I was getting some gifts for the holiday season and was walking up a storm around my neighborhood outdoor mall. One reason was because the parking lots are INSANE right now - the week of Christmas - and so whatever spot you can be lucky enough to find, well take my advice and never leave it! Also, I have recently lost some weight. And when you start to feel skinnier than your previous self, you want to keep that weight off! So I've been doing more cardio and more walking in general. For me, this means taking 10 flights of stairs instead of the elevator, and things like that. I have to remind myself I am lucky to be mobile and just ABLE to walk stairs and not go into cardiac arrest. So climb those stairs, stay on the elliptical for 5 more minutes, or do what you gotta do so we don't all end up with lard-asses and are addicted to the E! network...
So after shopping and walking around for about 2 hours, I start to walk back to my car to move on to my next errand. I was parked on the roof of the parking lot and decided to take the stairs.
On my way up the stairs with no one around, I see maybe a 20-21 year old white male. At first it frightened me a little bit, because when do people just hang around in parking lot garage stairwells? Never, I hope. But then, I noticed he had on a big black puffy coat and also had a hat on and black pants as well, and I thought to myself "oh he's a security guard" so I kept on walking. Then I take a closer look at his jacket and I see "Roca Wear" on his jacket, and realized that not only was he NOT security, but he was rolling a joint AND the fly was down on his saggin-ass jeans.
So I just think to myself: rolling a joint on the stairs? whatever
Mr. Marijuana: how's it goin?
Me: Uhh fine, have a nice day.
Mr. Marijuana: You know, i am legal. You don't need to worry.
Me: I'm not...trust me.
Mr. Marijuana: Sweet.
If you need to justify you smokin a doobie in a stairwell with "I am legal" than you are SO not legal. I'm all for people smoking pot and having the choice to do whatever they want, it's not my business. But if you're 20 years old, alone, smoking in a parking lot in the middle of December on a cold ass day...well I just feel sad you're not smoking with someone else.
To each his own. Just don't be a liar.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Letter to Michelle
I went to my sister's house for Thanksgiving this year, and she found a note I wrote to her in October of 1996. This is exact spelling, placement and grammar of the note. Enjoy.
(Sticker of heart here) (Sticker of heart here) (Sticker of heart here)
10/7/96
Dear Michelle,
I am really sorry I was saying tough to you in a weird way. I will only be weird to my friends not in front of you or mom. I hope you get this note sooner or later. I wrote the date right under the sticker so you will know when I wrote this note. I gave you stickers with hearts because I love you and I think you are the greatest sister anyone could ever have you are the neatest, the narliest, the most cool sister in the whole world. I wrote this because I'm sorry not because I don't want stickers anymore.
This for
(sticker of heart here)
is you!
Love Sarcastical Girl
XOOX
OXXO
Texts from Sam
Here is a sample of some texts I get from Sam. His grammar and spelling are questionable most of the time. He clearly does not edit before sending. Christ. I KNOW he went to college. Let's not text in psychobabble. But I digress. Here are a few I have gotten. Most of which I receive comes with no reference to them. Good lord.
OMG tjs now has horseradish lol
I guess this news makes him so happy he has to "lol"
You like
I have no idea what he's referring to.
I will do it pt
Again I have no clue. what?
Magic is man
Yes, I know Magic Johnson is male. Are you trying to say he IS the man?
?
Are you confused about something?
Ooo do tell
What am I telling you?
You have hot ass
Why thank you, caveman. You have hot ass. Go kill reindeer. Coming? Grrr. Sleep. Grrrrr
OMG tjs now has horseradish lol
I guess this news makes him so happy he has to "lol"
You like
I have no idea what he's referring to.
I will do it pt
Again I have no clue. what?
Magic is man
Yes, I know Magic Johnson is male. Are you trying to say he IS the man?
?
Are you confused about something?
Ooo do tell
What am I telling you?
You have hot ass
Why thank you, caveman. You have hot ass. Go kill reindeer. Coming? Grrr. Sleep. Grrrrr
Was that you?
