company work party. theme: casino night. location: tasty brewpub.
a man and wife. condition: happy and sober.
wife: knows her limits, eats the company-provided dinner before consuming several pints, is feeling relaxed, chummy.
man: is blitzed and has already increased likelihood of chauvinistic-based lawsuit before introduction of appetizers (“coworkers’ wives vs smack-talkin’ sex-maniac”). skips food, strictly liquid diet. location: follow trail of poker chips dropped sporadically across casino floor. condition: swaying and humming to music ain’t nobody can hear. forecast: natural disaster of mass proportions.
man, very courageous, has light bulb: time to take party out of enclosed party room to public dining area downstairs. double light bulb: night perceived as young + plenty money left = drink more beers. bonus light bulb: must fulfill immediate urge (triggered by live music) to drunk-dance despite presence of many strangers.
wife: pretty sure bad idea but too late, man awkwardly holding wife tightly. location: upper left arm. condition: swinging, spinning, shaking. lots of shaking.
man: unknowingly uses wife to wipe out half of dance floor. dancers flying left and right. new form of dance-fighting invented but debut not well-received. man slurring, “yeah, you godda hang uvvit, dat’s right”.
wife: “godda hang-a-whaahhhh???”. feel weird and definitely not feel like dancing. people watching probably thinking same thing.
finally make it home. so happy made it home. mmm, bed. fluffy fresh and clean. look so comfy. like bunnies n clouds.
wife: crawl in bed go seepy-time.
man: bed? attack! pillows? blankies? attack! attack!
translation: BARF! BARF! BARRRRRRRRFFFFFF!!!!!
wife: sigh. change bed. clean all barf. change clothes. blech. sleep in other room.
man: not even bother wake up. just BARF! BARRRRF! BARRRRRRRRRRFFFFF!
wife: blech! change bed! clean all barf! change clothes! sleep in other room!
man: argh! still BARFING?! why so much barfing?! for gods’ sakes man wrap it up already!
wife: BLECH! CHANGE! CLEAN! CHANGE! SLEEP!
man: “want! blanket!”
wife: “newsflash! pukestorm! everything perish! all gone! only one sleeping bag, mine! no sharing!”
man: “you make man sad. juss want sleep bed.”
wife: “cannot sleep bed. you, human puke fountain. bed, giant puke-sponge. need burn bed. all febreze on earth not fix!”
man: “but me cold bwahhhhh me turning into grown man-baby! me crying waaahhhh!”
wife: “you cold because you not wearing clothes! this not rocket science! this ridiculous!”
man: “me no wann wear clothes! me wann blankie! why you not let me have blankies? you so MEAN! what, you a blankie police now?”
wife: “juss TAKE me SLEEPING BAG! TAKE! now for love of GAWD, SLEEP! or me punch you in stoopid puking fountain face!”
repeat cycle throughout night, til, finally, man snoring in 2.5 seconds flat.
wife awake til sunrise. not good mood.
man wake up complaining. “my neck. my back. my neck and my back!”
wife don’t care. ignoring.
man keep talking. digging deep hole. digging. diiigginnnng. still more digging. man not remember ANYTHING. unbelievable.
wife: too tired to kick ass. saving energy to plot revenge in form of blog entry.
dear _________ (name of person/s not in the room),
why do you insist on making my life
a living _________ (name of a place, full of burning)?
when i say i __________ (plucking) hate dealing
with your __________ (poop), it does not mean
‘please continue to torture me with your evil shenanigans’.
when i say ‘get your ________ (poop) together’
it does not mean ‘cry like a _________ (shmucking) baby
plus whine about all of the pretend problems you created”
and it also doesn’t mean
‘please use my face as your personal dung-bucket
during _______ (any or all major bank holidays)
for you to unload your drama-infested-freakout-baggage into’.
when you are clearly an insane person existing alongside those who are NOT,
there are a few things you will never know even as i explain them to you now–
1. a non-insane person will not believe anything you say.
because. you. are. clearly. INSANE!
2. a non-insane person is not going to sympathize or empathize!
there will be no thizing!
