Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Embarrassment 101

Recently I was having a conversation with a friend of mine regarding embarrassing things we have done in our lifetime. While she seemed humiliated about some of her past experiences, I on the other hand, was hardly phased.  If you know me, you know how ridiculous of a person I can be so very little makes me turn red in the face. If you don't know me, there are many entries in my blog to prove to my point.

I've had numerous people ask me how I am not completely mortified by sharing some of the stories from my past, but I believe most embarrassing situations will prove to be humorous if enough time passes. If you are telling yourselves, "One day we will look back at this and laugh..." why not make that day today?

In order to help my shy readers, I thought I would share some scenarios (where one may want to crawl into a hole and die) to help you look on the bright side. This way the next time a horrifying situation presents itself, you will be  less embarrassed and more amused...

Let's say a hot guy at the checkout line sees you buying tampons...
Well at least he knows you aren't pregnant right?!

You accidentally texted a scandalous picture of yourself to your boss...
Hey, maybe now you'll get that raise you have been hoping for!

If you trip and happen to fall...
Pretend to break a limb so people will feel sorry for you and give you presents. If by chance you actually do end up injuring yourself, maybe at least the emergency room doctor will be hot.

You got hammered and preformed a one woman show on the dance floor...
Maybe your YouTube video will get 20 million hits, and you'll get to be on Tosh.0.

Next time you pronounce a word incorrectly and someone calls you out on it...
Simply point out to that asshole, that you were using the French enunciation, and they simply are not articulate enough to understand.

The next time you spit while talking...
immediately start beat boxing, and get everyone at the table to join in.

While visiting your significant other's parents, they hear you having sex...
Randomly moan while doing mundane tasks for the rest of your stay. This will convince them it wasn't you getting off that they heard last night because you make the same noises doing the dishes. 

If you ask an overweight woman, "When are you due?" but she hastily says she is not pregnant...
Give her a rude look and say, "Um, excuse me, I wasn't done speaking...When are you due for jury duty? I am going to get called in any day now I feel it."

And although this probably only happens to me and Kim Kardashian...

Next time you split your jeans...
just dance! (Too much booty in the pants.)

Thursday, August 22, 2013

I am an asshole.

When you write a mostly sarcastic, occasionally humorous blog, you have to expect to offend some people from time to time. Everything is hilarious until it may or may not pertain to you. It's like laughing at a Mexican joke, a Jewish joke, an Asian Joke, but then getting upset when someone pokes fun at your heritage. If you are going to read my blog, you need be an equal opportunity offender.

While I don't tell racist jokes, I have no problem making fun of you for wearing yoga pants all day when it's apparent your idea of yoga is stretching after a nap. I will definitely tease you for making out with that girl who may or may not have had a penis, but I would never tell everyone about the time you got diarrhea at Barnes and Noble. I have morals, geez.

If you know me in real life, you know I am silly, sarcastic, and outspoken. Some people may think I say whatever comes to my mind but au contraire. There are so many things I would like to say to people, but I'd rather not get punched so I think them instead.  Lucky for me, my blogs are my thoughts on paper.

Here are just a few things of the things I wish I could say to people without getting murdered...

"Just because it comes in your size, does not mean you need to wear it."

"You're a lot more interesting when you're I'm drunk. Keep telling me about your sinus infection while I mainline this fireball whiskey."

"Yes, your child is adorable. He's eating cake. Adorable. Oh look, he is sleeping. Adorable. Aww he's breathing, adorable. Would you like to see 75 pictures of  my cat now?  No?"

"Of course I want to check out your band "Skinny Jeans, Tattoos, and Beanies." I bet you guys sound way different than everyone else."

"You went to the gym today?  You burned 750 calories?  What do you know, that is exactly the amount I ate via Cheetos on my couch."

"Oh you're engaged!? Tell me every single detail of this thing you speak of called a "wedding" since no one has ever had one of those before."

"Woo hoo another DJ event invite to some random bar I am surprised is still in business. I will certainly be RSVPing to get there at 8 pm to avoid the $5 cover."

"Your current wardrobe is completely ironic and hip and doesn't at all make you look like a escaped mental patient."

"No I don't know "who you are," but judging by the seriousness of your voice, you must be really important. Tell me again who you know and where you work."

Friday, August 16, 2013

You are an asshole.

If you make me have a two hour text conversation rather than a three minute phone call, you are an asshole.

If you put on a full face of make up to go to the gym, it's time to re-evaluate your life because you are an asshole.

Also, if you have ever taken a picture on Instagram and put #nomakeup when we all know you really look like the crypt keeper without it, you are #anasshole.

If you brag about not owning a TV, but watch all your favorite shows via Netflix, you are totally an asshole.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

This is why I drink.

Christmas displays/items being put out in September August.

We have not even hit Labor Day, and you are already inducing a holiday panic I like to reserve for two days before Christmas. Don't remind me it is about to be cold/I am going to be broke while I am still enjoying sundresses and drinks with tiny umbrellas. You hear me Costco?  Put that damn Christmas wrap away, and make room for more samples.

Bad hair days.

