A few weeks ago Boyfriend and I went to dinner and we drank a bottle of wine, which means I drank half a bottle of wine. I don’t mean to write that like, “Oh! What’s up losers the other night I totally drank a half a bottle of wine and was like soooo wasted… word!!!” I’m not bragging. If I wanted to brag I would talk about the time Davis Girl and I went to Central Market and drank 3 bottles, had Boyfriend come pick us up only to go back to my house drink one more and spend the rest of the night crying on my old back deck because we just loved each other so much. I could really brag about that night, but that’s not the point of this post.
I had not had anything alcoholic since Baton Rouge, so that half a bottle of wine got me a little tipsy. Nice tipsy, you know. Hyper tipsy, but not crazy annoying “I can’t understand you, you lush” tipsy. Anyway we had a great dinner and came home and started a game of Scrabble. I know you guy want to start judging, but we like Scrabble and tipsy Scrabble is even better. Then it was as if Jesus looked down on us all comfy on the futon, Boyfriend’s legs on mine, me dropping triple word scores all over him, and said, “Yes, I like those people. I will make their night even better because I am Jesus… and I can.”
That’s when I found the FUSE and MTV HITS channel I had no idea we even had access to on our TV.
That night FUSE was running a two hour Britney Spears Special that played ALL of her music videos!
Jesus really does love me.
Last night after watching Bear from Man vs. Wild bite a snake’s head off, I turned to the MTV HITS channel and watched a few videos before heading to bed. Which means, this morning when Boyfriend turned on the TV it was still on MTV HITS. He had to come and get me when this song started playing…
Introducing Mindless Behavior!
Staring Princeton! (Don't you ivy leaguers feel stupid now?) Prodigy! (I don't think he was the Smack My Bitch Up singer from 1997, because he probably was only... well actually I was going to type 3, but really he was probably not even born in the 90s...) Ray Ray (who I'm pretty sure might be that Willow Smith kid) and Roc Royal (who according to lots of YouTube comments is sooooo cute!!!)
I'm pretty sure these kids are a mutation of NSYNC and KrisKross with a little Will Smith thrown in there to keep it clean.
Let's take a sample of their lyrics...
"I got a clue how you feel for me. 1-4-3 a smiley with a wink. That's how you feel baby that's what's up. A hundred forty characters, is more than enough." - Okay I might not be on Twitter, but I get the 140 character reference (thank God) but I have no idea was 1-4-3 means. Boyfriend and I tried to figure it out this morning, and I'll be honest my mind got real dirty real fast and since I told my Dad I would try not to cruse as much on my blog I don't think a paragraph about what I suggested 1-4-3 might mean would make him very happy. But my point it, if 1-4-3 isn't dirty then why not just say what it is instead of being all mysterious and talking in number codes.
"When you say yo, then I'll say hey love. You hit me with a sad face, what I do? I hit you with a question mark. You send me back a J slash K, said I'm just playing with you." - If this is how kids are flirting over text messages to quote a fabulous movie, "I weep for the future." Really? Sad Face and then j/k??? Come on youth of America! When I was in high school it was practically an art form, flirting over AIM and then texting. I can't tell you how many nights I stayed up until 4AM perfecting my electronical flirting skills. Step it up kiddos, because sad face, j/k isn't going to hold them for long.
"She text me after school, she do it like it's homework. Up in the salon, she do it like it's homework. My girl's in love, I think I'm in love. I wonder what she texted now." - THIS DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!! At first I'm thinking if she's texting him likes it's homework, she must be bored and about to break up with him because homework is boring and dumb and these prepubescent Black Street wannabees are comparing their lover's texts to spelling words or Biology terms. Yet, then she's in love and he's in love. With each other? With the teacher? With who? AND THEN, he wonders what she texted... Hey dumby! Why don't you actually look at the text??? Just saying that might help a little...
This is reason 46,285 why I don't want kids, you have to listen to this crap while driving them to the movies or soccer practice in your mini van.
Showing posts with label davis girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label davis girl. Show all posts
Friday, February 11, 2011
Monday, October 18, 2010
How I Met Boyfriend and How He Lied About Being Old...
Boyfriend’s birthday is on Wednesday and he will be 32 years old. In my Oregon Trail post I wrote about how we try not to have “how old were you when…” conversations because it can quickly get awkward, but other than that our age difference isn’t a big deal at all. Of course it helped that when we first started dating he told me he was really like 2 years younger than he really was.
Let’s go back…
I met Boyfriend when I was 20 and living with Davis Girl and Boy Roommate. We had all just moved in together and I was pretty much having THE WORST SUMMER EVER!!! My boyfriend at the time, Ex-Boyfriend, had just left to study abroad in Amsterdam for a year and I broke my foot on Old Co-Workers head at Shlitterbahn and had to walk around in a black boot all summer. So, there I was crying every day because I missed Ex-Boyfriend (well and because I was fucking pissed that he had the nerves and balls to leave me for a whole year and not just a semester like normal college students), and hobbling around on my retarded foot… it wasn’t a pretty picture. Davis Girl and Boy Roommate spent a lot of that summer getting me out of the house and cheering me up. One of the ways Boy Roommate did this was to take me to play water volleyball.
Let’s go back even further…
This game of water volleyball has been going on since the early 1990’s. Technically a few people would argue it goes back even further than then, but the early 90’s is when Chief started playing and he’s Chief so that’s where I’ll start. You see Chief was a spry Doctoral Student at UT and moved into this new apartment complex that had a water volleyball pool. After a lot of practicing and playing and inviting of friends, Chief became Chief and he has stayed there ever since. So the game now is a big mixture of people. Some people live or, more usually, lived in the complex and found the game addicting. Others, like myself, were brought to the game by someone else who knew about it. Boy Roommate many, many years earlier had lived at the complex and started playing. Like almost everyone else, he had moved away, but still came back Wednesdays, Thursdays, and the weekends to play ball.
I met Boyfriend that first summer I started going to the pool. He was never rude or mean by any means, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. He was just quiet, which I always thought was sort of odd because his best buddy, his hetero life mate in the world of water volleyball, was the loudest most obnoxious person out there. (And, according to Davis Girl, “the cute one”.)
Some people I met playing water volleyball…
Chief (who holds a PhD from UT in History)
Creepy (whose real name is John)
Wescott (who just might be the most competitive person I’ve ever met in my life, but his parents are like poets or English Professors, so I think it kinda makes since. Also he did a project for one of his classes about the evolution of the AWVP’s terminology. Check it out here.)
Pat (who wears funny glasses)
Jess (Boyfriend’s Hetero life mate who is the other half of The Wild Boys, yes my boyfriend is a “wild boy”)
Rachel (Jess’ Ex-girlfriend who I was told, “can fuck you up” on my first night at the pool by Navy. No, I was never “fucked up” by Rachel)
Jim Back (no words can describe Jim Back, except that he is a father now and “I weep for the future”)
Bunny (because who don’t love a Big Lewbowski refrenece)
OJ (“Other Jesus” because one savoir just isn’t evough)
If you would like to learn more about the AWVP please click here.
Yeah so summer number 1 Boyfriend didn’t say two words to me.
During summer number 2, the next summer when I was 21, Boyfriend asked out my roommate. My male roommate. So, one Saturday there weren’t that many people at the pool playing, which is very odd for a weekend in the summer. There was however a whole lot of beer and a very hot sun. Needless to say, we all got quiet drunk very easily. With a little beer in his system Boyfriend got up the nerve to not only start talking to me, but also start flirting. It was nice. Then as the sun started dipping behind the buildings and games started slowing down, he went up to Boy Roommate…
Boyfriend: “So, what are you going to do tonight?”
Boy Roommate: “Um, I don’t know man. Davis Girl is working so Lemon Lady and I will probably just chill at home.”
Boyfriend: “Oh… Oh, well some friends and I are going downtown and you should totally come. It will be fun.”
Boy Roommate: “Um, sure…”
Boyfriend: “Yeah… okay… andyoushouldbringLemonLadywithyou.”
Boy Roommate: “Yeah, sure, okay.”
That’s how it happened. Boyfriend asked out Boy Roommate and the rest is history.
Now, Boyfriend’s age came up that very day at the pool. I will swear on my death bed that when I asked Boyfriend how old he was that day he told me 26. I had never dated anyone more than a year older than me and 26 was a big pill to swallow. In my head I thought of his age like this…
“26 is almost like being 25 and 25 is still considered early (okay maybe mid) 20s. So really he’s not that much older than me.”
Then a few weeks later I found out that Boyfriend was really 27, not 26, and he was about to turn 28 in October. In a matter of weeks, Boyfriend aged 3 years. It’s a good thing I was already completely in love.
And because I'm a sucker for cute photos... here are some from that second summer together playing ball.
Let’s go back…
I met Boyfriend when I was 20 and living with Davis Girl and Boy Roommate. We had all just moved in together and I was pretty much having THE WORST SUMMER EVER!!! My boyfriend at the time, Ex-Boyfriend, had just left to study abroad in Amsterdam for a year and I broke my foot on Old Co-Workers head at Shlitterbahn and had to walk around in a black boot all summer. So, there I was crying every day because I missed Ex-Boyfriend (well and because I was fucking pissed that he had the nerves and balls to leave me for a whole year and not just a semester like normal college students), and hobbling around on my retarded foot… it wasn’t a pretty picture. Davis Girl and Boy Roommate spent a lot of that summer getting me out of the house and cheering me up. One of the ways Boy Roommate did this was to take me to play water volleyball.
Let’s go back even further…
This game of water volleyball has been going on since the early 1990’s. Technically a few people would argue it goes back even further than then, but the early 90’s is when Chief started playing and he’s Chief so that’s where I’ll start. You see Chief was a spry Doctoral Student at UT and moved into this new apartment complex that had a water volleyball pool. After a lot of practicing and playing and inviting of friends, Chief became Chief and he has stayed there ever since. So the game now is a big mixture of people. Some people live or, more usually, lived in the complex and found the game addicting. Others, like myself, were brought to the game by someone else who knew about it. Boy Roommate many, many years earlier had lived at the complex and started playing. Like almost everyone else, he had moved away, but still came back Wednesdays, Thursdays, and the weekends to play ball.
I met Boyfriend that first summer I started going to the pool. He was never rude or mean by any means, but he wasn’t exactly friendly either. He was just quiet, which I always thought was sort of odd because his best buddy, his hetero life mate in the world of water volleyball, was the loudest most obnoxious person out there. (And, according to Davis Girl, “the cute one”.)