So I am an avid listener to a radio podcast that is called: "Sarah and Vinnie's Secret Show Podcast." You can find it on iTunes, or google your little heart out and find it. There are several regulars on the podcast and they are hilarious. They have a good chemistry and witty banter that I love. "It's not for work, it's not for kids, but it is fun" is something they remind their listeners of. So don't listen if you're under 18!
Anywho, sex is a common topic on the show. Sarah and Vinnie were talking about how people need to loosen up about their sex life, and to remember that this is FUN. So switch it up, try new things, and don't get in a routine. Enjoy yourself! And yes, you can trip on your underwear while stripping, or it takes 10 minutes to open that condom wrapper - whatever. Just try to laugh when stupid things happen, and don't get embarrassed! And I have to agree. I am a straight 20 something chick and let me tell you... MEN: there is nothing worse than having no confidence and being insecure during sex. At least, it's not for me.
So me and my man, Sam, were at it one rainy afternoon. A nice rainy day activity I will have you know. :) I had just finished up listening to the podcast, and so hearing Vinnie say have fun and just laugh was fresh in my mind.
Let me divert for a moment. My back door is closed. Forever. There is no action going on back there. Go ahead, slap it or grab it I don't care. But that door is shut, end of story, caput. Now let's get back to the story.
I was on my hands and knees, and Sam was getting me from behind. And NOT in my behind, just FROM behind. We were both having a good time, and low and behold...mother nature loves to mess with me sometimes...I queefed. I know. Not entirely too sexy, I know. But I can't control it!
But I heard Vinnie's voice in my head saying "loosen up, and laugh it off" so I thought to myself: ok, no need to panic - whatever. So what? It wasn't that loud, and clearly Sam isn't climbing away in disgust. Get over it! Make a joke out of it! So I then say:
Me: Sam, was that you?
Sam: what? where?
In the meantime, Sam is looking around the room like we are in a mystery novel trying to find the lost treasure.
Sam: What? Did the doorbell ring?
Sam then starts slapping the alarm like there is a fly on top. I am DYING of laughter. The bastard didn't even realize what the hell had happened. Maybe men go deaf or have selective hearing during sex. Jesus, there was no need to worry.
At this point I have to tell him I need a time out, and I fall on my stomach on the bed and just go into hyena-type laughter. Wow. Who knew that a queef could be so funny?
I told this to a girlfriend of mine over lunch one day, and she insisted that I tell some of our other girlfriends over a Bachelorette Party weekend we were both attending. Now I know I am verbally open about my sex life, but some of the other girls I wasn't too sure about. Some of my ladies are more private, which I respect.
Well, come the bachelorette weekend, my friend reminded me it was time to 'fess up and tell the story. I got a little shy, but then was threatened with "you can't drink until you tell the story." No drinks? Screw that, I was there to party. So I then did a play-by-play with the positions on a lawn chair, poolside at our hotel. Go big or go home I guess.
Sam is much more private and modest about sex than I am (he's missing out) but I am pretty sure he would be HORRIFIED if he knew I was telling now the internet universe about my tales, specifically this one. (I'm not sorry, but that's OK).
Anywho, sex is a common topic on the show. Sarah and Vinnie were talking about how people need to loosen up about their sex life, and to remember that this is FUN. So switch it up, try new things, and don't get in a routine. Enjoy yourself! And yes, you can trip on your underwear while stripping, or it takes 10 minutes to open that condom wrapper - whatever. Just try to laugh when stupid things happen, and don't get embarrassed! And I have to agree. I am a straight 20 something chick and let me tell you... MEN: there is nothing worse than having no confidence and being insecure during sex. At least, it's not for me.
So me and my man, Sam, were at it one rainy afternoon. A nice rainy day activity I will have you know. :) I had just finished up listening to the podcast, and so hearing Vinnie say have fun and just laugh was fresh in my mind.
Let me divert for a moment. My back door is closed. Forever. There is no action going on back there. Go ahead, slap it or grab it I don't care. But that door is shut, end of story, caput. Now let's get back to the story.
I was on my hands and knees, and Sam was getting me from behind. And NOT in my behind, just FROM behind. We were both having a good time, and low and behold...mother nature loves to mess with me sometimes...I queefed. I know. Not entirely too sexy, I know. But I can't control it!
