Tuesday, December 1, 2009


Recently I went on a road trip with some girlfriends to visit their family, hang out, and most importantly, go see a college football rivalry game. If I'm being completely honest, I don't care in the least bit for football. I don't like to play it, watch it, understand it, and I can't pay attention to whats going on for more than a minute. And while I'm being honest, the only reason I enjoy going is to say I went, and partake of the incredibly over priced artery-clogging food they have to offer there. Sad? Yes. Un-American? Probably.

My friends and I were making small talk trying to kill time until the game started, getting comfortable, snapping a few pictures-being girls. We had joked about hoping some hot guys would sit next to us and laughed about it. Well right as the game was starting, a college age guy came and stood next to me, and smiled real big. Another honest confession-meeting guys in situations like that is my least favorite thing in the world. I'm shy, uncomfortable, and am in no way able to act like my usual self. I get embarrassed. So I was horrified when he started screaming and slapping me high fives every time anything exciting happened, which was apparently all the time. The crowds were noisy, so when he repeatedly tried to talk to me, I had absolutely no idea what he was saying. Which made things more awkward. Little did I know that the noise had nothing to do with his incoherent ramblings-he was drunk as a dog and slurring so badly that he didn't even know what he was saying. All the sudden I heard yelling and looked to my left where he had been standing right beside me. He had fallen down to the next level on the guy in front of him, laying in the mans seat while the victim was trying to peel himself off the guy in front of him. Ridiculous. So, we found different seats.

Of course our luck would be that pretty much the entire stadium was completely plastered, so no seats were safe. The guys sitting in front of us were interesting enough. Once again it was high fives all around whenever anything good happened. Apparently my reactions were not satisfactory to one of the guys so he made it into a little game that he would give all the other girls high fives and then look at me and turn away. Well good. I was completely high fived out, and was actually looking forward to just watching the game uninterrupted. 

But that wasn't going to happen. The guy sitting in front of me said he would give me a sticker if I would act more excited. "Anything to shut you up" was what I was thinking; besides, the sticker he had was pretty hilarious so I actually did want it. "Ok, I will". So he peeled the sticker from his shirt and as I reached for it, he put it right on my boobs and started rubbing his hands all over it to "get it to stick". So I pushed his hands off and said "that's OK, I can do it", but it took him a while to get the point. In the meantime he just kept putting his hands all over me until I pushed him hard enough that it threw him off balance and he desisted. Annoying.

The game was almost over and we were all kind of tired and discouraged because "our" (their) team wasn't doing so hot. One of my girlfriends Eva was sitting next to a guy she knew through a mutual friend (who seemed very nice and chatty) and they were talking on and off throughout the game. For the second time that day I heard yelling, only I looked to my left this time. A man sitting behind Eva had fallen onto our level, knocking the nice sober guy sitting next to her into the man in front of him. I was completely paranoid for the rest of the game that that same situation would happen to me, only I'd fall far enough to meet my death, landing in some guys keg of beer.

  Amazingly enough there were a few other awkward moments, but I won't bore you with those for now. But the good news is, the game finally ended and our team won. What a weekend.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

"Nice Panties."

When I was a kid, (okay, it wasn't all that long ago, but we'll go with that) I used to Civil War Reenact. Yes, you heard correctly. It was actually a lot of fun if you enjoy rugged camping with your closest friends.

Most reenactments consisted of a weekend of hard labor and battle's. But the main thing all the young people looked forward to, was the ball on Saturday nights. Big canvas tents, food, friends, dancing, hot guys, etc. So even though the majority of us girls that had been working all day were sweaty and disgusting (there were no showers), we would usually spend quite a bit of time cleaning ourselves up, at least trying to look cute.

At this one particular event, the ball was exceptional, and my overall favorite to attend.
My best friends and I started the long walk to the tents, but first the girls wanted to stop at the porta potties, which were always delightful. I made a short time of it and was waiting on them to come out. Impatient but very excited, my mood was soaring. While standing there thinking to myself how nice I must look, a cute little old man was walking down the path toward me. I smiled my most winning smile in his direction; he stopped and looked me up and down. "Girlie-(I smiled wider knowing a complement must be on its way) "your dress." "Yes?" (still smiling smugly to myself) "It's tucked up in your underpants". My face fell. And with that he was on his way and I was left standing there agape, and completely mortified.

