby talk, and give an occasional pony ride up and down on the knees.

But now…how’s basketball, baseball, soccer, hoola hoops, racing down the hall to catch the ball … and that’s with my participation, not just watching.

Three days, three hours a day. I am exhausted!

However, I have stored up enough hugs and kisses to last at least a few months. So it was worth it. They are more gorgeous than ever. And to hear the little guy go around repeating every single word his big brother says is hysterical. A tiny echo 24/7. (Although it’s probably not so cute for big brother Ben … though he never complains.)

Fly me to the moon

The flight, however, was really a pain in the you know what. I saw, of course, on TV how inconvenient traveling had become, sans liquids. But until you do it, you really don’t get the full impact.

Maybe it’s just psychological, but because you can’t carry a bottle of water on to the plane, I drank a giant soda, which I never do, before. I then had to go to the john while we were taking off and was not allowed to. So pace yourself liquid wise. Too much information, I know, I know.

For a weekend trip I never check in a bag, always just take carry-on which suffices. But not now. Vain thing that I am, I needed my perfume, my makeup, my deodorant etc. etc. etc. as Yul Bryner would sing. So I had to pack a small suitcase and send it through. Mistake!!

The luggage guys, who are barely less than adequate to begin with, are totally overwhelmed so you have to wait even longer than usual for the bags to come out. At least on Northwest. People were not happy and I, of course, not one to just wait quietly, finally went into the baggage claim office to ask what was going on.

The first “guard” simply pointed me to a sign that said “due to the increase of baggage, please be patient.” Wrong person. That is, wrong person to ask, he being of the ‘it’s not my job variety’ and wrong person tell to be patient.

I went to the second guy behind the counter who was really nice and called up behind the baggage area to find out…” due to the increase of baggage, they were overwhelmed …” be patient.

Forty minutes later my little bag came rolling out.

So Dear Readers, here’s my hint to you … buy new makeup and toiletries wherever you are going, it’s easier!

We get letters  

Actually, I get emails. And I am really grateful for them. I love hearing from the Dear Readers. It’s interesting to me to see which columns get the most response. And so far, it’s the ones where I have a blind item and tell you to email if you want me to I.D. the perps.

But also, after last week, when I reported the conversation my poor girlfriend had with the guy she was about to go to bed with … the line about were her boobs ever higher … well, that provoked emails and even phone calls!

One of the Dear Readers had a great idea. She said to have a contest in which you can submit the WORST THING EVER SAID TO YOU BY A GUY DURING, BEFORE, OR AFTER SEX! And I love that idea. Though I will expand it a bit.

So here are the rules: Please send me anything said to you … or if you are dumb enough … things YOU said to someone, which poked a hole in the balloon … so to speak. A reference to your body, your sex appeal, your breath, your wife. Anything that should have remained unsaid. You can go back in time as far as you want … since it obviously remained in your psyche.

As for the prize, well this ain’t Oprah! There will be no cars, no jewels, nothing of value given except for the honor of winning … and oh yeah, the thrill of seeing the schmuck embarrassed when his words are plastered over the Internet which you will of course then email him to make sure he knows. You can use initials if you like, because I don’t want to get sued. Let’s give it two weeks, and then I’ll print the winner!

Now guys … and I know you are all wonderful, those of you who are Dear Readers. We’ll think of some contest for you too. I don’t want to be sexist in this.

To start it off, one of my young new friends told me that a guy she had been dating less than two weeks announced to her that he was “surprised he liked her, as she was really not his type. He liked skinnier girls.” She is no longer dating him. So let’s hear yours now …

P.S. One of the weirder news items that caught my eye was that Bin Laden is obsessed with Whitney Huston and at one point was planning to take out Bobby Brown. Write your own joke about delaying his capture, won’t you?

Respond to susan@newyorksocialdiary.com.