How Bev Began

I’ve been absent. Blend up some technical difficulties on my post from last Friday (which was then never published), with unexpected (non-drinking induced) vomitus in the middle of the night on Sunday, with an insane amount of errands/tasks completed this week before heading out of town this weekend, and I just really haven’t had the time guys.

I mean, I know you’re thinking, “Oh, Bev, you’re sooooo busy.” But listen, have you ever left work at 3:20, picked up a half dozen boob cupcakes, made it to your personal trainer for a 30-minute session by 4:15, gotten your nails done, made two appetizers, and then arrived at a 7:00 pm BBQ five minutes early before? Yeah. Shove it. And that doesn’t even take into account the perfectly-timed Old Navy and Target returns before and after babysitting on Tuesday night, or the grocery run during my lunch hour on Wednesday. Bev works well under presh, y’all. Works well under presh. Doesn’t blog well under presh. Anyway, let’s get on with it.

I’m here. I’m just straight crushing life, as you can see read above (#BoobCupcakes), and I have a little story for you, my only favorite fan base!

I am heading out tomorrow on a wonderful road trip. It’s one of those trips I’ve been waiting for for months, and it’s finally (almost) here! This isn’t just any road trip, guys. It’s a small-town bar crawl road trip. It’s a be alone in the car for five hours road trip. It’s a get yourself that fatty latte, Bevvy road trip. It’s a(n) I’ve recently discovered the treasure of audiobooks roadtrip. It was supposed to be a take Friday off, get up at your leisure, hit the gym, shower, and get on the road on your own time road trip. (that plan has been slightly altered by the unexpected vomitus [see above] and the Monday sick day, but leaving the office early will suffice).

But more than that? It’s a Karen May road trip.

Huh? 

Yeah. You all haven’t been introduced to Karen yet, but let me tell ya. She’s a real doozy. You see, without Karen, there is no Bev. Hear me out!

As many (all) of you know, Beverly Goldenstein is not my real name. I write here under an alias in order to protect my identity and be able to keep my shitty day job. And Beverly Goldenstein is not something I take lightly (this should be obvious), and certainly not something I just came up with one drunken night in a gay bar in Middle America. OK, that last part isn’t true. I totally came up with Beverly Goldenstein one drunken night in a gay bar in Middle America. Well, actually, Karen did. And here goes the story of the very origin of this here Bevvy G:

It was a drunken night in a gay bar in Middle America (one of many). I was sitting at the bar with my good friend. My crony was sucking down the cranberry vodkas, while I was most likely enjoying ‘Beer Bust’ where you pay eleven dollars, get a stamp on the inside of your wrist, and drink as much beer as you want until bar close. Beer Bust is something I hope you all get to experience at some point in your lives, but that’s neither here nor there. The two of us are just sitting there, shooting the shit as you do with your close friends, when we saw a pair of abandoned sunglasses on the bar. We were immediately attracted to said sunglasses, and not because they were the latest pair of Chanels. Quite opposite. They were the biggest, but best, ugliest, most amazing sunglasses we’d ever seen, and of course, I immediately put them on. We couldn’t stop laughing, and decided to give ourselves names for whenever either of us were wearing the glasses. Aliases, guys. Alter egos. Evil twins? My friend immediately came up with Beverly Goldenstein for me before I quickly deemed her Karen May. I obviously pocketed the sunglasses, and would bring them out every now and again so that my friend and I could immediately transform into Bev and Karen. There are many things you need to know about Karen, but my favorite thing is that whenever Karen morphs into Karen, she always introduces herself as, “Karen. Karen May.” And let me tell ya what, when Beverly Goldenstein is GodKnowsHowManyPitchersDeep in Beer Bust, that shit is funny. Really funny.

So there it is. The reason for the season. Where it all began. The roots. 

It’s been at least five years since I’ve seen Karen, and we couldn’t be more excited to be staying at a Days Inn in a town of 20,000. I have boob cupcakes for Karen for her 50th birthday. I have another hotel happy hour ready to be set up. I have my robe packed. Our hotel has a hot tub. There’s a restaurant in town with the word “chickenette” in its name. It’s gonna be good, guys.

But mostly, I’m just excited to see Karen. Karen May.

-Beverly Goldenstein