3. a non-insane person who appears to be listening is actually
fighting the urge to tear their own arm off to beat you with it
AND trying to scratch and claw their way into their happy place
while waiting for your psychotic ass to shutthefuckup!
why this addiction to drama when there are so many other more fun things
to be addicted to? like gambling. gateway drugs. gerbils.
i don’t give a _____ (flippin’ hockey puck rat’s ass)
what the _____ (hockey puck) it is! just ______ (FLIPPING!!!) DO it!
why am i even writing you a letter.
obviously this is for my benefit only and not yours.
because even if i DID send you this letter, you’d just tell yourself
that i accidentally sent it to you instead of my other friend with the same name
because i am addicted to gateway drugs and gambling gerbils.
that i am so silly because my face looks nothing like a dung-bucket.
which means that YOU will learn NOTHING
and I am RIGHT BACK WHERE I BEGAN.
her–whut wuth dat burd doin’?
her–it was in the road
me–was it movin?
her–no it wasn’t moobing it was fwat like maybe sumbunny car run it o-burr
me–then it was probably hurt by a car
me–yes maybe it is dead
her–how long is it dead for? forever?
her–well who run it o-burr
me–somebody probably ran it over accidentally with their car
her–but WHO mommy WHO run it o-burr
me–i don’t know, i wasn’t there when it happened
her–but MOMMY WHY YOU NOT KNOW
me–because i wasn’t (FREAKING) THERE!
her–but mommy, i think YOU ran it o-burr!
me–I DID NOT! WHAT ARE YOU FREAKING TALKING ABOUT
IT WAS DEAD BEFORE WE SAW IT IN THE ROAD!
her–but i think you DID it mommy because it dead
and we don’t know nobuddy else who did it
me–ARGH ARE WE REALLY HAVING THIS CONVERSATION
YOU BETTER NOT TELL PEOPLE YOUR MOMMY IS
RUNNING OVER BIRDIES BECAUSE I DIDN’T RUN IT OVER
YOU WOULD’VE HEARD ME RUN IT OVER
O MY GOODNESS YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY!
anyways, why i got sucked into that trap i don’t know.
so far i haven’t heard her spreading any rumors
so it will probably come out later on
when she is at show n tell in the 3rd grade. bah!
who ARE these people who think they can just walk all over you?
why are they such bullies?
when i used to work at an art studio, an ART S-T-U-D-I-O, i got bullied all the FREAKING TIME.
getting bullied all the freaking time wasn’t anything new, bullies have given me a hard time my whole life, but come ON, it was an ART STUDIO. you know there is something wrong if you get bullied in an art studio.
i was the floor manager so i had the pleasure of dealing with all sorts of weird situations. most of the time they were entertaining. and then a situation would come along that made absolutely no freaking sense whatsoever, so much so that i wouldn’t know what to do except become a deer in the headlights.
so the owner from the store next to the art studio opens the front door, keeps it open, stares me down across a crowded room of families who are sitting at tables quietly painting or standing in line to pay (i am at the register which is far away from the front door) and who are all now staring at her because she is just standing there with some sort of mysterious but urgent purpose.
i know who she is, she’s the witch next door who owns a children’s store and hair cutting biz, and i got customers up the yahoo so she is definitely last on my list of priorities. she “ahems” me from across the studio because her presence has not gotten the royal welcome she was trying to suck out of me and i barely look at her out of the corner of my eye and, get this, she literally says “it smells like dirty diapers in my store” with such an air of authori-TAY and as if it’s all my fault. at this point i have already gone well past my tolerance of her witchy brew and i’m not sure what company protocol is in this sort of situation so i just keep doing my job and click my heels three times to try to wish her away.
it doesn’t work. she continues. “it smells like dirty diapers in my store and it’s COMING FROM YOUR STUDIO.” and i’m like, woop dee doo lady, thanks for the tip, bye bye for now, nice catchin’ up with ya. of course, the customers are like, wtf is going on, is there going to be a gang fight soon, should we be hiding under the tables or should we just continue painting? they look at me as if i know what the fuck to do and i’m like, uh, hello, she is clearly a psycho, and psychos can’t be dealt with, everybody knows THAT, and, NO, i don’t know what to do. HOWEVER, if anyone has any suggestions just feel free to blurt them out at any time. anyone? anyone???
so the witch is still not getting the desired results and her posse (worker bees) have now assembled themselves by her side (like they do in music videos when they’re about to break it down) and they are advancing into the studio towards me while she continues on her weird rant about “stinky diaper smells coming from here” la la la la blah! her posse is all smarmy looking, hands on hips, some of them are filing their nails even, surly expressions all pointed in my direction, while their queen just babbles on and on about dirty diapers. god, people are so fucking weird.