Some people I met playing water volleyball…
Chief (who holds a PhD from UT in History)
Creepy (whose real name is John)
Wescott (who just might be the most competitive person I’ve ever met in my life, but his parents are like poets or English Professors, so I think it kinda makes since. Also he did a project for one of his classes about the evolution of the AWVP’s terminology. Check it out here.)
Pat (who wears funny glasses)
Jess (Boyfriend’s Hetero life mate who is the other half of The Wild Boys, yes my boyfriend is a “wild boy”)
Rachel (Jess’ Ex-girlfriend who I was told, “can fuck you up” on my first night at the pool by Navy. No, I was never “fucked up” by Rachel)
Jim Back (no words can describe Jim Back, except that he is a father now and “I weep for the future”)
Bunny (because who don’t love a Big Lewbowski refrenece)
OJ (“Other Jesus” because one savoir just isn’t evough)
If you would like to learn more about the AWVP please click here.
Yeah so summer number 1 Boyfriend didn’t say two words to me.
During summer number 2, the next summer when I was 21, Boyfriend asked out my roommate. My male roommate. So, one Saturday there weren’t that many people at the pool playing, which is very odd for a weekend in the summer. There was however a whole lot of beer and a very hot sun. Needless to say, we all got quiet drunk very easily. With a little beer in his system Boyfriend got up the nerve to not only start talking to me, but also start flirting. It was nice. Then as the sun started dipping behind the buildings and games started slowing down, he went up to Boy Roommate…
Boyfriend: “So, what are you going to do tonight?”
Boy Roommate: “Um, I don’t know man. Davis Girl is working so Lemon Lady and I will probably just chill at home.”
Boyfriend: “Oh… Oh, well some friends and I are going downtown and you should totally come. It will be fun.”
Boy Roommate: “Um, sure…”
Boyfriend: “Yeah… okay… andyoushouldbringLemonLadywithyou.”
Boy Roommate: “Yeah, sure, okay.”
That’s how it happened. Boyfriend asked out Boy Roommate and the rest is history.
Now, Boyfriend’s age came up that very day at the pool. I will swear on my death bed that when I asked Boyfriend how old he was that day he told me 26. I had never dated anyone more than a year older than me and 26 was a big pill to swallow. In my head I thought of his age like this…
“26 is almost like being 25 and 25 is still considered early (okay maybe mid) 20s. So really he’s not that much older than me.”
Then a few weeks later I found out that Boyfriend was really 27, not 26, and he was about to turn 28 in October. In a matter of weeks, Boyfriend aged 3 years. It’s a good thing I was already completely in love.
And because I'm a sucker for cute photos... here are some from that second summer together playing ball.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Halloween!!! It's (almost) only a month away...
I have giant floor to ceiling windows in my office, and lately I feel like all they do is trick me into thinking the weather might finally be changing and fall might be coming to Austin. Three weeks ago, one of Boyfriend’s friends called me to get us both to join his Fantasy Football League. He lives in Minnesota and three weeks ago it was 55 degrees! He told me he wore gloves and a beanie to work that morning. I miss fall weather like that. When we lived in Germany during my high school years, we might get one or two football game in before we gave up wearing our normal Cheerleading outfits and added gloves, sweatshirts, and beanies. Boyfriend always says that fall comes to Texas the week of his birthday, and honestly ever since we have been dating (for the past four years) come October 20th, it does get cooler.
It has been rainy here, and I think it’s the rain that tricks me into thinking it could be cooler outside. Plus, my windows are tinted, so everything looks just a little darker. That’s it. Tinted windows and rainy days are enough to trick my mind into believing it might be 65 outside. But it’s not.
One of my favorite things about fall is Halloween. Growing up I loved Halloween. I loved deciding what costume I would wear trick-or-treating and talking to all my friends about what they would be. I liked going to the Commissary with my mom in buying huge bags of candy for the kids in our neighborhood. Even when I was young enough to trick-or-treat, I still loved watching the other kids and seeing all the fun and creative costumes. Halloween is totally Fashion Week for eight year olds.
Costumes I’ve worn on Halloween…
Rainbow Bright
Bridal Tutu from my ballet recital the year before
Witch
Clown/Jester with cool mask
Cat
What is weird is I can’t remember at all what I dressed up as when we lived in Yorktown, Virginia. I know I must have been something, because I think one year I went trick-or-treating with my friend Jennifer and the other year I must have gone around the neighborhood with Michael Pienkowski, but I can’t for the life of me think about what I would have gone as.
When you get older, Halloween becomes (to quote Mean Girls) “The one night a year a girl can dress as a total slut and no other girls can say anything mean about her”. I did this once for a Halloween party Davis Girl, Old Roommate, and I threw my 2nd year of college. Hosting a bad ass Halloween Party was on my list of Things To Do Before I Turn 25 and I marked it off after that night. Yes, when you get older Halloween pretty much becomes a girl’s “pass night” for dressing like a common whore. There are three main ways girls do this.
How to be a Whore on Halloween and be totally acceptable…
Add Animal Ears. (Again to quote Mean Girls) Gretchen - “What are you suppose to be?” Karen – (pointing to her fake grey ears) “I’m a mouse, duh.” Yes, adding any type of animal ear to your slutty dress or, if you’re really daring, your lingerie makes a great Halloween costume.
Add Wings. The year of my slutty début I went with this option. Slutty black dress, fishnets, high heels, and wings… "look ma I’m a fairy! A slutty fairy, but a fairy…"
Kindergarten Career. Okay no, I’m not trying to be gross or pedophile like. What I mean is if you walk into a Kindergarten class and asked the little boys and girls what they want to be when they grow, whatever they tell you will be a great slutty Halloween costume. Policeman! Nurse! Pirate! (What? You can want to be a pirate when you grow up…) All of these occupations make great slutty Halloween outfits.
This is my problem with Halloween now. I am too old to trick-or-treat. Which sucks, because when I was in college I would have lived off that candy for the whole month of November and thus had more beer money. I feel like I’ve already grown out of my “slutty girl” phase, and finding an age appropriate costume (that wouldn’t make me blush in front of my parents) is a challenge.
Since “Slutty Girl” Fairy costume, other costumes I’ve had…
Paris Hilton complete with long blonde wig and stuffed dog.
Amy Winehouse and I teased my own hair into a beehive.
Another problem I have with Halloween is planning what to do. When you are little there is nothing else but dressing up and parading around your neighborhood with your siblings or friends. Therefore there really isn’t that much planning except for deciding whose mom will walk with y’all and what side of the street to start on. Slutty phase meant picking a party or going downtown and taking a chance of getting stabbed with dirty needles. (Yeah I live in a sick town…)
Some people really love Halloween and throw parties every year until they die, and I totally wish I knew people like this. Evidently my sister’s in-laws are like this. I’m jealous that every year she has a built in excuse to get dressed up. Lately ever year my friends and I are scrambling to find somewhere to go last minute because we all want to get dressed up. (Well my friends besides Boyfriend because he thinks getting dressed up is stupid which might be his biggest flaw.)
Halloween Costumes I’ve seen that I wish I thought up…
Lego Men. Old Roommate and his buddy did this one year. They went to Cosco and bought giant barrels of Pretzels. They threw the pretzels out and panted the barrels yellow and cut holes for eyes. They then painted the rest of the Lego face. The rest of the costume was just blue jeans and red T-Shirts with Yellow gloves. They looked awesome!
Bob Barker Beauties: LSU Friend, Cupcake, and another one of their friends did this one year. It was so simple. A fun sparkly dress (because who doesn’t want to wear a fun sparkly dress), big teased hair, and a large arrow sign to point to “awesome and fabulous” prizes. You get extra credit if you can get a guy to wear a white wig and carry around a very long, very thin microphone.
Bride from Kill Bill. My sister did this last year and it turned out amazing. All she wore was an old white dress, but she got to have a lot of fun with bloody make up. Oh, and you should be barefoot.
I know it’s not October yet, but I wanted to write this post early to get ideas for costumes and what my friends and I should do this year. Please help us out!
Also, thanks to everyone who is reading. Last week I finally put a counter up and I got almost 300 hits. I’m not sure if this is good or bad in the whole wide world of blogging, but it made me feel pretty great. Also, I wanted to thank you guys who post my link on their Facebook pages or status’ as it then reaches more people I don’t know. (Sister, you are awesome at this!) Don’t forget to follow and leave comments. Again, thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoy this blog as much as I do.
It has been rainy here, and I think it’s the rain that tricks me into thinking it could be cooler outside. Plus, my windows are tinted, so everything looks just a little darker. That’s it. Tinted windows and rainy days are enough to trick my mind into believing it might be 65 outside. But it’s not.
One of my favorite things about fall is Halloween. Growing up I loved Halloween. I loved deciding what costume I would wear trick-or-treating and talking to all my friends about what they would be. I liked going to the Commissary with my mom in buying huge bags of candy for the kids in our neighborhood. Even when I was young enough to trick-or-treat, I still loved watching the other kids and seeing all the fun and creative costumes. Halloween is totally Fashion Week for eight year olds.
Costumes I’ve worn on Halloween…
Rainbow Bright
Bridal Tutu from my ballet recital the year before
Witch
Clown/Jester with cool mask
Cat
What is weird is I can’t remember at all what I dressed up as when we lived in Yorktown, Virginia. I know I must have been something, because I think one year I went trick-or-treating with my friend Jennifer and the other year I must have gone around the neighborhood with Michael Pienkowski, but I can’t for the life of me think about what I would have gone as.
When you get older, Halloween becomes (to quote Mean Girls) “The one night a year a girl can dress as a total slut and no other girls can say anything mean about her”. I did this once for a Halloween party Davis Girl, Old Roommate, and I threw my 2nd year of college. Hosting a bad ass Halloween Party was on my list of Things To Do Before I Turn 25 and I marked it off after that night. Yes, when you get older Halloween pretty much becomes a girl’s “pass night” for dressing like a common whore. There are three main ways girls do this.
How to be a Whore on Halloween and be totally acceptable…
Add Animal Ears. (Again to quote Mean Girls) Gretchen - “What are you suppose to be?” Karen – (pointing to her fake grey ears) “I’m a mouse, duh.” Yes, adding any type of animal ear to your slutty dress or, if you’re really daring, your lingerie makes a great Halloween costume.