But I heard Vinnie's voice in my head saying "loosen up, and laugh it off" so I thought to myself: ok, no need to panic - whatever. So what? It wasn't that loud, and clearly Sam isn't climbing away in disgust. Get over it! Make a joke out of it! So I then say:
Me: Sam, was that you?
Sam: what? where?
In the meantime, Sam is looking around the room like we are in a mystery novel trying to find the lost treasure.
Sam: What? Did the doorbell ring?
Sam then starts slapping the alarm like there is a fly on top. I am DYING of laughter. The bastard didn't even realize what the hell had happened. Maybe men go deaf or have selective hearing during sex. Jesus, there was no need to worry.
At this point I have to tell him I need a time out, and I fall on my stomach on the bed and just go into hyena-type laughter. Wow. Who knew that a queef could be so funny?
I told this to a girlfriend of mine over lunch one day, and she insisted that I tell some of our other girlfriends over a Bachelorette Party weekend we were both attending. Now I know I am verbally open about my sex life, but some of the other girls I wasn't too sure about. Some of my ladies are more private, which I respect.
Well, come the bachelorette weekend, my friend reminded me it was time to 'fess up and tell the story. I got a little shy, but then was threatened with "you can't drink until you tell the story." No drinks? Screw that, I was there to party. So I then did a play-by-play with the positions on a lawn chair, poolside at our hotel. Go big or go home I guess.
Sam is much more private and modest about sex than I am (he's missing out) but I am pretty sure he would be HORRIFIED if he knew I was telling now the internet universe about my tales, specifically this one. (I'm not sorry, but that's OK).
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Hello Officer, I am not a streetwalker...
Something about me: I grew up taking dance classes . Tap, jazz, and ballet mostly. When I was a teenager, specifically 17 in this story, I was very serious about becoming a professional contemporary ballet dancer. So during the year I would go to my regular dance school, and come Winter and Spring it was time to audition for summer dance programs. Some were very selective and only took a number of students, so everyone was dressed in their finest tights and leotard for the auditions. In my case, I auditioned for programs nationally. And one summer, I ended up being accepted into a great program in San Francisco.
I grew up in the bay area, so San Francisco wasn't too far away. But when you don't have a licence and have parents will full time jobs with opposite schedules, it's hard to hitch a ride Monday through Saturday for this program.
When I found out a dance peer of mine was going to the same program that year, I asked my parents that if we shared a room together, would they allow us to room and board at a nearby university along with other students in the same program. Since my parents knew they wouldn't be roped into driving me anywhere, and also that they would be free of my shenanigans for 10 weeks, they agreed.
So before and after class, we would take a bus to either class or the dorms we were staying at. The dance program staff encouraged us to dress warmly and cover up especially after class. It was getting late, and also cold. If you have ever been to SF, you know that July and August are not known for their "summer weather." September-November, and March-May are the peaks of weather. July and August are very damp and foggy.
After class one day, my dance partner and I were sweaty and exhausted from the long hours of dancing, and decided to just not care too much about bundling up. So we were both wearing booty shorts over our leotards and tights, with our sweaters over one shoulder, and bag over the other.
What felt like .50 seconds, we hear sirens nearing us and we start covering our ears because it's getting so loud. We then turn around to see what the fuss was all about, and we see to male officers walking straight toward me and my friend Lindsay.
Officer 1: Let me see your ID!
Officer 2: NOW LADIES!
Me and Lindsay: what?!??!....
Officer 1: I'm not going to ask you again, I need your IDs!
Me: I don't have an ID!
(both my and Lindsay both have our hands in the air with our eyes like a deer in the headlights...)
noted: What I should have said, was that I don't have a licence, not an ID.
Officer 1: Put your hands on the vehicle, LEGS APART!
Officer 2 then starts giving us a pat down.
Officer 2: They have no drugs on them!
Me: I don't do drugs!
Lindsay: Me neither!
Officer 2: I WOULD ADVISE YOU TWO TO SHUT UP!