i try to muster up any sort of maturity i might have hidden somewhere so as to appear professional even though this situation is clearly insane. and then i decide that i must throw myself into the fire and let the art studio customers continue their afternoon without having to see this strange and stupid spectacle. it doesn’t even make any goshdarned sense and it’s just uncomfortable when you are a guest somewhere and something weird happens and you’re trying not to react or stare but you don’t want to be rude and just ignore what is obviously going on. what i SHOULD’VE done is formally introduced her as “the witch next door, in case any of y’alls wanna get ur kids’ hairs cutted after y’alls done paintin’, uh hee hee.”
i go for the simplest solution and just start walking out the door of the studio and into the witches’ store next door, hoping they will follow me. sure enough they follow me without missing a beat. the queen is still flapping her hairy wrinkly yap and her posse is still hands on hips and surly. and then as if the whole situation wasn’t already weird enough, they form a circle around me–some are sitting on merchandise shelves, some are behind the counter, some are actually lying the fuck down on the floor, all the while there are CUSTOMERS in the store and some random kid is getting a haircut, and the person cutting his hair comes over to join the circle. hell, they even rang out a customer while all this was going on. i mean, seriously, a customer actually BOUGHT something in this environment (she gave me a questioning look but i was like, dude, why does everybody think i have the answers, i don’t even know my ass from my face at the moment).
what’s even WEIRDER is that i haven’t even said one fucking word yet. not a word. not even a dirty look. nothing. i guess i was just in shock and also waiting to see what they were going to do so that i could come up with a clever response. hopefully something involving kung fu fighting and plenty of judo chops. but they really didn’t have anything for me to respond to because it was all just nonsense. you can’t reply to nonsense with sense, everbuddy knowed dat!
so i’m just standing and turning ’round to kind of hear what they want to throw at me in case there IS by chance SOMETHING, ANYTHING, i can work with. but there ain’t. it starts with “the dirty diaper smell is coming from your studio” to “oh my GOD the dirty diaper smell is coming from YOU!”–i kid you not. NOT ONLY did they say THAT and then all AGREE, they all (get THIS) took turns leaning in to “SNIFF” me, and THEN said “oh my GOD the dirty diaper smell is coming from YOU” and then they thought it was so funnnnyyyyy, oh, so much laughing, so much, so much, can’t, breathe, so, funnyyyyy.
now, what kind of peoples do these sorts of things exactly? i wasn’t sure what was going on, it was probably one of the most surreal times of my life. and even up to THAT point i STILL hadn’t said ANYTHING, not a peep, not a dirty look, nuthin’.
but after the last dirty bird had “sniffed” me, and they had finally run out of stuff to say, AND they were done laughing, i was like, uh, wow it’s really quiet now, awkward, ok, i guess the party’s over bitches, good meetin’, let’s do this again sometime, peace out! and so, i walked my dirty diaper smelling ass out of the store (i had to step OVER the girl laying on the floor to get out of the circle first) in total silence, and went back to my studio, still unsure about what exactly had happened and why. when i told my coworkers what had happened, one of them said, “next time she comes in here complainin’ about the smell, tell her to check her upper lip!”.
i thought i was over all that, but then today, TODAY i got picked on AGAIN.
the afternoon was going as well as it could’ve been considering i have a cold and feel like poop.
we get home from school and everything’s fine and then i tell my kid to stop whatever he is doing so we can do homework first. well he doesn’t want to do it and he’s too tired and he’s whining and writing his letters all weird and acting stupid etc and i’m trying to keep him on task. i’m thinking, gee WHIZ, all ya gotta do is draw shapes, count circles, write the letter “m”, what the HECK, just hurry up already, you’re KILLIN’ ME!!! i’d do it myself but my handwriting is WAY nicer than yours!!!
he just gets worse and worse. then we are almost done and by then the other kid has chimed in with her 2 cents’ worth and then all of a sudden they are just talking down to me, and saying stupid things like “you always say no to everything”. and i ask, “to what exactly?” and they say, “to having candy and anything fun”. et-cetera, et-cetera, et-cetera.
the whole time they are bullying me i am calm and telling them dumb things like “i say no to candy because i care about your teeth” or “i want you to make the next letter nicer than that one” or whatever, managing both of them at the same time, and i didn’t raise my voice at all or “punish” them or threaten to take anything away.
and then one of them goes to the fridge and takes down the drawing of us that i love and rips it to shreds. uhhh, what?! as IF!