Add Wings. The year of my slutty début I went with this option. Slutty black dress, fishnets, high heels, and wings… "look ma I’m a fairy! A slutty fairy, but a fairy…"
Kindergarten Career. Okay no, I’m not trying to be gross or pedophile like. What I mean is if you walk into a Kindergarten class and asked the little boys and girls what they want to be when they grow, whatever they tell you will be a great slutty Halloween costume. Policeman! Nurse! Pirate! (What? You can want to be a pirate when you grow up…) All of these occupations make great slutty Halloween outfits.
This is my problem with Halloween now. I am too old to trick-or-treat. Which sucks, because when I was in college I would have lived off that candy for the whole month of November and thus had more beer money. I feel like I’ve already grown out of my “slutty girl” phase, and finding an age appropriate costume (that wouldn’t make me blush in front of my parents) is a challenge.
Since “Slutty Girl” Fairy costume, other costumes I’ve had…
Paris Hilton complete with long blonde wig and stuffed dog.
Amy Winehouse and I teased my own hair into a beehive.
Another problem I have with Halloween is planning what to do. When you are little there is nothing else but dressing up and parading around your neighborhood with your siblings or friends. Therefore there really isn’t that much planning except for deciding whose mom will walk with y’all and what side of the street to start on. Slutty phase meant picking a party or going downtown and taking a chance of getting stabbed with dirty needles. (Yeah I live in a sick town…)
Some people really love Halloween and throw parties every year until they die, and I totally wish I knew people like this. Evidently my sister’s in-laws are like this. I’m jealous that every year she has a built in excuse to get dressed up. Lately ever year my friends and I are scrambling to find somewhere to go last minute because we all want to get dressed up. (Well my friends besides Boyfriend because he thinks getting dressed up is stupid which might be his biggest flaw.)
Halloween Costumes I’ve seen that I wish I thought up…
Lego Men. Old Roommate and his buddy did this one year. They went to Cosco and bought giant barrels of Pretzels. They threw the pretzels out and panted the barrels yellow and cut holes for eyes. They then painted the rest of the Lego face. The rest of the costume was just blue jeans and red T-Shirts with Yellow gloves. They looked awesome!
Bob Barker Beauties: LSU Friend, Cupcake, and another one of their friends did this one year. It was so simple. A fun sparkly dress (because who doesn’t want to wear a fun sparkly dress), big teased hair, and a large arrow sign to point to “awesome and fabulous” prizes. You get extra credit if you can get a guy to wear a white wig and carry around a very long, very thin microphone.
Bride from Kill Bill. My sister did this last year and it turned out amazing. All she wore was an old white dress, but she got to have a lot of fun with bloody make up. Oh, and you should be barefoot.
I know it’s not October yet, but I wanted to write this post early to get ideas for costumes and what my friends and I should do this year. Please help us out!
Also, thanks to everyone who is reading. Last week I finally put a counter up and I got almost 300 hits. I’m not sure if this is good or bad in the whole wide world of blogging, but it made me feel pretty great. Also, I wanted to thank you guys who post my link on their Facebook pages or status’ as it then reaches more people I don’t know. (Sister, you are awesome at this!) Don’t forget to follow and leave comments. Again, thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoy this blog as much as I do.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Worst, Most Awful, Most Embarrassing Story of My Life...
I know I said this week is Hospital Week, but I’m going to stretch “hospital” to also mean “doctor’s office”.
Okay so you know how I usually state how this is going to be another embarrassing story about myself and then I go on to type a funny little happening that caused me to blush at the time or even put my hand over my eyes and say to myself, “Wow. How awkward and weird can I be?” This is not one of those little funny quips. This is the Granddaddy of all embarrassing stories. This is the Big Enchilada, the Head Honcho, the Story to End All Embarrassing stories. I am pretty sure, like 90%, that I’ve never told this one to anyone. I mean even after drinking three bottles of wine with Davis Girl or downing Purple Margaritas made from Everclear with LSU Friend until they cut us off … still never told this story.
Also, tacos are not involved.
Here goes…
While I was in college I routinely went to the same doctor. I feel like I need to say that I saw her more than once because, just like hair dressers, I usually never go to the same one twice. I don’t know why really. I can get great medical advice or an awesome haircut and still never go back to that person again. I think it has to do with the fact that I am a procrastinator. I usually don’t go to the doctor until I’m convinced I’m about to die from Ebola or I’m about to run out of birth control. Also, I don’t ever get my hair cut until it has been 2 months overdue and I’ve had a crappy week at work and I just got paid. Magically those stars align about every 6 months. Because I wait and put off these appointments I usually spend an hour calling around trying to find some person (doctor or stylist) who can see me that afternoon.
My doctor was a young woman named Dr. Nguyen. I really liked her a lot. Davis Girl recommended me to her after she started seeing Dr. Nguyen about six months before my first visit. Davis Girl liked her because she was young and still really excited about medicine, gross illnesses, and curing people. At this time Davis Girl wanted to be a doctor and Dr. Nguyen helped her get a job as a tech at one of the local hospitals. I liked her because she explained procedures and medication in easy to understand terms, she was quick but I didn’t feel rushed, and she gave me lots of free samples for pills when I was trying to figure out something to help my back pain. (Turns out all I need is a bottle of Vodka and a large hot bath.)
For the Big Enchilada of embarrassing stories, I’m at Dr. Nguyen’s office one afternoon for my yearly pap smear and to renew my birth control. As I’m hanging out in the waiting room Dr. Nguyen’s totally hot boyfriend comes in the front door with her totally adorable dog. He introduces himself to me and then explains to the receptionist and me that he was out running with the dog and he got called into work and doesn’t have time to take him home, so he needs to leave the dog here with Dr. Nguyen. The receptionist says it’s no problem, takes the leash and hot boyfriend leaves.
10 minutes later I’m in the exam room with the tech/nurse lady (the one who takes your temperature and blood pressure) when Dr. Nguyen pokes her head in and asks me if it’s okay if her dog hangs out in my room because one of her partner's patients, who is in the waiting room, is allergic. I say it’s okay. She smiles at me and tell me his name is Ed and that he is very sweet. Dr. Nguyen then says she will be back very shortly once I’ve changed clothes. She and the nurse/tech/assistant person exit the room leaving only Ed and myself.
Being the dog lover that I am, as soon as the door closes I immediately crouch down to play with Ed. He comes rushing over, wagging his tail, and starts licking my hands. I pet him and talk to him and have myself a gay ‘ol time. The receptionist told me Dr. Nguyen and the Hottie rescued him from the shelter and I did see the Town Lake Animal Shelter ID on his collar. I also noticed that his full name was Special Ed, not just Ed.
After playing with the Ed for a few minutes I undressed and put on the soft white robes Dr. Nguyen has for her patients instead of the usual paper gown. (This information is not needed for the story but I always thought it was nice of her to have robes and not paper dresses without backs.) She knocks on the door and I tell her it’s okay for her to come in. When she enters Ed gets up from my side where he was sitting and goes over to her, wagging his tail. Dr. Nguyen pets him for a few minutes and we small talk until she tells the dog to go lay down so she can wash her hands and put on gloves.
We talk for a few minutes about why I’m here and how my back is doing.
Nothing weird happens.
She does a breast exam.
Nothing weird happens.
She has me do some back stretches.
Nothing weird happens.
Then she has me lie on my back so she can press on my stomach and feel my organs or something… I never know why doctors do this. Okay I mean I know it’s to make sure I don’t have giant Spleen tumor or to check to see that my Liver is in fact still there, but there is no point to do this to me because I am so ticklish. You know how three year olds are ticklish. That’s how ticklish I am. I laugh until I cry and sometimes I can’t breathe. Just like a three year old, you can look like you’re about to come across the couch to tickle me and I’ll burst into laughter. Now, I don’t know if you think this is funny or just sad that a 25 year old can’t control herself anymore than a 3 year old, but it’s true. Boyfriend even has strict rules about how and where he can touch me as not to tickle me. I know… weird. Yeah I get it. Back to the story…
Dr. Nguyen: “Okay, now I’m going to check to make sure your Intestines are still inside you.” (Or some other medical talk like that…)
Me: “Sure thing.”
Dr. Nguyen: Press… Press…
Me: (tying to hold it in) "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
This is when my appointment starts to go downhill. Although I can’t see this because I’m laughing up on the exam table, evidently my laughing has caused Ed to get extremely uncomfortable. Over my snickering and giggling I hear him start growling and get up from where he had been laying down all appointment.
Dr. Nguyen: “Ouch!!!! WFT!!!!!”
Me: (sitting up) “What? Are you okay?”
Dr. Nguyen: “I think Ed just bit me…”
Me: “Seriously?”
Yeah, my sweet little Doctor has just been bitten in the leg by her adorable rescue dog because she was tickling me. I quickly start apologizing for making noises like a rabid 3 year old, while Dr. Nguyen starts apologizing for her retarded dog. (Yeah, retarded. There is a reason his full name is Special Ed.) She stops my exam to clean her bloody wound and bandage it. Five minutes later, after a lot of “Wow that was weird” talk, my doctor is ready to finish my appointment. I should mention that she did ask me if I wanted her to put Ed in an empty room for the remaining time of my exam. Poor Ed was trying to hide in the corner, had his tail between his legs, and that look that all dogs get when they know they’ve done something seriously wrong. “Oh. Shit. I’ve seriously messed up. Why did I bite her? Why did I bite her?” You know, that look. I'm a big softy, so of course I said I didn't mind if he stayed. I mean he didn't bite me.
Five minutes later I’ve got my feet in the stirrups and Dr. Nguyen is… um… doing her doctorly thing down there, when I feel something brush by my feet. (Okay Time Out. Remember how I said I’m like a 3 year old when it comes to being ticklish and I giggled and laughed out loud when my doctor tried to do her job by seeing if my insides were in fact where they should be. Well, I’m like a three year old on crack when it comes to people touching or messing with my feet. I explode. I can’t help it. Something inside of me snaps and I can’t keep it together. Okay Time In.) Something just brushed against my foot. Then that something, which I can tell is very furry, stops under my foot and move his head back and forth causing his head hairs to tickle my feet. I can’t hold it in even though my doctor has her F-ing fingers inside me!!!