Officer 1: Why the f*** are you dressed like that? You know that hooking is illegal right????
Me: Officer, I am not a streetwalker!
Lindsay: Me neither! We just dance!
Me: Yeah, we dance! We do ballet, that's why we are wearing tights!
Officer 1: Why are you all sweaty?
Me: We just got out class, I swear!
Officer 2: Let's see them dance.
Me: urrrrdrrrdrrrdrrdrr what?
(I am probably pissing myself in my tights)
Officer 1: Let's see how talented you two are!
Lindsay: Sarcastical girl, just start dancing!
Me: OK!
We then both start doing who knows what probably flitting around like butterflies who look like they might have just done some coke. We were both shaking afraid of being arrested. My parents would probably never forgive me if they found out I was "hooking in SF with my friend." Of course, that's what the officer would tell them, and they would probably believe him and not me. Christ.
After what felt like an eternity, they both started clapping and I guessed believed that we were not 17 year old hookers. I would like to believe that they thought we were talented, but I'm not asking for anything but mercy at this point.
Officer 2: Where are you ladies heading?
Me: We were going to take the bus to our dorm.
Officer 2: I'll drive you both. Sit in the back.
Me: Ok.
I never again want to sit in the back of the cop car. Although fascinating, it was scary and smelled like week old urine in a men's public bathroom at a train station. I wanted to shower immediately.
Once we got back to our dorm, with just our luck, our dorm supervisor was standing outside (s**t) and looking at us like we are going to get a beating with her belt later.
Officer 2: Ma'm, don't worry. These two are not in trouble, I just gave them a ride home.
Dorm Supervisor: Well thank you officer, that was very thoughtful.
Officer 2: No worries. And you two! (referencing me and Lindsay) I never want to see you dressed like that again in the streets!
Lindsay and I bow our heads down and agree. That was the f****** worst idea ever and it was not to be repeated.
Me: I'm going to shower now.
Lindsay: Me too.
Both of us ran to the nearest shower stall. I can't speak for Lindsay, but I was there for about 30 mins scrubbing away the shame of looking like a hooker for the day. I was crying too, but probably of relief that I didn't have to go to Juvi or that mom and dad weren't gonna get a call from SFPD.
I grew up in the bay area, so San Francisco wasn't too far away. But when you don't have a licence and have parents will full time jobs with opposite schedules, it's hard to hitch a ride Monday through Saturday for this program.
When I found out a dance peer of mine was going to the same program that year, I asked my parents that if we shared a room together, would they allow us to room and board at a nearby university along with other students in the same program. Since my parents knew they wouldn't be roped into driving me anywhere, and also that they would be free of my shenanigans for 10 weeks, they agreed.
So before and after class, we would take a bus to either class or the dorms we were staying at. The dance program staff encouraged us to dress warmly and cover up especially after class. It was getting late, and also cold. If you have ever been to SF, you know that July and August are not known for their "summer weather." September-November, and March-May are the peaks of weather. July and August are very damp and foggy.
After class one day, my dance partner and I were sweaty and exhausted from the long hours of dancing, and decided to just not care too much about bundling up. So we were both wearing booty shorts over our leotards and tights, with our sweaters over one shoulder, and bag over the other.
What felt like .50 seconds, we hear sirens nearing us and we start covering our ears because it's getting so loud. We then turn around to see what the fuss was all about, and we see to male officers walking straight toward me and my friend Lindsay.
Officer 1: Let me see your ID!
Officer 2: NOW LADIES!
Me and Lindsay: what?!??!....
Officer 1: I'm not going to ask you again, I need your IDs!
Me: I don't have an ID!
(both my and Lindsay both have our hands in the air with our eyes like a deer in the headlights...)
noted: What I should have said, was that I don't have a licence, not an ID.
Officer 1: Put your hands on the vehicle, LEGS APART!
Officer 2 then starts giving us a pat down.
Officer 2: They have no drugs on them!
Me: I don't do drugs!
Lindsay: Me neither!
Officer 2: I WOULD ADVISE YOU TWO TO SHUT UP!
Officer 1: Why the f*** are you dressed like that? You know that hooking is illegal right????
