Friday night.
Time for some laughs, right?
I mean, I've been extremely aggressive recently... especially yesterday. As I was driving out of the gym, some asshole dude in a BMW was tailgating me as I was trying to pull out of the parking, then he honked at me for not taking a U-turn at the moment HE wanted me to, to which I responded with looking back and flipping him off.
Once we both did our U-turns, he did the tailgate shit again, and when he was going to pass me, a car got in his lane, so I sped up.
I can be a cunt right back, you son of a bitch.
SO he almost crashes, but maneuvers his way out of the trap only to speed off... all to no avail, because the streetlight turns red on him. I get right behind him, turn on my high beams, and arrange my car far enough so my lights hit his side mirror in the right spot where he's getting blinded.
LICK MY CLIT, MOTHERFUCKER!
It's behavior like that which one day will get me killed...
(Funny enough, a couple of minutes prior to that incident was when I penned a new nickname for myself as I kicked and punched my way through kickboxing class: AngrAmelie. I was laughing for the rest of class and up until that fucking asshole driver pissed me off. The sound of the nickname is so close to "acromegaly" that I couldn't control myself and I'd find myself chuckling to myself, like a total mental patient)
ANYWAY, since I'm aggressive, and I want to cut that shit out... and it's Friday... I'll mention something from last week that is/was quite mortifying to me, but hilarious to Mom and Sister when I let them in on it.
I'm always game for making fun of myself... so I'll write it here.
Plus, I want to get this shit out in the open just so the embarrassment will quit haunting me:
Day- Saturday, October 29th.
Place- The Gold Coast Casino ballroom (I think that's the spot? It's that place right across from The Palms).
Occasion- Pacemaker's cousin's wedding.
Part I.
So, last week's wedding was a trip... as I'm sure everyone can guess.
Sister and I made a very uncomfortable splash because the majority of Hometown was present. They hadn't seen us in a while, like... possibly over a year... so, when they saw us,
they kind of freaked out.
Most were very kind and would go so far as to touch us.
Many had this look on their face... where their eyes sparkled and shit. Those kind of broke my heart, because I could see the sense of... admiration/happiness they had in seeing "Wow, she actually FINALLY did it... she's not fat anymore!" It felt strange to know all I had to do to garner their approval was to drop weight. Very strange/uncomfortable/sad.
I'm sweet. I'm funny. I'm smart... but what catches your admiration is my ability to fucking drop 50 pounds in 6 months? WHAT. THE. FUCK?!
Anyway, point is: there was a TON of attention being given to Sister and me.
It was like being on a reality show, where people are checking your every move.
I'm socially awkward... to a damn near unfathomable degree... but I was trying SO HARD to act confident. Happy. Comfortable. NORMAL.
The biggest test came when it was dinner time. Buffet style.
I had to stand in line for about fifteen minutes... answering questions, "gracefully" accepting compliments from the Hometowners... staying straight and not slouching.
That test I passed with flying colors.
I also passed the "serve yourself" portion of the test. I thought I'd surely fuck up right there because I'm clumsy as they come. I trip on some of the most impossible shit... like a spilled pea or something of that ridiculously stupid nature. I also often tremble like a fawn when in public... you know... that whole social anxiety shit of mine... I thought maybe that would kick in and I'd turn all Parkinson's as I'd be in the middle of serving myself some of the chicken marsala... that would ultimately end up on my dress... or worse yet, on the person next to me's dress.
But NO, NONE of that happened! I even managed to serve myself half a plate of steamed ASPARAGUS! That glorious vegetable! And none of it--not even the tasty juices-- ended up on the floor (uh... ok, maybe that's a half-truth... since one of the times, when I cut my asparagus and placed it on my fork, in my... child-like enthusiasm, I kiiind of missed my mouth and the asparagus fell to the floor. It's scientifically proven that I can NEVER be a smooth operator)!
No... the horrible incident happened the moment I reached my table with my goodies.
Part II.
So... recently, for some unknown reason, I've been excessively salivating (like how I try to keep it classy and not just say "Lately I've been HELLA drooling, dude!").
I'm sure you all now know where this is headed...
Smart people would probably hypothesize that I'm drooling because of my change in diet. I've had to tweak that shit so my metabolism doesn't fry or get too accustomed to my meals. It's a way to kick that motherfucker in its side to keep it on its toes, so to speak.
When I see food that really appetizes me, my mouth goes crazy. A totally new phenomenon for me.
I always joke about drooling... especially when I refer to a dude I find very attractive... I joke about him making my mouth water and whatnot, but of course it's a lie. I've never been able to drool over food (unless it was Tabasco sauce... even the smell of that shit has made my mouth water since I was a toddler)... because I apparently fucked up that part of my brain in middle school when I thought anorexia sounded like a good idea.
But recently, I've caught myself swallowing an abnormal (for me) amount of saliva.
If there's food in sight, I need to be careful before I speak, because I don't want to spray any innocent folks standing within spitting range.
I guess social anxiety makes me forget important shit... like SWALLOW YOUR FUCKING SPIT, YOU ANIMAL!