Me: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But I don’t just laugh. Oh God, if only I just laughed I could have said at the beginning of this post that this is just another tail of me being my awkward, weird self. But this is the story to top all stories, so no, I don’t just laugh. The dog’s fur makes me laugh so much that my foot spasms and jumps out of the stirrup and I knee my doctor in the face which causes her nose to start bleeding which causes her dog to freak out and start barking wildly.
(Yeah, go ahead and read that sentence again. I’ll wait.)
Fuck my life.
If you are waiting for a cute end to this story, there isn’t one. If there is an upside to this story, a very small upside, it is that Dr. Nguyen was done with my exam so I didn’t have to wait for her to stop her bloody nose and control her dog to finish my appointment. She left to tend to her nose, I got dressed in record time, and was out of there ASAP. I did have to go back the next day to get my new birth control prescription that I hadn’t waited around for the day before (because there was no way I was going through that ordeal and not getting anything out of it). Dr. Nguyen had left it at the counter and the receptionist practically threw it at me when I asked for it.
And I’ve never been back since.
And that just might be the worst, most awful, most embarrassing story of my life.
Okay so you know how I usually state how this is going to be another embarrassing story about myself and then I go on to type a funny little happening that caused me to blush at the time or even put my hand over my eyes and say to myself, “Wow. How awkward and weird can I be?” This is not one of those little funny quips. This is the Granddaddy of all embarrassing stories. This is the Big Enchilada, the Head Honcho, the Story to End All Embarrassing stories. I am pretty sure, like 90%, that I’ve never told this one to anyone. I mean even after drinking three bottles of wine with Davis Girl or downing Purple Margaritas made from Everclear with LSU Friend until they cut us off … still never told this story.
Also, tacos are not involved.
Here goes…
While I was in college I routinely went to the same doctor. I feel like I need to say that I saw her more than once because, just like hair dressers, I usually never go to the same one twice. I don’t know why really. I can get great medical advice or an awesome haircut and still never go back to that person again. I think it has to do with the fact that I am a procrastinator. I usually don’t go to the doctor until I’m convinced I’m about to die from Ebola or I’m about to run out of birth control. Also, I don’t ever get my hair cut until it has been 2 months overdue and I’ve had a crappy week at work and I just got paid. Magically those stars align about every 6 months. Because I wait and put off these appointments I usually spend an hour calling around trying to find some person (doctor or stylist) who can see me that afternoon.
My doctor was a young woman named Dr. Nguyen. I really liked her a lot. Davis Girl recommended me to her after she started seeing Dr. Nguyen about six months before my first visit. Davis Girl liked her because she was young and still really excited about medicine, gross illnesses, and curing people. At this time Davis Girl wanted to be a doctor and Dr. Nguyen helped her get a job as a tech at one of the local hospitals. I liked her because she explained procedures and medication in easy to understand terms, she was quick but I didn’t feel rushed, and she gave me lots of free samples for pills when I was trying to figure out something to help my back pain. (Turns out all I need is a bottle of Vodka and a large hot bath.)
For the Big Enchilada of embarrassing stories, I’m at Dr. Nguyen’s office one afternoon for my yearly pap smear and to renew my birth control. As I’m hanging out in the waiting room Dr. Nguyen’s totally hot boyfriend comes in the front door with her totally adorable dog. He introduces himself to me and then explains to the receptionist and me that he was out running with the dog and he got called into work and doesn’t have time to take him home, so he needs to leave the dog here with Dr. Nguyen. The receptionist says it’s no problem, takes the leash and hot boyfriend leaves.
10 minutes later I’m in the exam room with the tech/nurse lady (the one who takes your temperature and blood pressure) when Dr. Nguyen pokes her head in and asks me if it’s okay if her dog hangs out in my room because one of her partner's patients, who is in the waiting room, is allergic. I say it’s okay. She smiles at me and tell me his name is Ed and that he is very sweet. Dr. Nguyen then says she will be back very shortly once I’ve changed clothes. She and the nurse/tech/assistant person exit the room leaving only Ed and myself.
Being the dog lover that I am, as soon as the door closes I immediately crouch down to play with Ed. He comes rushing over, wagging his tail, and starts licking my hands. I pet him and talk to him and have myself a gay ‘ol time. The receptionist told me Dr. Nguyen and the Hottie rescued him from the shelter and I did see the Town Lake Animal Shelter ID on his collar. I also noticed that his full name was Special Ed, not just Ed.
After playing with the Ed for a few minutes I undressed and put on the soft white robes Dr. Nguyen has for her patients instead of the usual paper gown. (This information is not needed for the story but I always thought it was nice of her to have robes and not paper dresses without backs.) She knocks on the door and I tell her it’s okay for her to come in. When she enters Ed gets up from my side where he was sitting and goes over to her, wagging his tail. Dr. Nguyen pets him for a few minutes and we small talk until she tells the dog to go lay down so she can wash her hands and put on gloves.
We talk for a few minutes about why I’m here and how my back is doing.
Nothing weird happens.
She does a breast exam.
Nothing weird happens.
She has me do some back stretches.
Nothing weird happens.
Then she has me lie on my back so she can press on my stomach and feel my organs or something… I never know why doctors do this. Okay I mean I know it’s to make sure I don’t have giant Spleen tumor or to check to see that my Liver is in fact still there, but there is no point to do this to me because I am so ticklish. You know how three year olds are ticklish. That’s how ticklish I am. I laugh until I cry and sometimes I can’t breathe. Just like a three year old, you can look like you’re about to come across the couch to tickle me and I’ll burst into laughter. Now, I don’t know if you think this is funny or just sad that a 25 year old can’t control herself anymore than a 3 year old, but it’s true. Boyfriend even has strict rules about how and where he can touch me as not to tickle me. I know… weird. Yeah I get it. Back to the story…
Dr. Nguyen: “Okay, now I’m going to check to make sure your Intestines are still inside you.” (Or some other medical talk like that…)
Me: “Sure thing.”
Dr. Nguyen: Press… Press…
Me: (tying to hold it in) "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
This is when my appointment starts to go downhill. Although I can’t see this because I’m laughing up on the exam table, evidently my laughing has caused Ed to get extremely uncomfortable. Over my snickering and giggling I hear him start growling and get up from where he had been laying down all appointment.
Dr. Nguyen: “Ouch!!!! WFT!!!!!”
Me: (sitting up) “What? Are you okay?”
Dr. Nguyen: “I think Ed just bit me…”
Me: “Seriously?”
Yeah, my sweet little Doctor has just been bitten in the leg by her adorable rescue dog because she was tickling me. I quickly start apologizing for making noises like a rabid 3 year old, while Dr. Nguyen starts apologizing for her retarded dog. (Yeah, retarded. There is a reason his full name is Special Ed.) She stops my exam to clean her bloody wound and bandage it. Five minutes later, after a lot of “Wow that was weird” talk, my doctor is ready to finish my appointment. I should mention that she did ask me if I wanted her to put Ed in an empty room for the remaining time of my exam. Poor Ed was trying to hide in the corner, had his tail between his legs, and that look that all dogs get when they know they’ve done something seriously wrong. “Oh. Shit. I’ve seriously messed up. Why did I bite her? Why did I bite her?” You know, that look. I'm a big softy, so of course I said I didn't mind if he stayed. I mean he didn't bite me.
Five minutes later I’ve got my feet in the stirrups and Dr. Nguyen is… um… doing her doctorly thing down there, when I feel something brush by my feet. (Okay Time Out. Remember how I said I’m like a 3 year old when it comes to being ticklish and I giggled and laughed out loud when my doctor tried to do her job by seeing if my insides were in fact where they should be. Well, I’m like a three year old on crack when it comes to people touching or messing with my feet. I explode. I can’t help it. Something inside of me snaps and I can’t keep it together. Okay Time In.) Something just brushed against my foot. Then that something, which I can tell is very furry, stops under my foot and move his head back and forth causing his head hairs to tickle my feet. I can’t hold it in even though my doctor has her F-ing fingers inside me!!!
Me: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But I don’t just laugh. Oh God, if only I just laughed I could have said at the beginning of this post that this is just another tail of me being my awkward, weird self. But this is the story to top all stories, so no, I don’t just laugh. The dog’s fur makes me laugh so much that my foot spasms and jumps out of the stirrup and I knee my doctor in the face which causes her nose to start bleeding which causes her dog to freak out and start barking wildly.
(Yeah, go ahead and read that sentence again. I’ll wait.)
Fuck my life.
If you are waiting for a cute end to this story, there isn’t one. If there is an upside to this story, a very small upside, it is that Dr. Nguyen was done with my exam so I didn’t have to wait for her to stop her bloody nose and control her dog to finish my appointment. She left to tend to her nose, I got dressed in record time, and was out of there ASAP. I did have to go back the next day to get my new birth control prescription that I hadn’t waited around for the day before (because there was no way I was going through that ordeal and not getting anything out of it). Dr. Nguyen had left it at the counter and the receptionist practically threw it at me when I asked for it.
And I’ve never been back since.
And that just might be the worst, most awful, most embarrassing story of my life.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
When I Broke My Foot at the Happiest Place on Earth (No Not Disney World)... Okay the 2nd Happiest Place on Earth...
I’ve decided that after yesterday’s post this week will be all about hospitals. Won’t that be fun? Trust me I won’t write about the one time I almost could have maybe died Sophomore year of college because I had Meningitis (viral not the killer bacteria) and the school clinic I went to on Saturday morning told me I had the flu when really I could have been dying with Meningitis (because no one knew that I didn’t have the killer bacterial kind.) Then when I almost (maybe sorta) died Saturday night I had to make my Ex-Boyfriend (yeah the one with the snakes) take me to the hospital. Then four hours later when my parents arrived from San Antonio evidently my father took Ex-Boyfriend aside and was all, “Thank you for saving our daughters life. We are lucky she has you.” WFT!!! Ex-boyfriend told me that two weeks later and I only nodded but deep down I couldn’t believe he had taken this complement from my sweet, trusting father when he did nothing but drive me .3 miles to the hospital after I called him to help me save my own life!!! See that story isn’t really funny, so I won’t go into it.
But the time I broke my foot at Shlitterbahn… hilarious!