it reminded me of that art studio story. it was so petty and surreal when that happened and this time with my own kids i was like, are you FUCKING KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT O HELL NO. it was the same situation then as it was today–sometimes people mess with you because they’re trying to get some sort of reaction out of you–and if you don’t react, they just keep poking at you and poking at you til you hopefully explode.
i was just dragging my ass around, surviving and getting through the day, and then all of a sudden they decided to fucking pull some shit out of their asses and fling it all over me. what the FUCK. man, they seriously got me all riled up and then all these feelings from the art studio and–GAAAHH!
you want a reaction i’ll give you a reaction! JUDO CHOPS ALL AROUND!!!!
there comes a time in your life when you have to start admitting some things.
when you have to begin to accept stuff.
like accepting that you have no idea why your thumb is screwed up because you don’t remember injuring it.
or admitting that stairs are not your best friend.
or, for that matter, neither are your feet.
sometimes you have to accept that the universe is telling you something.
like, “i hate you!”, or, “die! earthling!”.
and then sometimes you feel like it’s saying, “what, you think i’m playing around? you think falling UP the stairs is all i got for you? oh no, no no NO my friend. YOU will fall up the stairs NOT ONE but TWO times, and then, THEN, you will fall DOWN the stairs and fall straight on yo’ ASS, mwah ah ah ah ahhhhh!”.
i still can’t believe i have been falling so much up and down the stairs, it is seriously pissing me the f*ck off. when i’m careful, i’m careful. but then i guess my mind likes to check out for a split second and boom i’m down without even a chance at some sort of reaction. is it because i black out and don’t realize i am f*cking myself til i’m kissing the stairs or is it because i’m falling so damn fast i CAN’T react or am i just in la-la land, i really can’t figure it out.
i’ve fallen with and without socks. i feel like such a f*cking idiot you don’t even know how much i was stressing out about it last night. plus i couldn’t sleep because my ass f*cking hurt as well as my back neck arms and legs. i am such a f*cking mess i don’t even know what the hell is going on with me. and my goddamn thumb hurts from god knows what and it isn’t even related to falling up or down the stairs.
don’t get me wrong, i AM a clutz sometimes, but not like this. it is seriously driving me up the freaking wall. whatever the f*ck is going on it f*cking sucks and i swear to god it feels like i’m slipping on air or the rug is being pulled from beneath me except that there is no rug. it happens so smoothly and it just f*cking sucks! holey hell muther of god what am i freaking doing i mean what is freaking WRONG with me that i can’t walk up and down stairs? i’m just a freaking idiot lately!!!!
goshdangitall! i know lots of “fallers”, but i am not one of them! when a “faller” decided to wear roller skates instead of a good ol’ trusty pair of shoes, and then go partying all night, who was there to pick them up and dig gravel bits out of their knees? i was. when we were at a concert and one of our friends was having trouble standing, who was there to tell another drunk friend to please hold the other drunk friend up so that security wouldn’t notice and kick us out of the club? uh, ME. when we used to party a lot, someone would have to police other people’s sh*t and organize a bunch of drunks to kindly rid the party of the drunk person who had the potential to hurt themselves or someone else. yes, that was also me, i policed other people’s sh*t. and who drank so much that they actually blacked out (or maybe fell asleep) standing up, in a room full of drunk dancing people, and stood propped up against a bookshelf for gawd knows how long? uh, yup, THAT was ME. i was propped up against the bookshelf all by myself and i did not fall.
you see??? I am NOT the FALLER. i am there for others if they happen to fall. sure, they may end up outside face down in the bushes for a few hours at some point during the night, but if you fall down a flight of stairs and roll straight into my tv set and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened, and then you’re not sure why you’re lying on the ground with a bike helmet halfway covering your face and your legs and feet are propped up over your head and lying against my tv (and you also scuffed my tv with your shoes and are wondering where those scuff marks came from because you’ve never noticed them before)–uh, HELLO, it’s time for you to go outside.
especially if i was in the middle of making homemade stove top mac n cheese for a house full of drunk and hungry football fans. anyone who knows me KNOWS that i get easily distracted, and if i get distracted while i’m cooking, well, food doesn’t turn out the way it’s supposed to. mashed potatoes, the kind that come in a box, even THOSE can turn out totally wrong if i am not completely focused on the task at hand. sometimes i end up inventing a new recipe, like “twice-washed soup”. or an apple pie that tastes not like apple, but LEMON rather. damn. i hate baking.
ANYWAYS! I. AM. NOT. A. FALLER!!! RAWRRRRRRR!!!!