Me: Officer, I am not a streetwalker!
Lindsay: Me neither! We just dance!
Me: Yeah, we dance! We do ballet, that's why we are wearing tights!
Officer 1: Why are you all sweaty?
Me: We just got out class, I swear!
Officer 2: Let's see them dance.
Me: urrrrdrrrdrrrdrrdrr what?
(I am probably pissing myself in my tights)
Officer 1: Let's see how talented you two are!
Lindsay: Sarcastical girl, just start dancing!
Me: OK!
We then both start doing who knows what probably flitting around like butterflies who look like they might have just done some coke. We were both shaking afraid of being arrested. My parents would probably never forgive me if they found out I was "hooking in SF with my friend." Of course, that's what the officer would tell them, and they would probably believe him and not me. Christ.
After what felt like an eternity, they both started clapping and I guessed believed that we were not 17 year old hookers. I would like to believe that they thought we were talented, but I'm not asking for anything but mercy at this point.
Officer 2: Where are you ladies heading?
Me: We were going to take the bus to our dorm.
Officer 2: I'll drive you both. Sit in the back.
Me: Ok.
I never again want to sit in the back of the cop car. Although fascinating, it was scary and smelled like week old urine in a men's public bathroom at a train station. I wanted to shower immediately.
Once we got back to our dorm, with just our luck, our dorm supervisor was standing outside (s**t) and looking at us like we are going to get a beating with her belt later.
Officer 2: Ma'm, don't worry. These two are not in trouble, I just gave them a ride home.
Dorm Supervisor: Well thank you officer, that was very thoughtful.
Officer 2: No worries. And you two! (referencing me and Lindsay) I never want to see you dressed like that again in the streets!
Lindsay and I bow our heads down and agree. That was the f****** worst idea ever and it was not to be repeated.
Me: I'm going to shower now.
Lindsay: Me too.
Both of us ran to the nearest shower stall. I can't speak for Lindsay, but I was there for about 30 mins scrubbing away the shame of looking like a hooker for the day. I was crying too, but probably of relief that I didn't have to go to Juvi or that mom and dad weren't gonna get a call from SFPD.
Best Butt
Some people have a word that can sum up every characteristic of who they are. "Idiot" "skank" and "lazy" are some examples. I have been trying to think of what my word would be. I'm not genius. I haven't figured it out yet. But I do know that if my blog ever became noticed beyond the few people who read this, I would turn my favorite blogs into a book, and the book would be entitled "Classic.". So don't steal my idea a*****e, that's intellectual theft and it was my idea first. Classic sums up the emotions of how I feel after pondering the crazy moments in my life. Good or bad, it's still me and something I will always remember.
So moving on.
My sister, Michelle, and I decided to tell each other what we want for Christmas/Kwanza/Festivus this year. She wrote an email saying she wanted a book about Frida Kahlo and I wrote back saying I wanted a Best Buy gift card (or so I thought) so I can buy myself a functioning computer. I have a piece of crap grandma status HP "special edition" that takes 10 minutes to turn on.
Here is what was actually sent to each other via email:
Hey Michelle,
That's great, looks like a good book. I don't know if you have something in mind for me, but if you haven't got me anything yet I have an idea. I am in major need of a new computer and I'm planning on getting it from best but. So I'm totally happy with getting a best but gift card - I'm definitely going to use it!!
Michelle's reply:
One Best Butt gift card coming right up!!
Bloody hell. D*** it. Auto corrector or auto fill whatever the bloody hell that is sucks. Thank god this didn't happen in an email to my boss or a client.
My reply back:
Oh Jesus. I love best butt. They have all I need. Old panties that are huge with stains on them. Electronic loofas that can scrub my butt all day.
I can't wait for xmas!
Love, Sarcastical girl
Jesus H Christ.
So moving on.
My sister, Michelle, and I decided to tell each other what we want for Christmas/Kwanza/Festivus this year. She wrote an email saying she wanted a book about Frida Kahlo and I wrote back saying I wanted a Best Buy gift card (or so I thought) so I can buy myself a functioning computer. I have a piece of crap grandma status HP "special edition" that takes 10 minutes to turn on.