First things first. For you reader who have never been or never heard of Schlitterbahn let me explain to you the awesomeness that is the “hottest, coolest time in Texas”. Schlitterbahn is a family owned water park in New Braunfels, Texas. It has on numerous occasions been voted the best family water park in this country. (Yeah, it’s that good.) The original side of the park, it has two sides now, uses only water pumped from the Comal River. The water is used, sans chemicals, then dumped back into the river. One of the greatest things about Schlitterbahn is when you buy an admissions ticket you can then bring in as many coolers and as much food as you want. This means that after five hours of water slides, wave pools, and water-coasters you don’t have to pay 12 dollars for a turkey leg. Oh, and central Texas has a large German community, hence Schlitterbahn or “slippery road”.
So pretty much in an area where the nearest beach is at least a four hour drive, Schlitterbahn is the greatest thing ever in the 100+ degree Texas summer heat. Davis Girl, Boy Roommate, Old AT Co-Worker, and I decided to go on a Monday to avoid some of the crazy lines and annoying families. It was a great day. We rode lots of rides and slid down lots of slides. At about 3, Davis Girl reminded us that she needed to go back to where we parked our cooler and re apply sunscreen because she is all white and transparent. At this point we were on the other side of the park and it would take us about 20 minutes or so to get back to Camp Cooler. I don’t think any of us wanted to go, but we all took one for the team and decided to walk back with Davis Girl. After all no one wants a friend with skin cancer. So we walked all of twenty steps until we get distracted by this…
Han’s Hideout.
This is pretty much the kiddy pirate ship ride of the park. It’s made to be climbed on by seven year olds, so of course we thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. There were different levels and platforms and each had buckets of water to dump on people and guns to shot water at people. Again, awesome. Then at the very top of the ship there were two slides, side by side, to race your friend to the bottom… you’re seven year old friend.
So, we get to the top and Davis Girl and Old AT Co-Worker pick a slide and race each other to the bottom. Once they are on their way, Boy Roommate and I step into place to take our turns. Now, everyone who has ever been to a water park knows that you have to wait for the employee at the top of the slide to give you okay to start your own wild ride to the bottom. I step up into “next rider position”, and immediately turn to the fifteen year old in the red tank top to give me the okay to slide. He looks me in the eye and… yes this happened… winks. Now I’m all hopped up on adrenalin, all excited to beat Boy Roommate down the slide, and I take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. Go ahead and slide down this awesome pirate ship water slide, and while you’re at it, beat this dude to your left. You can take him. Go for it.” So I go. Evidently I was suppose to take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. You’re a little hottie. I know you are probably at least five years older than me and some people might call you a statutory rapist, but I think you and me could have a little something, something going on. Oh, and you shouldn’t go down the slide yet.” So I’m going down the slide. I’m having the time of my life… well not so much. I mean it’s a cool slide and all, but it was designed for seven year olds. Anyways, 10 seconds later I round the last turn in the slide and BAM!!!! I run right into Old AT Co-Worker’s head. Actually my left foot runs right into Old AT Co-Workers head. Like this…
Now I was not expecting to slide into my friend’s noggin so my first thoughts and reactions were of complete shock and bewilderment. I mean I was having fun, sliding down the water slide, and then POW Old AT Co-Workers head. Something didn’t add up. Very quickly the lifeguard at the bottom of the pirate ship was all up in my personal space asking me why the heck I was running into the nice young man who was sliding before me. Honest to God the first thought that ran through my head was, “Wow I’m really fast. I totally beat Boy Roommate down the slide.” Then I hear shouting coming from the employee at the top of the ship, “Why did you go? I didn’t tell you to go!”
Davis Girl: “Wow Lemon Lady you can’t just go whenever you want to go.”
Boy Roommate: “Dude, cheating doesn’t count. You didn’t beat me.”
Old AT Co-Worker: “My head is fine, but really you should have waited till the guy said you could go.”
Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Ma’am you must wait to be signaled to ride our rides.”
Me: “The guy totally gave me the okay!!! We can go ask him.”
As I am finishing this last sentence I try to stand up.
Me: “OOOAAACCHHHH!!!!”
Then I looked down and saw this…
Yeah, in the 45 seconds we had all been arguing about whether I had the right away to slide down the pirate ship of death a golf ball sized lump had appeared on my foot and I couldn’t put any weight on it.
Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Oh, man. Do you think it’s broken?”
Me: “It hurts…”
Davis Girl: “We need to get you to first aid.”
Me: “What the F is under my skin???”
Boy Roommate then picks me up and carries me in his arms across the park to the first aid station with mothers giving me the evil eye and whispering to their children, “See that’s what happens to you when you don’t follow the rules.”
The people at the first aid station then force me to sign a paper saying I won’t sue their asses before they would give me an ice pack for my foot. Then they put me in a wheelchair and made me sit out in front of the park why everyone else in my party goes and fetched the coolers and cars. I sat there for almost thirty minutes why eighth graders talked about the “poor, pathetic girl in the wheelchair” and “Why would anyone in a wheelchair want to spend the day at a water park.” I hate kids.
After spending thirty minutes driving around looking for an open clinic in New Braunfels, we decided to just drive back home to Austin. We ended up in the same Emergency Room I had been to eight months prior when I had Meningitis. Except this time I really wasn’t dying so I got to wait four hours to see a doctor. Surprisingly, I was in a very good mode (and this was even before the doctor gave me Vicodin). This tragic accident had happened in the afternoon, so we had practically had a full day at Schlitterbahn, Davis Girl had came and went with food for herself so she wasn’t a crazy bitch (you know those people who can’t function without a high blood sugar level) and we got to have wheelchair races in the hospital hallways.
Then I found out my foot was broken, and it would remain broken for the rest of summer. FU Schlitterbahn and the evil German family that invented you.
But the time I broke my foot at Shlitterbahn… hilarious!
First things first. For you reader who have never been or never heard of Schlitterbahn let me explain to you the awesomeness that is the “hottest, coolest time in Texas”. Schlitterbahn is a family owned water park in New Braunfels, Texas. It has on numerous occasions been voted the best family water park in this country. (Yeah, it’s that good.) The original side of the park, it has two sides now, uses only water pumped from the Comal River. The water is used, sans chemicals, then dumped back into the river. One of the greatest things about Schlitterbahn is when you buy an admissions ticket you can then bring in as many coolers and as much food as you want. This means that after five hours of water slides, wave pools, and water-coasters you don’t have to pay 12 dollars for a turkey leg. Oh, and central Texas has a large German community, hence Schlitterbahn or “slippery road”.
So pretty much in an area where the nearest beach is at least a four hour drive, Schlitterbahn is the greatest thing ever in the 100+ degree Texas summer heat. Davis Girl, Boy Roommate, Old AT Co-Worker, and I decided to go on a Monday to avoid some of the crazy lines and annoying families. It was a great day. We rode lots of rides and slid down lots of slides. At about 3, Davis Girl reminded us that she needed to go back to where we parked our cooler and re apply sunscreen because she is all white and transparent. At this point we were on the other side of the park and it would take us about 20 minutes or so to get back to Camp Cooler. I don’t think any of us wanted to go, but we all took one for the team and decided to walk back with Davis Girl. After all no one wants a friend with skin cancer. So we walked all of twenty steps until we get distracted by this…
Han’s Hideout.
This is pretty much the kiddy pirate ship ride of the park. It’s made to be climbed on by seven year olds, so of course we thought it was the coolest thing since sliced bread. There were different levels and platforms and each had buckets of water to dump on people and guns to shot water at people. Again, awesome. Then at the very top of the ship there were two slides, side by side, to race your friend to the bottom… you’re seven year old friend.
So, we get to the top and Davis Girl and Old AT Co-Worker pick a slide and race each other to the bottom. Once they are on their way, Boy Roommate and I step into place to take our turns. Now, everyone who has ever been to a water park knows that you have to wait for the employee at the top of the slide to give you okay to start your own wild ride to the bottom. I step up into “next rider position”, and immediately turn to the fifteen year old in the red tank top to give me the okay to slide. He looks me in the eye and… yes this happened… winks. Now I’m all hopped up on adrenalin, all excited to beat Boy Roommate down the slide, and I take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. Go ahead and slide down this awesome pirate ship water slide, and while you’re at it, beat this dude to your left. You can take him. Go for it.” So I go. Evidently I was suppose to take this wink as, “Hey, Girl. You’re a little hottie. I know you are probably at least five years older than me and some people might call you a statutory rapist, but I think you and me could have a little something, something going on. Oh, and you shouldn’t go down the slide yet.” So I’m going down the slide. I’m having the time of my life… well not so much. I mean it’s a cool slide and all, but it was designed for seven year olds. Anyways, 10 seconds later I round the last turn in the slide and BAM!!!! I run right into Old AT Co-Worker’s head. Actually my left foot runs right into Old AT Co-Workers head. Like this…
Now I was not expecting to slide into my friend’s noggin so my first thoughts and reactions were of complete shock and bewilderment. I mean I was having fun, sliding down the water slide, and then POW Old AT Co-Workers head. Something didn’t add up. Very quickly the lifeguard at the bottom of the pirate ship was all up in my personal space asking me why the heck I was running into the nice young man who was sliding before me. Honest to God the first thought that ran through my head was, “Wow I’m really fast. I totally beat Boy Roommate down the slide.” Then I hear shouting coming from the employee at the top of the ship, “Why did you go? I didn’t tell you to go!”
Davis Girl: “Wow Lemon Lady you can’t just go whenever you want to go.”
Boy Roommate: “Dude, cheating doesn’t count. You didn’t beat me.”
Old AT Co-Worker: “My head is fine, but really you should have waited till the guy said you could go.”
Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Ma’am you must wait to be signaled to ride our rides.”
Me: “The guy totally gave me the okay!!! We can go ask him.”
As I am finishing this last sentence I try to stand up.
Me: “OOOAAACCHHHH!!!!”
Then I looked down and saw this…
Yeah, in the 45 seconds we had all been arguing about whether I had the right away to slide down the pirate ship of death a golf ball sized lump had appeared on my foot and I couldn’t put any weight on it.
Lifeguard at the Bottom: “Oh, man. Do you think it’s broken?”
Me: “It hurts…”
Davis Girl: “We need to get you to first aid.”
Me: “What the F is under my skin???”
Boy Roommate then picks me up and carries me in his arms across the park to the first aid station with mothers giving me the evil eye and whispering to their children, “See that’s what happens to you when you don’t follow the rules.”
The people at the first aid station then force me to sign a paper saying I won’t sue their asses before they would give me an ice pack for my foot. Then they put me in a wheelchair and made me sit out in front of the park why everyone else in my party goes and fetched the coolers and cars. I sat there for almost thirty minutes why eighth graders talked about the “poor, pathetic girl in the wheelchair” and “Why would anyone in a wheelchair want to spend the day at a water park.” I hate kids.