Sure enough my dress was tucked in the entire back and side of my underwear. Karma's a bitch.

"Chinese and a fist pound, please."

One night I was hanging with my buddy Bobby and some of his football friends. As usual, I was the only girl amongst many farting guys, watching sports and stupid guy shows or playing xbox. When it was time to start the game playing, we made our way back to Bobby's friends room where the xbox was located. The only place to sit on other than the floor, was the bed; the only place more questionable than the bed was the floor, so I chose the bed. I've sat on many college guys creepy and crusty beds, but this was by far the worst yet. A full size frame-less bed with little kid sheets, and who knows what else was on there. So I took the safest looking outer corner where I could make an easy escape, if necessary. The worst part about the crusty bed was the piece of foam under the fitted sheet. It was cut haphazardly, starting at the top left hand corner and ending near the bottom right hand corner. Awesome. Lumpy and crusty.

After the guys grew tired of game playing and taking turns mooning each other, Bobby and I made our way back to his place. First he stopped and picked up some chinese for dinner (I wasn't hungry). After we pulled up and got out of the car I told Bobby I was going to head out. After all, the whole night had been an ambush. What started as a casual invite to hang with him and some of our mutual friends at his place, turned into just the two of us sitting alone on his crusty awkward bed, and when that went nowhere, making our way to his friends crusty bed where all of his friends referred to me as "Bobby's girl" all night, which I ignored.

"Already? It's only 11:00." "I know but I'm beat, and I have to work early." "Alright". Bobby made his way toward me. Let me first preface this by saying him and I never are very good at goodbyes. They're always just...weird. We never hug, or really even look at each other, we just split. So as he leaned toward me I figured it was time to bring out the old fist pound. As I went in to pound it, he attempted to give me a side hug which went horribly wrong, and ended in us facing away from each other, my hand still in a tight fist thrust upward, and Bobby's mushu chicken was right in my face, further clouding the whole confusing ordeal. As soon as I could break away I did and we both mumbled our goodbyes while staring at the ground. As I made my way to my car I thought to myself "What the hell just happened?" Needless to say, it was another sufficiently awkward evening.

"You're so fly."

I threw down my leather jacket and purse in the office after clocking in, and begrudgingly made my way towards the back room to get ready for when the shipment arrived. The delivery guy came and went, and I was left with a crap load of boxes that would only get processed completely that day by a miracle. After an hour of ripping open the boxes, dumping their contents on the wobbly counter, and breaking down the boxes (repeat), the new guy came in, looking for some guidance on where he should start.

I gave him the exciting task of "de-bagging" everything I hadn't gotten to yet. The door to the back room slammed shut and I heard the familiar sound of the She Devils shoes, click clacking down the hall. "How's it goin back room team?" I heard the shrill loathsome voice before she appeared in the room. She stood before me, frizzy curly hair, tattoo peeking out of her sleeve, and her crazy eyes to kill that could literally set you on fire if she willed them to. "It's going pretty well", I said in the rehearsed way I always do, considering she asks five different versions of the same question every 20 minutes or so. The new guy didn't turn around when she came in, just continued taking each parcel out of the plastic mechanically. 'Smart move' I thought to myself. Staying out of the way is usually the best defense. I had begun to go over my plan in my head of how we were going to get everything finished by two o'clock, since I knew that's what she'd ask next. There was no way in hell we would of course, but I'd bull crap my way through it and tell her, "I don't see any reason why we can't finish it all today" like I always do. But I'd say whatever I had to to satisfy her enough that she would go away for five seconds. She was leaning on a hanging wrack slouching, one hooker boot extended in front of her. Seemingly innocent, but so evil. She looked at me with a vacant stare, and paused for a moment. "Ethel, your fly is down."

She eased into that one gracefully. Horrified I looked over at the new guy; he was still de-bagging. His expression was one of great amusement, but his gaze was still fixed on the work in front of him, thank god. I looked back at her; she was grimacing and silent. As I reached to pull my zipper up, the sound echoed
uncomfortably in the dead, silent room. Great. Another day in the life.