Here is what was actually sent to each other via email:
Hey Michelle,
That's great, looks like a good book. I don't know if you have something in mind for me, but if you haven't got me anything yet I have an idea. I am in major need of a new computer and I'm planning on getting it from best but. So I'm totally happy with getting a best but gift card - I'm definitely going to use it!!
Michelle's reply:
One Best Butt gift card coming right up!!
Bloody hell. D*** it. Auto corrector or auto fill whatever the bloody hell that is sucks. Thank god this didn't happen in an email to my boss or a client.
My reply back:
Oh Jesus. I love best butt. They have all I need. Old panties that are huge with stains on them. Electronic loofas that can scrub my butt all day.
I can't wait for xmas!
Love, Sarcastical girl
Jesus H Christ.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
iiiiii will make you shut up
Setting. 1994. 3:30pm - right after school got out. Rainy day outside, probably mid-January. Front playground of my elementary school. Monkey bars. Tetherball. Hopscotch. You name it, we had it. I am in second grade, my sister (Michelle) is in sixth.
Michelle had a boy in her class who loved to make fun of her. Sometimes Michelle would come home crying feeling bad about what he said. But honestly when you're in sixth grade and around 11 years old - puberty is right around the corner and I am sure the hormones are buzzing anyways, so crying at home about a bully is small potatoes. But I remember thinking, if there was anything I could do to make her feel better, I would. He was an ass who needed to learn a lesson. I could conquer the bad guy and in-so-fac-to become a hero all in one. It was a win win situation in my eyes. aaaaannnnnnnnd I would probably own bonus points with the parents for sticking up for my big sister. no problemo! I thought.
Remember the playground setting? Well, Michelle is climbing some jungle gym action with a friend of hers, and I hear mr.-6th-grade-dumb-ass start to pipe up. PERFECT I thought. I'll wait til he says something incredibly wrong, and at just the right moment I will take him down. easy! He starts calling her "brace-face" and "ugly" and then he looked like he was about to hit Michelle. That was the last straw.
me: hey! you leave her alone!
dumb-ass: who do you think you are?
me: you worst nightmare. now leave her alone!
dumb-ass: make me!
(meanwhile Michelle is in fetal position on the jungle gym)
me: you got it!
Thank god it's a rainy day! I thought. I swooped up my umbrella from the ground and held it over my head like it was a friggin katana and I was going to chop his head off. I immediately started screaming like a banshee and started running towards him.
I don't think he ran because I was mean or because I could take him down. He probably had a foot of height over me, and could crush me if he wanted. But if someone is crying like a banshee, running after you with a umbrella over your head like it's the sword of Gryffindor and that they might in fact kill you, you might be running for your life, too.
So Dumb-Ass leaped away from Michelle onto the pavement. Good, I thought, now that we are both on the ground, I got him.
After chasing Dumb-Ass in circles in the playground, he finally made a straight shot towards the principal's office. Crap, now I am the one who will get in trouble. The principal will see me, and of course he will take his side since he has no weapon. Dang it!
I was too invested in this to back off now, and Dumb-Ass had to learn his lesson not to mess with MY SISTER.
Umbrella still in hand, over my head and still screaming like a banshee with Dumb-ass ahead of me by three paces, we run past the principal's office and low and behold, the principal was standing right outside. crap!...... oh well........
I think my principal was probably too stunned to acknowledge what was going on, or to punish me. So he just turned his head, and didn't do a thing. THANK YOU MR. PRINCIPAL.
Dumb-ass kind of tripped while running, and within that moment I got to edge closer to him. At this point, we are in the other playground behind the school, and he's heading towards the boy's bathroom.
me: You better not go in there!
dumb-ass: shut up!
me: I'll stick this umbrella up your BUTT to make YOU shut up!
He looked back in terror. My umbrella was ready to strike his stupid head, and he dove hands first into the boy's bathroom and locked the door. dang it!
me: You better stay in there and leave Michelle alone! Next time I will beat down the door!
(silence for the next 3 minutes. No movement from Dumb-Ass, just silence).
me: I don't care, stay in there forEVER!