After spending thirty minutes driving around looking for an open clinic in New Braunfels, we decided to just drive back home to Austin. We ended up in the same Emergency Room I had been to eight months prior when I had Meningitis. Except this time I really wasn’t dying so I got to wait four hours to see a doctor. Surprisingly, I was in a very good mode (and this was even before the doctor gave me Vicodin). This tragic accident had happened in the afternoon, so we had practically had a full day at Schlitterbahn, Davis Girl had came and went with food for herself so she wasn’t a crazy bitch (you know those people who can’t function without a high blood sugar level) and we got to have wheelchair races in the hospital hallways.
Then I found out my foot was broken, and it would remain broken for the rest of summer. FU Schlitterbahn and the evil German family that invented you.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
If I Write an Embarrassing Story About You, It's Because I Love You...
Best Friend’s wedding was amazing! The Bachelorette Party was fun, silly, and exactly what Best Friend wanted her night with her closest friends and family to be. The Rehearsal Dinner had great food and even better company as friends met family and one family met another family. I cried the entire time during the actual ceremony. My best friend could not have looked more beautiful. My favorite part was when her father sang Avi Maria while she and her new husband placed roses at the feet of the Virgin. I love all of Best Friend’s family and her father has always been a second father to me, reminding me to say “sir” and “ma’am”, being proud of my accomplishments, and chastising me when I’ve made mistakes. I met Best Friend when her father worked two, sometimes three, jobs to give her and her siblings everything they wanted and deserved. They have an amazing relationship of respect and love and I know him singing from the choir of the gorgeous Catholic Cathedral they were married in is something she will never forget... And the reception… pretty much the greatest party ever!!! It was complete with funny toasts, yummy food, amazing cakes, awesome wedding band, and dancing all night long. Thanks to Best Friend and Best Friend’s Husband for allowing me to be a part of their special day.
All of the wedding events allowed me to spend time with friends I don’t always get to see and meet new friends who I hope to get to know even more. I can’t tell you how awesome it was to hear from so many of you that you are reading my blog and that you like it. Seriously, it totally makes my day. I work a job that has zero creative factors, and the hour or two I spend writing just lets me open that other side of my brain. Again, thank y’all so much.
And the stories… just hanging around new people and friends from the past brought up so many stories I need to turn into blog posts. So many embarrassing nights and hilarious events, so many stories to post in cyber space so I will never forget how weird and awkward I am and what great friends I have.
And now, one of those stories...
Besides Best Friend, who I have known since seventh grade, Davis Girl definitely knows me the best. Although we went to High School together (for our freshmen year and our senior year) we didn’t really become close friends until we lived together for three years in college. I’m pretty sure when you live with someone in your early twenties you either become lifelong friends or you that person ends up on your shit list. Davis Girl, narrowly escaped the shit list route because we moved out into our own places just as it was becoming way too hard to keep living with someone so anal and a little OCD. (My side of the story… Davis Girl will have to start her own blog if she wants people to hear about my awful hygiene habits.)
One time in college our other roommate and I convinced Davis Girl to take her top of in the car driving to get tacos at 2 in the morning. Since she was 21 and drunk, of course she was all for it. So here is the scene… Boy roommate’s bright blue late nineties mustang, Davis Girl is in the front passenger seat and I’m sitting behind her in the back. Sober Boy Roommate is driving. Things that had already happened this night… Davis Girl wore her science lab goggles for a good while at the bar. It was definitely a Toodies kind of night. (You know those nights you can’t hear Possum Kingdom enough… well we had those nights and this was one of them) Oh, and then she danced on a bar… but she did that a lot so it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Anyway we are driving maybe three miles down the road and Boy Roommate and I convince Davis Girl it would be so hilarious if she took her shirt off and rode to the taco stand topless. (Yeah, I know we are just too funny.) Davis Girl, or Davis Girl’s Tequila Aided Mind decided this was a good idea, so off came her top. Now we’re on a side street about .75 miles from our house, Boy Roommate cranking up the tunes, Davis Girl laughing in her nakedness, and me… just along for the ride and yummy trailer food when all the sudden I hear a siren over Bob Schneider and see flashing lights when I turn around. Yup, we are being pulled over. I start cracking up. Really this situation was too much for my alcohol having brain. I could not stop laughing because for the first time in my life… at least the first time I could remember, something embarrassing was happening to someone other than me and I wouldn't even be the one getting a ticket. I wasn’t too worried for Old Roommate because A: he really wasn’t drunk (I promise I’m not just typing that because my parents might read this) and B: we were on a small side road. I mean how much over the speed limit can you really go down a road with speed bumps at 2 AM?
As soon as Davis Girl’s drunk face realizes what it happening she panics!!! (Okay stop. Time out. I think I need to explain the shirt she decided to wear that night because God totally loves me. I actually help Davis Girl pick it out from Ann Taylor where I worked at the time. I think the fact that the shirt was from The AT makes this story even better. It was bright teal and had spaghetti straps. Not two straps. Not four straps. Not six straps. But eight mother f-ing spaghetti straps!!! Four straps started on each side of the shoulder and crisscrossed in the back creating a virtual web of confusion. Seriously, when she wore it I half expected “Some Pig” to be written across her back. These death trap straps plus the built in shelf bra made a Bachelor Degree required to figure out how to put this ridiculous piece of fashion on. Okay. Time in.) Davis Girl goes from giggling about her situation to full on panic mode in about 3.1 seconds. Just long enough to look down at her naked tatas and realise that being topless when the cop gets to the car might... maybe... could sorta... be a bad thing.
3.1 seconds later...
Davis Girl: "Help. Shit. Help. Wait. Cop. Shit. Cop. Help."
Boy Roommate: "Dude, put your shirt back on right now!!!"
Me: "Hahahahahaha. Oh Davis Girl... your shirt. You've got to cover those glorious boobies..."
Davis Girl: "I'm trying..."
The thing is I was cracking up in the back seat, but Davis Girl was really trying to put on that evil shirt of death. She couldn't help it that she was trashed and she didn't have a Bachelor of Arts in Obnoxious Shirt Wearing. At this point the cop has pulled over and parked behind us on the side of the road...
Boy Roommate: "Davis Girl I swear to God you are going to get me a ticket. Put on your fucking shirt!!!"
Davis Girl: "I'm trying..."
Me: "Here let me help you." (Because two drunk people trying to dress someone in the Impossible Rubik's Cube tank top is totally going to make the process easier.)
6 seconds later...
Boy Roommate: "You have 2 second before I have to roll down this window and talk to a law enforcer and I'm not going to jail because you can't dress yourself the way every 5 year old does every morning."
Davis Girl: "I got it... I got it..." (yeah... she didn't)
The cop came to Boy Roommates window, leaned in and this is what he saw...
I have to give it to her, one side of the shirt was almost put on correctly. The other side however... not so much. Straps were going everywhere and her arm was stuck in one of them so she had to hold her arm up or have that side of the top fall down completely. So the entire time the cop was at Boy Roommate's rolled down window Davis Girl is trying extremely hard to play off the fact that she can't put her arm down by leaning against the window. Yeah... the cop's first question, "Sir, Have you been drinking???"
Boy Roommate: "I swear I haven't, but I can't speak for these two."
Me: (snickersnicker...gigglegiggle)
Davis Girl: (headrub)
The cop was probably at the window for about five minutes. I think he thought it was just as funny. It turned out that Boy Roommate didn't have his lights on fully, but on the fog setting, so the cop just wanted to let him know to turn them up. Right before he was about to get back into his squad car and leave our lives forever, he leaned froward to speak to Davis Girl...
Cop: "Ma'am you really need to put your seat belt on."
Me: "Hahahahahah"
Davis Girl: "Um... Ah... Yes Sir?"
(Now go back a look at the picture. Her right arm and hand are the ones right next to the seat belt, but she can't move those or her top will fall down and the cop will get an eye full of Davis Girl Lady Parts.) Davis Girl then spends the next few seconds trying to reach over her body to find the seat belt that is behind her arm she can't move. OMG Hilarious!!! The cop just chuckled to himself and walked away.
By the way: I swear my life doesn't revolve around tacos.
Second by the way: I have removed the older post about Boyfriend's weird stomach as he let me know the world doesn't need to know about his digestive system. To Boyfriend: I'm very sorry to put your tummy woes on the web and I apologise. Love you."
All of the wedding events allowed me to spend time with friends I don’t always get to see and meet new friends who I hope to get to know even more. I can’t tell you how awesome it was to hear from so many of you that you are reading my blog and that you like it. Seriously, it totally makes my day. I work a job that has zero creative factors, and the hour or two I spend writing just lets me open that other side of my brain. Again, thank y’all so much.
And the stories… just hanging around new people and friends from the past brought up so many stories I need to turn into blog posts. So many embarrassing nights and hilarious events, so many stories to post in cyber space so I will never forget how weird and awkward I am and what great friends I have.
And now, one of those stories...
Besides Best Friend, who I have known since seventh grade, Davis Girl definitely knows me the best. Although we went to High School together (for our freshmen year and our senior year) we didn’t really become close friends until we lived together for three years in college. I’m pretty sure when you live with someone in your early twenties you either become lifelong friends or you that person ends up on your shit list. Davis Girl, narrowly escaped the shit list route because we moved out into our own places just as it was becoming way too hard to keep living with someone so anal and a little OCD. (My side of the story… Davis Girl will have to start her own blog if she wants people to hear about my awful hygiene habits.)
One time in college our other roommate and I convinced Davis Girl to take her top of in the car driving to get tacos at 2 in the morning. Since she was 21 and drunk, of course she was all for it. So here is the scene… Boy roommate’s bright blue late nineties mustang, Davis Girl is in the front passenger seat and I’m sitting behind her in the back. Sober Boy Roommate is driving. Things that had already happened this night… Davis Girl wore her science lab goggles for a good while at the bar. It was definitely a Toodies kind of night. (You know those nights you can’t hear Possum Kingdom enough… well we had those nights and this was one of them) Oh, and then she danced on a bar… but she did that a lot so it wasn’t that big of a deal.
