A Choad By Any Other Name Means We’re in 2010

When you have children it’s normal to set up playdates. However, those playdates often mean that there is an understood playdate between parents. Parents who may or may not have anything in common except for the love of beer, which both sets of parents pretend not to have because they aren’t aware that the other set has a small emergency beer cooler stashed in the trunk.

When you are childless a similar thing happens. It’s when a girlfriend wants to spend time with her friend and they both expect the men to “hang out” because men naturally and easily make friends, right, but really it’s only that the prospect of getting laid is persuasive enough to make any guy best buds with their girlfriend’s bestfriend’s schmoe–I mean beau. Side note, men, if you haven’t figured it out, the guy on the other side of your “man date” also has an emergency beer cooler stuffed in his trunk too, and us gals are more than happy to pretend we don’t know why you guys have taken 20 minutes to get a sweatshirt from the car.

Recently, we participated in a playdate between our sons and their friend and his dad. We were at the park and as the kids played Frisbee, us parents chatted each other up. The friend’s dad was the talkative sort and I’ve learned that sometimes it’s best to let people talk, especially if you have a short attention span like me, and so I took out a notepad and started to work on a project and I tuned out until I heard the most awesome thing I’ve heard since 1988. The guy talked about something, I don’t know, all I heard was “for some choad … blah, blah, blah” and then other stuff.

I put my notebook aside and interrupted “Did you just say choad?” I asked.

He looked a little self-conscious but nodded and said, “Yeah, choad.”

I started laughing. Hard. “Oh my God, I haven’t heard that in years.” Plus it’s just a funny word.

Then Ron started laughing and I could tell that the guy was uncomfortable but he kept on with his story. And I felt bad, but that’s the kind of thing that happens when you Hot-Tub-Time-Machine it to several decades ago and bring back phrases to use in the modern world. Except that doesn’t happen to me, I never stopped using “Awesome” as a multi-function descriptor and look it’s caught on again.

Eventually I had to pretend to walk to the trash can when in actuality if I continued to sit there and hold in my laughter I would’ve swallowed my tongue

Internet, I’m telling you now. If this situation happens during a playdate bust open the emergency cooler and everything will be just fine.