(silence).
Michelle then comes up next to me, shakes her head, and says thanks. She also reminds me to put my umbrella down so Mom won't know what happened. As we walk out to the parking lot, our mom is waiting for us.
Mom: how was your day?
(Michelle looks over at me, and she gives me a glare...)
me: great! how was yours?
I look out the window and see the principal just looking wonderstruck at me through the back passenger seat window. Thanks again, for not giving me detention Mr. Principal.
Monday, December 5, 2011
(not my mom's) Toyota Camry
I grew up in a small town, where you went to school with the same people all the way from K-12. And also, it's the type of town and the type of people where if you make an epic ass of yourself it will never be forgotten. Now it's all fun and games until the joke is on you. This is a more innocent story, but trust me there are worse. And I will probably write them later on when I have some more followers. So if you are reading this, please follow my blog. The more followers, the better the stories.
This story is a gem of a story circa 1998 in elementary school. I had a friend in school, let's call him Tom. Tom was one of the few black kids in school, and sat next to me in class and we would crack jokes quietly about friends we didn't like and wish they would fall and trip. Schaudenfraude anyone? This was a friendship I didn't want to lose. Not every 11 year old has this sense of humor.
After school got out I usually waited on the front lawn outside the principal's office waiting for my mom to pick me up. She has an old red sedan Toyota Camry with a UNC sticker on the back. Mind you, no one in my family went to UNC.
Tom and I were waiting outside on the lawn as usual, and I saw my mom's car pull up. I said bye to Tom and gave him some version of a high five - I don't remember. What I do remember is that Tom made a very confused face as I started walking away. I thought "what's his problem?" as I opened the back door and sat down.
I buckled the seat belt, put my backpack down, and started chit chatting about my day. When I look up to the drivers seat, it is Tom's 250lb. mother who is giving me the look of "who the f*** do you think you are, and get the f*** out of my car." All she did was stare and give me the stink eye.
I immediately unbuckled my seat belt, grabbed my backpack and leaped out of the car. Tom not only was laughing hysterically, but he was on the ground holding his stomach along with some of my other classmates.
I then look ahead hoping for an escape, and I see my REAL ride home. I run to my mom's car and jump in.
Mom: Why did you get in Tom's car?
Me: CAN WE DRIVE NOW?
Mom: What were you doing? Did you need to talk to Tom's mom?
(in the meantime, kids are running towards my mom's car with their hands pointing at me and almost dying of laughter)
Me: I WANT TO GO HOOOOOME NOWWWWW!
Mom: Jesus H Christ, (sarcastical girl), alright. We're going, we're going. I saw the whole thing from my rear view mirror, man you should have seen your face. You were so embarrassed!
The next day rolls around and Tom is waiting outside for me giving me the evil smile. I start walking towards him and he said his mom never wants me getting in her car again. I agreed that it would be best. Tom and I remained close after that, but he knew he had one over me. I wished for about a month something equally as embarrassing would happen to him, but it never happened.
Why aren't there empty ditches around at these points in your life to jump in where you know nobody will find you? Those would be handy.
This story is a gem of a story circa 1998 in elementary school. I had a friend in school, let's call him Tom. Tom was one of the few black kids in school, and sat next to me in class and we would crack jokes quietly about friends we didn't like and wish they would fall and trip. Schaudenfraude anyone? This was a friendship I didn't want to lose. Not every 11 year old has this sense of humor.
After school got out I usually waited on the front lawn outside the principal's office waiting for my mom to pick me up. She has an old red sedan Toyota Camry with a UNC sticker on the back. Mind you, no one in my family went to UNC.
Tom and I were waiting outside on the lawn as usual, and I saw my mom's car pull up. I said bye to Tom and gave him some version of a high five - I don't remember. What I do remember is that Tom made a very confused face as I started walking away. I thought "what's his problem?" as I opened the back door and sat down.
I buckled the seat belt, put my backpack down, and started chit chatting about my day. When I look up to the drivers seat, it is Tom's 250lb. mother who is giving me the look of "who the f*** do you think you are, and get the f*** out of my car." All she did was stare and give me the stink eye.