Anyway we are driving maybe three miles down the road and Boy Roommate and I convince Davis Girl it would be so hilarious if she took her shirt off and rode to the taco stand topless. (Yeah, I know we are just too funny.) Davis Girl, or Davis Girl’s Tequila Aided Mind decided this was a good idea, so off came her top. Now we’re on a side street about .75 miles from our house, Boy Roommate cranking up the tunes, Davis Girl laughing in her nakedness, and me… just along for the ride and yummy trailer food when all the sudden I hear a siren over Bob Schneider and see flashing lights when I turn around. Yup, we are being pulled over. I start cracking up. Really this situation was too much for my alcohol having brain. I could not stop laughing because for the first time in my life… at least the first time I could remember, something embarrassing was happening to someone other than me and I wouldn't even be the one getting a ticket. I wasn’t too worried for Old Roommate because A: he really wasn’t drunk (I promise I’m not just typing that because my parents might read this) and B: we were on a small side road. I mean how much over the speed limit can you really go down a road with speed bumps at 2 AM?
As soon as Davis Girl’s drunk face realizes what it happening she panics!!! (Okay stop. Time out. I think I need to explain the shirt she decided to wear that night because God totally loves me. I actually help Davis Girl pick it out from Ann Taylor where I worked at the time. I think the fact that the shirt was from The AT makes this story even better. It was bright teal and had spaghetti straps. Not two straps. Not four straps. Not six straps. But eight mother f-ing spaghetti straps!!! Four straps started on each side of the shoulder and crisscrossed in the back creating a virtual web of confusion. Seriously, when she wore it I half expected “Some Pig” to be written across her back. These death trap straps plus the built in shelf bra made a Bachelor Degree required to figure out how to put this ridiculous piece of fashion on. Okay. Time in.) Davis Girl goes from giggling about her situation to full on panic mode in about 3.1 seconds. Just long enough to look down at her naked tatas and realise that being topless when the cop gets to the car might... maybe... could sorta... be a bad thing.
3.1 seconds later...
Davis Girl: "Help. Shit. Help. Wait. Cop. Shit. Cop. Help."
Boy Roommate: "Dude, put your shirt back on right now!!!"
Me: "Hahahahahaha. Oh Davis Girl... your shirt. You've got to cover those glorious boobies..."
Davis Girl: "I'm trying..."
The thing is I was cracking up in the back seat, but Davis Girl was really trying to put on that evil shirt of death. She couldn't help it that she was trashed and she didn't have a Bachelor of Arts in Obnoxious Shirt Wearing. At this point the cop has pulled over and parked behind us on the side of the road...
Boy Roommate: "Davis Girl I swear to God you are going to get me a ticket. Put on your fucking shirt!!!"
Davis Girl: "I'm trying..."
Me: "Here let me help you." (Because two drunk people trying to dress someone in the Impossible Rubik's Cube tank top is totally going to make the process easier.)
6 seconds later...
Boy Roommate: "You have 2 second before I have to roll down this window and talk to a law enforcer and I'm not going to jail because you can't dress yourself the way every 5 year old does every morning."
Davis Girl: "I got it... I got it..." (yeah... she didn't)
The cop came to Boy Roommates window, leaned in and this is what he saw...
I have to give it to her, one side of the shirt was almost put on correctly. The other side however... not so much. Straps were going everywhere and her arm was stuck in one of them so she had to hold her arm up or have that side of the top fall down completely. So the entire time the cop was at Boy Roommate's rolled down window Davis Girl is trying extremely hard to play off the fact that she can't put her arm down by leaning against the window. Yeah... the cop's first question, "Sir, Have you been drinking???"
Boy Roommate: "I swear I haven't, but I can't speak for these two."
Me: (snickersnicker...gigglegiggle)
Davis Girl: (headrub)
The cop was probably at the window for about five minutes. I think he thought it was just as funny. It turned out that Boy Roommate didn't have his lights on fully, but on the fog setting, so the cop just wanted to let him know to turn them up. Right before he was about to get back into his squad car and leave our lives forever, he leaned froward to speak to Davis Girl...
Cop: "Ma'am you really need to put your seat belt on."
Me: "Hahahahahah"
Davis Girl: "Um... Ah... Yes Sir?"
(Now go back a look at the picture. Her right arm and hand are the ones right next to the seat belt, but she can't move those or her top will fall down and the cop will get an eye full of Davis Girl Lady Parts.) Davis Girl then spends the next few seconds trying to reach over her body to find the seat belt that is behind her arm she can't move. OMG Hilarious!!! The cop just chuckled to himself and walked away.
By the way: I swear my life doesn't revolve around tacos.
Second by the way: I have removed the older post about Boyfriend's weird stomach as he let me know the world doesn't need to know about his digestive system. To Boyfriend: I'm very sorry to put your tummy woes on the web and I apologise. Love you."
Monday, August 2, 2010
True story in which Boyfriend tries (unsuccessfully) to defend my honor...
One quick thing before today’s post… Hi Mom and Dad. Evidently my parents have been reading this blog secretly. Now, I have no problem with my parents enjoying embarrassing stories about myself, or laughing out loud wondering how they every produced me. But secretly laughing at me??? WFT Mom and Dad. I know I’m not the golden child that calls home EVERY SINGLE DAY (yeah… that’s the type of older sister I have), but we talk on a pretty regular basis, and Dad even has a Facebook account. Make yourself known and bring it up in conversation, or leave a note on my wall, or FOLLOW MY BLOG AND COMMENT!!! Let’s see some support from the parental units.
Boyfriend and I drove down to San Antonio this past weekend to spend some time with my parents. They built a beautiful new pool this summer and Saturday was spent floating, playing Horse with a volleyball because the basketball wouldn’t inflate properly, and just lounging in the sun. It was perfect. That night Mom, Boyfriend, and I were chatting in the living room before bed and Boyfriend brought up this story. I immediately started cracking up because I had forgotten all about it, and knew I had to blog about it on Monday. So here you all are… The Time Boyfriend Stood Up For My Honor And Almost Got Beat Up.
Last summer one night Davis Girl and I decided to meet for a drink in the evening. We meet at The Tavern for a few beers and good girl chat. Being the first person there I found a table for two on the second story deck. It was one of the nicer evening last summer (meaning it wasn’t 110 degrees but maybe only 98. 98 plus misters plus cold beer… very cool evening in Austin.) and I went ahead and ordered a picture of beer and two waters. Davis Girl showed up a few minutes later and we quickly fell into our normal routine of storytelling, bitching about work, and Davis Girls talking about whoever Davis Girl was dating. At some point I had to go to the restroom and I excused myself and went. When I came back there was some guy in my seat. I could tell from the look on Davis Girl’s face that he wasn’t invited to sit down by her. When I reached the table he looked a little annoyed but got up and left. Ten minutes later he walked back onto the deck and sat a few tables away from us with another guy friend. Besides a large table of about seven men and women, we were the only tables occupied on the upper deck at the time. After the first picture of beer Davis Girl has to pee too and leaves the table. As soon as she goes inside, both the original guy who took my seat when I left and his friend pull up chairs close to our table and start talking. (I am horrible with names and didn’t remember them two minutes after they introduced themselves but here they will forever be referred to as Some Dude and Ass Hole.)
Davis Girl, Some Dude, Ass Hole, and I get started talking about God knows what. It becomes apparent that Ass Hole is quite a bit drunker than the rest of us. Even after a shot or two there is no way we are going to catch up with this guy anytime soon. Twenty minutes or so later this is what’s happening…
Davis Girl: “And then we look into the beakers and blah, blah, science talk, blah…”
Me: “Students, students, something smart and witty, students…”
Some Dude: “Davis Girl you are so smart… and pretty… and I want to do dirty things it you…”
Ass Hole: “I’m drunk.”
Ass Hole then decides to move the evening along by standing up picking up my giant glass of water that hadn’t been touched because, come on, we had a picture of beer, and pour it in my lap. It was the most nonchalant action ever. Some person might have pointed to the dark clouds in the distance and said something about it raining soon. Ass Hole poured a whole glass of water on me and made a comment about my pants being wet. Thoughts poured (pun totally intended) through my head…
I know I can sometimes be a snarky bitch… what did I say to piss off Ass Hole.
Wait, he just poured water on me… on a girl… WFT Ass Hole???
Quick think of something smart… think of something clever… quick say something…
“What? Water… Me… Pour… Pants… Ass Hole…” I hate that in times of confrontation I turn into a stuttering second grader with a dirty mouth.
Davis Girl: “What the Fuck you Ass Hole? Who do you think you are? What kind of man pours water on a lady? Where were you raised because this is Texas and people know better and have better manners here?” Turning to Some Dude… “You need to get your friend out of here right now. He is drunk and a complete dick and…(so on and so on…)”
Davis Girl is one of those girls who not only could, but would probably like to kick some butt in a bar. I feel like everyone should have a friend who knows how to fight and stand up for you. I am totally not that friend. I would get hurt and I don’t like pain. Davis girl is that friend and totally has my back. Maybe one day I’ll blog about the time she almost got into a fist fight with the one black girl in our high school over a PT Cruiser in McDonald’s parking lot senior year. It’s epic.
Some Dude and Ass Hole quickly leave. (Like I said Davis Girl is scary) A girl from the only other table occupied on the deck comes over with some extra napkins shaking her head and making comments like, “how dare he” and “Who the Hell does he think he is…” I clean up, which wasn’t hard because I had come from work and was wearing black triacetate Ann Taylor pants which are practically waterproof. Davis Girl and I pay the bill and as we’re walking to our cars the whole ridiculousness and absurdity gets to us and we start cracking up. We both sit down on the curb and laugh about how crap like this would happen to me. We aren’t ready to call it a night and go home so Davis Girl suggests we drive a mile down Lamar to The Saloon, another neighborhood bar.
As I am in my car following Davis Girl, I call Boyfriend to invite him to meet us at The Saloon for a drink.
Boyfriend: I thought you were going to The Tavern?
Me: We had to leave The Tavern.
Boyfriend: What do you mean? Why?
Me: (tell him long story…) blah, blah, blah, Ass Hole, Blah, water in lap.
Boyfriend: WFT???
Me: blah, blah, blah, Ass Hole, Blah, Water in…
Boyfriend: I head you the first time, but why would he do that?
Me: I don’t know… I swear I didn’t say anything either!!!
Boyfriend: What was his name?
Me: I can’t remember
Boyfriend: Well, what did he look like?