Part III.
I arrive at my table at the reception, second only to my sister.
Everyone is still in the buffet line, except for the family sitting at the table directly in front of me.
Ohhhh... you should know where this is going by now, or else we can't be friends...
I start fiddling with my silverware, trying to make room for my salad plate, AND my dinner plate. There are so many fucking forks, and knives, and glasses everywhere, but not room for my damn plateS!
The Universe, yet again plotting against me! I can't hold TWO fucking plates for too long before something eats shit and I make an ass of myself! MOOOOVE these fucking glasses and forks out of my fucking wayyyy!
As much as The Universe tried fucking up my day by putting that new little too-many-glasses-and-silverware trap in my way, I kicked it in the balls and set both of my plates on the table without any stains, or dropped food, or injuries to me or third parties.
Then I committed the fatal mistake... of sneaking a triumphant glimpse at my plate of asparagus as I was pulling out my chair to take a seat.
My head was bowed, looking to make sure I wasn't sitting on anything (terrible habit a girl acquires when raised with a bunch of mischievous boys who like to fuck around with ketchup packets, tacks, and other sharp/sticky object), and that's when it happened:
An ENORMOUS amount of drool escaped my mouth... and landed on my seat.
FUCK. ME.
SHIT.
FUCK.
GODDAMN IT!
WHY?!
What did I do? What any other human does when they do something stupid/embarrassing/incriminating which can be used for decades for blackmailing purposes: I looked around to make sure no one saw.
DID anyone see?
I sure fucking hope not.
I made eye-contact with one of the girls at the table in front of me... and I gave her my best "YOU SAW NOTHING HERE. YA GOT ME, BITCH?" look.
Poor thing, I'm sure she didn't see shit other than me giving her a menacing scowl... as I wiped my seat with the cloth napkin in my hand.
It took me about two minute to compose myself. I was busy trying not to burst out in maniacal laughter, 'cause that's what I do when mortified. I was also finding it hilarious that no one had just witnessed such a potentially traumatizing event in my life.
Here I just drooled all over my seat like some Saint Bernard, at a wedding, and NO ONE saw! Not even D, whose sitting INCHES away from me! AHAHAHAHA!
I took a deep breath, waited until the last person at my table took his/her seat, and then proceeded to eat my drool-inducing asparagus.
...
I then took a potty break and released the asparagine-laden nuclear waste known as post-asparagus-piss...
Universe: 75687120
Me: 0
Time for some laughs, right?
I mean, I've been extremely aggressive recently... especially yesterday. As I was driving out of the gym, some asshole dude in a BMW was tailgating me as I was trying to pull out of the parking, then he honked at me for not taking a U-turn at the moment HE wanted me to, to which I responded with looking back and flipping him off.
Once we both did our U-turns, he did the tailgate shit again, and when he was going to pass me, a car got in his lane, so I sped up.
I can be a cunt right back, you son of a bitch.
SO he almost crashes, but maneuvers his way out of the trap only to speed off... all to no avail, because the streetlight turns red on him. I get right behind him, turn on my high beams, and arrange my car far enough so my lights hit his side mirror in the right spot where he's getting blinded.
LICK MY CLIT, MOTHERFUCKER!
It's behavior like that which one day will get me killed...
(Funny enough, a couple of minutes prior to that incident was when I penned a new nickname for myself as I kicked and punched my way through kickboxing class: AngrAmelie. I was laughing for the rest of class and up until that fucking asshole driver pissed me off. The sound of the nickname is so close to "acromegaly" that I couldn't control myself and I'd find myself chuckling to myself, like a total mental patient)
ANYWAY, since I'm aggressive, and I want to cut that shit out... and it's Friday... I'll mention something from last week that is/was quite mortifying to me, but hilarious to Mom and Sister when I let them in on it.
I'm always game for making fun of myself... so I'll write it here.
Plus, I want to get this shit out in the open just so the embarrassment will quit haunting me:
Day- Saturday, October 29th.
Place- The Gold Coast Casino ballroom (I think that's the spot? It's that place right across from The Palms).
Occasion- Pacemaker's cousin's wedding.
Part I.
So, last week's wedding was a trip... as I'm sure everyone can guess.
Sister and I made a very uncomfortable splash because the majority of Hometown was present. They hadn't seen us in a while, like... possibly over a year... so, when they saw us,
 |
| Baby Sis got that posing shit on lock! She's precious! |
 |
| Me? Not so much. Dig all that mess in the background? In my defense, it belongs to pretty-girl D. It's her room. |
Most were very kind and would go so far as to touch us.
Many had this look on their face... where their eyes sparkled and shit. Those kind of broke my heart, because I could see the sense of... admiration/happiness they had in seeing "Wow, she actually FINALLY did it... she's not fat anymore!" It felt strange to know all I had to do to garner their approval was to drop weight. Very strange/uncomfortable/sad.
I'm sweet. I'm funny. I'm smart... but what catches your admiration is my ability to fucking drop 50 pounds in 6 months? WHAT. THE. FUCK?!