I immediately unbuckled my seat belt, grabbed my backpack and leaped out of the car. Tom not only was laughing hysterically, but he was on the ground holding his stomach along with some of my other classmates.
I then look ahead hoping for an escape, and I see my REAL ride home. I run to my mom's car and jump in.
Mom: Why did you get in Tom's car?
Me: CAN WE DRIVE NOW?
Mom: What were you doing? Did you need to talk to Tom's mom?
(in the meantime, kids are running towards my mom's car with their hands pointing at me and almost dying of laughter)
Me: I WANT TO GO HOOOOOME NOWWWWW!
Mom: Jesus H Christ, (sarcastical girl), alright. We're going, we're going. I saw the whole thing from my rear view mirror, man you should have seen your face. You were so embarrassed!
The next day rolls around and Tom is waiting outside for me giving me the evil smile. I start walking towards him and he said his mom never wants me getting in her car again. I agreed that it would be best. Tom and I remained close after that, but he knew he had one over me. I wished for about a month something equally as embarrassing would happen to him, but it never happened.
Why aren't there empty ditches around at these points in your life to jump in where you know nobody will find you? Those would be handy.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
XXXmas
In my first year of college living in the dorms, there was a comedy troupe on campus that consisted of both undergrad and grad students who were honestly AMAZING at Improv. I still wish I could see them every Friday night like I used to back in the day.
For the Improv team's last Friday night show before Xmas, they decided to make the theme of their show XXXmas. So everyone had the chance to slut it up or dress up like elves with only panties on, or what not.
So my boyfriend at the time, let's call him Karl, for whatever reason had access to a santa outfit. Don't ask me how. So I then rallied my roommate and a friend to let's us be Santa's three hoes - "ho ho ho." So basically we dressed in skirts, fishnets, red tube tops and santa hats in the midst of winter during this comedy show. It was a big hit.
But this got me thinking. When is the last time I got dressed up in a legitimate sexy outfit since then? Does undressing to a matching black bra and underwear count for my man? Ugh... definitely not.
My current man, let's call him Sam, has some fantasy of me in a nurse outfit or maybe me in a durndl with beer stein in hand. Buuuut that's just not my style. But bustiers, fishnets, garters, top hats, and a riding crop are!
So I told Sam that we are getting each other XXXmas gifts this year. Since Sam clearly wants me to slut it up more often, this should not be hard shopping for sexy clothes on a budget. I WISH Agent Provacateur was more affordable, because if so that would be my first pick.
Sam was really in to the idea - I think he in fact said "I dig it" via text. So come Christmas, you never know, I may get "d*** in a box" or maybe some leather chaps. Sam is a little more modest and reserved than I am, so I am VERY interested in what he ends up getting me.
For the Improv team's last Friday night show before Xmas, they decided to make the theme of their show XXXmas. So everyone had the chance to slut it up or dress up like elves with only panties on, or what not.
So my boyfriend at the time, let's call him Karl, for whatever reason had access to a santa outfit. Don't ask me how. So I then rallied my roommate and a friend to let's us be Santa's three hoes - "ho ho ho." So basically we dressed in skirts, fishnets, red tube tops and santa hats in the midst of winter during this comedy show. It was a big hit.
But this got me thinking. When is the last time I got dressed up in a legitimate sexy outfit since then? Does undressing to a matching black bra and underwear count for my man? Ugh... definitely not.
My current man, let's call him Sam, has some fantasy of me in a nurse outfit or maybe me in a durndl with beer stein in hand. Buuuut that's just not my style. But bustiers, fishnets, garters, top hats, and a riding crop are!
So I told Sam that we are getting each other XXXmas gifts this year. Since Sam clearly wants me to slut it up more often, this should not be hard shopping for sexy clothes on a budget. I WISH Agent Provacateur was more affordable, because if so that would be my first pick.
Sam was really in to the idea - I think he in fact said "I dig it" via text. So come Christmas, you never know, I may get "d*** in a box" or maybe some leather chaps. Sam is a little more modest and reserved than I am, so I am VERY interested in what he ends up getting me.
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