Me: Um… he had dark hair… and was wearing a red polo shirt… yeah… pretty sure it was a red and black strip polo shirt… Why?
Boyfriend: No reason… Sure I would love to meet you and Davis Girl. I just have to stop by the house to change clothes first.
Me: Okay. See you in a bit. Bye.
Davis Girl and I get to The Saloon and order new drinks. It’s busy and we end up sitting on the curb outside waiting for a table to open and Boyfriend to arrive. As much as we try to go back to bitching about work we just keep reminiscing about the “water in lap” incident. 30 Minutes later Boyfriend arrives, goes straight to the bar and orders a stiff drink. When he comes outside to great us this is what he says,
Boyfriend: I went to The Tavern to defend your honor but I threw water on the wrong guy so I don’t think I worked.
Me: hu?
Boyfriend then tells me this story… “I really didn’t have to go home and change and I was already on my way to meet y’all at The Tavern. You told me what the guy looked like so I was just going to drop in and see if he was still there. Yeah, I know you said he left but I figured maybe they just went inside or down stairs to get away from you two. I walked outside on the upper deck and I saw him. Brown headed dude in a red striped polo shirt. My first thought was “oh shit, he’s still here” but it quickly turned to “what should I do now???” I didn’t think the guy would actually still be there but he was and I had to make a decision. So I went back inside to the bar, ordered a large ice water, walked back outside, taped the guy on his shoulder, and when he turned around I said “Next time you’ll think twice about throwing water on other people’s girlfriends.” And I poured the entire glass of water down the front of his shirt.”
OMG.
I love my boyfriend.
Please imagine this… you are sitting calmly with your group of friends having a few beers at the bar. You see some random chick get water thrown on (yes this was the same group that occupied the only other table on the deck) and thirty minutes later some crazy lunatic is pouring water all over you like some insane minister baptizing the whole bar. I would have paid a large amount of money to be a fly on the wall and witnessed this. Duh, the guy from the large group was pissed that Boyfriend had just emptied his giant cup of revenge onto his new GAP polo. He stands up, pushes Boyfriend, and takes a punch. Now, anyone who knows Boyfriend knows A: he’s not a fighter and B: he is shifty and fast as Hell (you should see him play water volleyball). Boyfriend just barely leans back enough to miss having his nose broken while the other guy’s friends hold him back and try to explain to Boyfriend what happened.
Five minutes later random group of people including “innocent guy who got water thrown on him” and Boyfriend were all taking shots together and laughing... yup, Boyfriend is that guy. He’s the guy that can make lifelong friends in five minute, even after pouring water on an innocent guy at the bar. On the other hand, I’m the girl that gets water thrown on her with no apology. But, then again I’m the girl whose boyfriend tries to defend her honor, which is kinda awesome…. Wash.
Boyfriend and I drove down to San Antonio this past weekend to spend some time with my parents. They built a beautiful new pool this summer and Saturday was spent floating, playing Horse with a volleyball because the basketball wouldn’t inflate properly, and just lounging in the sun. It was perfect. That night Mom, Boyfriend, and I were chatting in the living room before bed and Boyfriend brought up this story. I immediately started cracking up because I had forgotten all about it, and knew I had to blog about it on Monday. So here you all are… The Time Boyfriend Stood Up For My Honor And Almost Got Beat Up.
Last summer one night Davis Girl and I decided to meet for a drink in the evening. We meet at The Tavern for a few beers and good girl chat. Being the first person there I found a table for two on the second story deck. It was one of the nicer evening last summer (meaning it wasn’t 110 degrees but maybe only 98. 98 plus misters plus cold beer… very cool evening in Austin.) and I went ahead and ordered a picture of beer and two waters. Davis Girl showed up a few minutes later and we quickly fell into our normal routine of storytelling, bitching about work, and Davis Girls talking about whoever Davis Girl was dating. At some point I had to go to the restroom and I excused myself and went. When I came back there was some guy in my seat. I could tell from the look on Davis Girl’s face that he wasn’t invited to sit down by her. When I reached the table he looked a little annoyed but got up and left. Ten minutes later he walked back onto the deck and sat a few tables away from us with another guy friend. Besides a large table of about seven men and women, we were the only tables occupied on the upper deck at the time. After the first picture of beer Davis Girl has to pee too and leaves the table. As soon as she goes inside, both the original guy who took my seat when I left and his friend pull up chairs close to our table and start talking. (I am horrible with names and didn’t remember them two minutes after they introduced themselves but here they will forever be referred to as Some Dude and Ass Hole.)
Davis Girl, Some Dude, Ass Hole, and I get started talking about God knows what. It becomes apparent that Ass Hole is quite a bit drunker than the rest of us. Even after a shot or two there is no way we are going to catch up with this guy anytime soon. Twenty minutes or so later this is what’s happening…
Davis Girl: “And then we look into the beakers and blah, blah, science talk, blah…”
Me: “Students, students, something smart and witty, students…”
Some Dude: “Davis Girl you are so smart… and pretty… and I want to do dirty things it you…”
Ass Hole: “I’m drunk.”
Ass Hole then decides to move the evening along by standing up picking up my giant glass of water that hadn’t been touched because, come on, we had a picture of beer, and pour it in my lap. It was the most nonchalant action ever. Some person might have pointed to the dark clouds in the distance and said something about it raining soon. Ass Hole poured a whole glass of water on me and made a comment about my pants being wet. Thoughts poured (pun totally intended) through my head…
I know I can sometimes be a snarky bitch… what did I say to piss off Ass Hole.
Wait, he just poured water on me… on a girl… WFT Ass Hole???
Quick think of something smart… think of something clever… quick say something…
“What? Water… Me… Pour… Pants… Ass Hole…” I hate that in times of confrontation I turn into a stuttering second grader with a dirty mouth.
Davis Girl: “What the Fuck you Ass Hole? Who do you think you are? What kind of man pours water on a lady? Where were you raised because this is Texas and people know better and have better manners here?” Turning to Some Dude… “You need to get your friend out of here right now. He is drunk and a complete dick and…(so on and so on…)”
Davis Girl is one of those girls who not only could, but would probably like to kick some butt in a bar. I feel like everyone should have a friend who knows how to fight and stand up for you. I am totally not that friend. I would get hurt and I don’t like pain. Davis girl is that friend and totally has my back. Maybe one day I’ll blog about the time she almost got into a fist fight with the one black girl in our high school over a PT Cruiser in McDonald’s parking lot senior year. It’s epic.
Some Dude and Ass Hole quickly leave. (Like I said Davis Girl is scary) A girl from the only other table occupied on the deck comes over with some extra napkins shaking her head and making comments like, “how dare he” and “Who the Hell does he think he is…” I clean up, which wasn’t hard because I had come from work and was wearing black triacetate Ann Taylor pants which are practically waterproof. Davis Girl and I pay the bill and as we’re walking to our cars the whole ridiculousness and absurdity gets to us and we start cracking up. We both sit down on the curb and laugh about how crap like this would happen to me. We aren’t ready to call it a night and go home so Davis Girl suggests we drive a mile down Lamar to The Saloon, another neighborhood bar.
As I am in my car following Davis Girl, I call Boyfriend to invite him to meet us at The Saloon for a drink.
Boyfriend: I thought you were going to The Tavern?
Me: We had to leave The Tavern.
Boyfriend: What do you mean? Why?
Me: (tell him long story…) blah, blah, blah, Ass Hole, Blah, water in lap.
Boyfriend: WFT???
Me: blah, blah, blah, Ass Hole, Blah, Water in…
Boyfriend: I head you the first time, but why would he do that?
Me: I don’t know… I swear I didn’t say anything either!!!
Boyfriend: What was his name?
Me: I can’t remember
Boyfriend: Well, what did he look like?
Me: Um… he had dark hair… and was wearing a red polo shirt… yeah… pretty sure it was a red and black strip polo shirt… Why?
Boyfriend: No reason… Sure I would love to meet you and Davis Girl. I just have to stop by the house to change clothes first.
Me: Okay. See you in a bit. Bye.
Davis Girl and I get to The Saloon and order new drinks. It’s busy and we end up sitting on the curb outside waiting for a table to open and Boyfriend to arrive. As much as we try to go back to bitching about work we just keep reminiscing about the “water in lap” incident. 30 Minutes later Boyfriend arrives, goes straight to the bar and orders a stiff drink. When he comes outside to great us this is what he says,
Boyfriend: I went to The Tavern to defend your honor but I threw water on the wrong guy so I don’t think I worked.
Me: hu?
Boyfriend then tells me this story… “I really didn’t have to go home and change and I was already on my way to meet y’all at The Tavern. You told me what the guy looked like so I was just going to drop in and see if he was still there. Yeah, I know you said he left but I figured maybe they just went inside or down stairs to get away from you two. I walked outside on the upper deck and I saw him. Brown headed dude in a red striped polo shirt. My first thought was “oh shit, he’s still here” but it quickly turned to “what should I do now???” I didn’t think the guy would actually still be there but he was and I had to make a decision. So I went back inside to the bar, ordered a large ice water, walked back outside, taped the guy on his shoulder, and when he turned around I said “Next time you’ll think twice about throwing water on other people’s girlfriends.” And I poured the entire glass of water down the front of his shirt.”
OMG.
I love my boyfriend.
Please imagine this… you are sitting calmly with your group of friends having a few beers at the bar. You see some random chick get water thrown on (yes this was the same group that occupied the only other table on the deck) and thirty minutes later some crazy lunatic is pouring water all over you like some insane minister baptizing the whole bar. I would have paid a large amount of money to be a fly on the wall and witnessed this. Duh, the guy from the large group was pissed that Boyfriend had just emptied his giant cup of revenge onto his new GAP polo. He stands up, pushes Boyfriend, and takes a punch. Now, anyone who knows Boyfriend knows A: he’s not a fighter and B: he is shifty and fast as Hell (you should see him play water volleyball). Boyfriend just barely leans back enough to miss having his nose broken while the other guy’s friends hold him back and try to explain to Boyfriend what happened.
Five minutes later random group of people including “innocent guy who got water thrown on him” and Boyfriend were all taking shots together and laughing... yup, Boyfriend is that guy. He’s the guy that can make lifelong friends in five minute, even after pouring water on an innocent guy at the bar. On the other hand, I’m the girl that gets water thrown on her with no apology. But, then again I’m the girl whose boyfriend tries to defend her honor, which is kinda awesome…. Wash.
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