I use the same shampoos, same conditioners, same technique (lather, rinse, who ever repeats?), yet randomly you strike without warning...usually on the days I need you to cooperate the most.  Keep it up, and I'll stop buying Redkin or Matrix and start buying that two in one shit from the dollar store to have more money for vodka.

Bikers in Chicago.

I fully support riding your bike to save the environment or even on gas, but when you shoot out of nowhere (and I mean out of fucking nowhere) then feel the need to slam on the hood of my car even after I have already seen you and stopped ten feet away, be prepared to hear more f bombs than Chris Rock's stand up.  If you want me to share the road with you, then you should abide by the same rules.  Two words: stop signs...(OK two more) you asshole.

Friday, August 2, 2013

The Pinch Hitter.

Hello friends.  Pull up a chair, because it is your favorite time of the month: story time! Today's adventure goes back to my first trip to San Diego. I was in my early 20s when my friend's sister moved there and suggested we come visit. I had never been to southern California, and I was recently single so I figured why not?

I had decided on the plane ride over that California was a magical land filled with incredibly hot surfer boys who all wanted my special breed of Midwestern sarcasm. I was a short, curvy, brunette with real boobs who, to California boys, would be like finding an onion ring in your bag of french fries...rare, unusual, yet still delicious, mmmmm crunchy, deep fried goodness. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh right onion rings, yum.

The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that the best way to get over my recent ex was to get under someone else. I was 23 years old, and I had never had one of those "one night stands" everyone kept talking about. I thought, "Fuck it." I was on vacation so if I regretted my decision, at least I would never have to see him again.

When we arrived at her apartment on the beach, I noticed a backpack and some men's clothing/shoes on the couch near the door. I immediately asked, "Oh shit, did you get a boyfriend already? You've only been here a few weeks right?" She laughed it off, explaining that since she lives on the beach, several of her guys friends toss their belongings in her apartment while they surf.

As she was finishing her sentence, a tall, tan, half naked man came walking through her door. She introduced him to us, as I remembered my plan from earlier and thought, "He will do just fine." I told her to invite him out to the bar later so my liquid courage could ensure I would stick it to my ex by letting someone stick it to me.

That'll show him.

We headed out and the drinks were flowing, but my surfer boy was nowhere to be found. I scanned the bar, and realized there was actually a cute boy at the other end.  How long had he been there, and why wasn't he attached to my face?

I walked down and started a conversation. Shots were poured and witty banter exchanged as the lights came on. I  had forgotten bars close at 2 AM in California so there was no time for a sloppy, drunken, public display of affection.  I suggested we go to the beach to make out because although I was about to be a dirty skanky slutty pants, I wanted it to be romantic. If I could help it, I was going to have "The Notebook" of one night stands.

We were rolling around on the beach while my phone kept ringing.  I finally decided to answer as a brief moment of clarity reminded me that I didn't tell my friends I was leaving, and depending on how drunk they were, they may or may not be concerned with my disappearance.

I opened my phone (who remembers flip phones!? Fuck I'm old) when a voice yelled, "Where are you!?" I told her I was on the beach getting my groove back (that reference is for you Ashlee, my Stella loving friend) and not to worry. She simply replied with, "Stay put. We are coming to get you." I hung up, thinking, "Yeah okay. Good luck finding me on this giant beach...and wait. Who is 'we'?"

A few minutes to hours later, I am not really sure cause hammered knows no time restraints, I saw my friend, her sister, and someone else I couldn't make out heading my way. I heard my name being called by a man's voice so I got up and walked towards him.

Upon arrival I immediately heard, "What are you doing?"

"Um making out. What are YOU doing."

"Seriously who is that guy? Stop it. You need to send him on his way because you are mine."

Wait what?  Who did this guy think he was storming over here telling me to ditch my future walk of shame because I belonged to him. I didn't even know him. What a cocky son of a... hot piece of ass. He was even cuter than I remembered. Shit. Maybe he was right. Was I his? For tonight at least I would be...

I ran back to my boy on the beach and told him there was an emergency at the house I had to go attend to right away. I am not even sure what excuse I used, but I am certain it involved either a horse or a monkey and a leaky toilet. Or was it a fire? The details are still a bit fuzzy.  Either way, he was pretty much stranded since his friends left, and it's damn near impossible to catch a cab in any beach town in San Diego.

I returned to the apartment to finish what I had hoped to start in the first place. We ended up sleeping together that night, the next night, and pretty much every single night for the rest of my trip.  I returned home with a sense of satisfaction, like I had completed a rite of passage I missed out on during college.

A few days later I received a Myspace (oh yeah) request from the boy. We kept in close contact for weeks, until we decided we really missed each other. I hadn't told any of my friends about my California conquest, so imagine their faces when I introduced them to my boyfriend who was also living with me, who had not existed the day before. I went from having a one night stand to having a live in boyfriend for several years. (Fun fact: he is actually the same guy I accidently made a porno with.)

I always imagined girls telling their friends about me like some slutty girl's urban legend..."My friend's sister's coworker's neighbor once slept with a guy the first night they met, and they are still together so there is still hope for you. I know you two hooked up in night club bathroom in Vegas, but he will call!"

Plus to this day we still joke that while I suck at one night stands, I am THAT good in bed, boys move across the country for me.