Anyway, point is: there was a TON of attention being given to Sister and me.
It was like being on a reality show, where people are checking your every move.
I'm socially awkward... to a damn near unfathomable degree... but I was trying SO HARD to act confident. Happy. Comfortable. NORMAL.
The biggest test came when it was dinner time. Buffet style.
I had to stand in line for about fifteen minutes... answering questions, "gracefully" accepting compliments from the Hometowners... staying straight and not slouching.
That test I passed with flying colors.
I also passed the "serve yourself" portion of the test. I thought I'd surely fuck up right there because I'm clumsy as they come. I trip on some of the most impossible shit... like a spilled pea or something of that ridiculously stupid nature. I also often tremble like a fawn when in public... you know... that whole social anxiety shit of mine... I thought maybe that would kick in and I'd turn all Parkinson's as I'd be in the middle of serving myself some of the chicken marsala... that would ultimately end up on my dress... or worse yet, on the person next to me's dress.
But NO, NONE of that happened! I even managed to serve myself half a plate of steamed ASPARAGUS! That glorious vegetable! And none of it--not even the tasty juices-- ended up on the floor (uh... ok, maybe that's a half-truth... since one of the times, when I cut my asparagus and placed it on my fork, in my... child-like enthusiasm, I kiiind of missed my mouth and the asparagus fell to the floor. It's scientifically proven that I can NEVER be a smooth operator)!
No... the horrible incident happened the moment I reached my table with my goodies.
Part II.
So... recently, for some unknown reason, I've been excessively salivating (like how I try to keep it classy and not just say "Lately I've been HELLA drooling, dude!").
I'm sure you all now know where this is headed...
Smart people would probably hypothesize that I'm drooling because of my change in diet. I've had to tweak that shit so my metabolism doesn't fry or get too accustomed to my meals. It's a way to kick that motherfucker in its side to keep it on its toes, so to speak.
When I see food that really appetizes me, my mouth goes crazy. A totally new phenomenon for me.
I always joke about drooling... especially when I refer to a dude I find very attractive... I joke about him making my mouth water and whatnot, but of course it's a lie. I've never been able to drool over food (unless it was Tabasco sauce... even the smell of that shit has made my mouth water since I was a toddler)... because I apparently fucked up that part of my brain in middle school when I thought anorexia sounded like a good idea.
But recently, I've caught myself swallowing an abnormal (for me) amount of saliva.
If there's food in sight, I need to be careful before I speak, because I don't want to spray any innocent folks standing within spitting range.
I guess social anxiety makes me forget important shit... like SWALLOW YOUR FUCKING SPIT, YOU ANIMAL!
Part III.
I arrive at my table at the reception, second only to my sister.
Everyone is still in the buffet line, except for the family sitting at the table directly in front of me.
Ohhhh... you should know where this is going by now, or else we can't be friends...
I start fiddling with my silverware, trying to make room for my salad plate, AND my dinner plate. There are so many fucking forks, and knives, and glasses everywhere, but not room for my damn plateS!
The Universe, yet again plotting against me! I can't hold TWO fucking plates for too long before something eats shit and I make an ass of myself! MOOOOVE these fucking glasses and forks out of my fucking wayyyy!
As much as The Universe tried fucking up my day by putting that new little too-many-glasses-and-silverware trap in my way, I kicked it in the balls and set both of my plates on the table without any stains, or dropped food, or injuries to me or third parties.
Then I committed the fatal mistake... of sneaking a triumphant glimpse at my plate of asparagus as I was pulling out my chair to take a seat.
My head was bowed, looking to make sure I wasn't sitting on anything (terrible habit a girl acquires when raised with a bunch of mischievous boys who like to fuck around with ketchup packets, tacks, and other sharp/sticky object), and that's when it happened:
An ENORMOUS amount of drool escaped my mouth... and landed on my seat.
FUCK. ME.
SHIT.
FUCK.
GODDAMN IT!
WHY?!
What did I do? What any other human does when they do something stupid/embarrassing/incriminating which can be used for decades for blackmailing purposes: I looked around to make sure no one saw.
DID anyone see?
I sure fucking hope not.
I made eye-contact with one of the girls at the table in front of me... and I gave her my best "YOU SAW NOTHING HERE. YA GOT ME, BITCH?" look.
Poor thing, I'm sure she didn't see shit other than me giving her a menacing scowl... as I wiped my seat with the cloth napkin in my hand.
It took me about two minute to compose myself. I was busy trying not to burst out in maniacal laughter, 'cause that's what I do when mortified. I was also finding it hilarious that no one had just witnessed such a potentially traumatizing event in my life.
Here I just drooled all over my seat like some Saint Bernard, at a wedding, and NO ONE saw! Not even D, whose sitting INCHES away from me! AHAHAHAHA!
I took a deep breath, waited until the last person at my table took his/her seat, and then proceeded to eat my drool-inducing asparagus.
...
I then took a potty break and released the asparagine-laden nuclear waste known as post-asparagus-piss...
Universe: 75687120
Me: 0
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