Life · Uncategorized

Burgers ‘n’ Boobs (a Mr. and Ms. Mango tradition)

It’s not often Mr. Mango and I get more than a couple hours away from the children. Even rarer still is us having child free time with no big social plans (a wedding, birthday party, work related get-togethers etc). Our nearby extended family and friend circle is small and they themselves are young and busy so actually finding a sitter for more than ‘big deal’ celebrations or lately doctors appointments and recovery time more than once or twice a year doesn’t really happen.

This weekend is one of those rare occasions. The mother-in-law requested us drive the niblets out to her place yesterday evening and… get this…. not pick them up until Sunday night! That’s right, at this very moment I am sipping my coffee (that isn’t in a spill proof cup), sprawled on my living room couch, slowly waking up after lazily crawling out of be at my own leisure. That in itself made the packing, prepping and drive out there worth it.

Not that that’s all we expected from a just us weekend. We didn’t make big epic plans due to… well we’re a middle class, strapped for cash, single income family so there’s that, but mainly because this week has been an intensely difficult time for me physically and we simply didn’t know if I could do more than handle the drive there and back (even then, I was almost sure I wouldn’t be able to join). Our tentatively made plans were… “the usual.”

What is the usual? Good conversation, an epic burger and naked ladies. I don’t exactly know when this little tradition of ours started and goodness knows it’s not exactly most couples typical date night goal. The great thing is it’s simple, always different and well now most importantly it’s not extremely physically taxing (like a night out clubbing, mosh pits at local gigs or a night bowling, ice skating or the variety of other often done couples evenings).

We started by heading to our old stomping grounds in the big city. The epicenter of Winnipeg’s indie nightlife, you could say where all the freaks, weirdos and hippies gather for a giant culture mish-mosh. We spent a good 30 minutes slowly wandering around the Osborne strip wondering what the fuck happened to all our old favorite haunts over the last 10 years that we’ve really ‘grown up’ and haven’t been out. The idea of being right there and no live show within miles seemed absurd, phrases like ‘damn kids these days’ and ‘new music is crap’ were used and man did it make us feel old.

After a good while reminiscing about our pasts and complaining how things have changed, we sought out somewhere to get some eats. Our last couple burgers had been some real disappointments and I wasn’t willing to put myself through another heartbreak, my hopes were not high. Boy though they should have been.


The Classic Jekyll burger with a side of Jekyll chips and a Jekyll jar. Oh wowzers I could have died happy right then and there after slowly demolishing one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth. Mostly because no matter what I put down that shoot in an hour or two my intestines are pulling a Mr. Hyde act, but also because I finally satisfied the hamburger craving monster within. I can truly say it was worth the after effects of eating anything other than plain peeled and cooked potatoes or white bread.

After our meal we mosied on back to the car, I wasn’t up for much more moving around so we figured go somewhere where we can sit, relax and let someone else do the prancing around and being stared at. I mean it in the most respectful and understanding sort of ways. Walking around with bright almost neon colored hair (which is even more vibrant now that I renewed the tint and fixed my awful roots) even in a culture clash area like we were in, is asking for a lot of stares, comments and yea sometimes strange or rude gestures/noises. Add anxiety to the mix and sometimes it does feel like I’m waltzing about naked. I have total respect and admiration for any strong woman who is willing to bare all and aerobically entertain a mass of horny aled-up ‘gentlemen.’

I can say that Mr. Mango sure doesn’t mind that his not so straight-edged partner enjoys a little risque entertainment. We had a good time, laughing at some of the ass-hats that always seem to frequent those types of places, playing ‘real or fake’ and discussing my imaginary new set of jiggly giants. Not that it’s something that’s really in the cards in the future (why have elective surgery when you’re going through enough medical crapola as it is, even if it’s to rejuvenate what 3 kids and weight loss have taken away) it’s still something we talk about on occasion. That and other body modifications, like how lovely it would be to be covered in some really nice ink (another thing you can see a lot of at these places).

The drive home flew by while listening to the best hits of our teenage years and letting the muscle relaxers finally kick in for some relief. Possibly the best part of the evening (I know it’s hard to beat burgers ‘n’ boobs) was I actually got a few hours of sleep. UNBELIEVABLE!

I am happy to say that I really enjoyed our usual date night tradition. It’s not easy going out and having fun in the middle of a pretty severe flare of…. well everything but it’s so rewarding for us as a couple to spend some care free (more like care light) time enjoying being ‘young’ and fun without our little ones in tow.

Today’s plan? Who knows, other than a good deal of lazy doing nothing. Heck, I might even take a nap!


5 thoughts on “Burgers ‘n’ Boobs (a Mr. and Ms. Mango tradition)

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