Birthday "Party"

I know a girl- a coworker of my friend Jess- who thinks we're friends. I don't know how or why she got that impression, but she's the most awkward human being I've ever met. I'm including myself in that list; she's that bad.

A few months ago (sorry I haven't written about it sooner), she invited me and Jess to her birthday party. The only reason I even considered going was because Jess said she'd go. At the last minute I told myself "fuck it, I'll go and be nice." This was not the correct response for this situation. I arrived at the party only to find that Jess was a bitch and wasn't coming. I was in this acquaintance's house who I could barely stand for more than five minutes with two of her other friends. To make it more uncomfortable- her mom was playing christian pop music. That doesn't exactly scream 'birthday' to me. The girl made us play a drawing game that was a cross between pictionary and telephone. The first person writes a sentence, the next draws a picture, the next uses the last picture to write a new sentence and so forth.

Did I mention this was for a 19 year old?

Her brother, his wife and grandparents showed up, making things slightly better and then so much worse. The brother, wife and I started having some kind of adult conversation, leading into what kind of drinks we preferred. This was the first time I didn't feel the need to escape. Unfortunately, I might've come across as an alcoholic for choosing whiskey over wine, then listing the various brands I like and don't. The fact that I knew more than two seemed to make them uncomfortable.

As unpleasant as this ordeal had been thus far, this is where it gets cringeworthy. Her grandparents insisted we all call them "Ma" and "Pa." I shit you not. They took it back to little house on the prairie. Then they asked how to do a certain country line dance and the brother taught anyone in the kitchen... for multiple songs. I couldn't find a tactful way of leaving, being too freaked out to use the emergency phone call excuse. Luckily the party ended soon after the obligatory fighting over who gets which piece of cake.

This was all pokemon themed, by the way.

As I was leaving, she cornered me and asked when my birthday was/ how old I'd be. She then offered to be DD if I wanted to go to any bars or something like that. Yeah, maybe, anything so I can go the hell home.

A week or so ago we ran into each other and had the obligatory catching-up conversation that literally was this:

"Oh hey... How are you?" -me
"Great! How about you?" -her
"Eh. Nothing new." -me

Then we stared at each other for a solid 5 seconds.

"Yeah, seriously, I have nothing. My life isn't exciting right now." -me

More staring.


The joys of friendship.

We are "family"

The art critic's review:

"Patricia Piccinni brings a fresh, personal perspective to some of the most difficult ethical issues of our time: What is normal? What is the nature of our relationship with animals? Are some lives worth more than others? What constitutes a family?"

This exhibit was supposed to show genetic crossbreeding with humanity in the future... I think. I looked it up again online and was just as unsure what the purpose was as I was when I saw it for the first time. Then again in my nightmares. Mostly likely in my nightmares tonight after writing this.

I realize everyone's taste in art is different and I've never worked with whatever medium she used, so I can't speak for the technicality. As a regular observer I can comfortably say "What the fuck is that?"

He was like a grandfather who melted into a walrus and the kid just went with it.

Did I mention the kid is life sized? Like 10 year old child sized. When I first walked into the room I thought the kid was real and being creepily interactive with whatever that thing was. Grand-walrus was about 5 feet long with a head the size of the kid's entire torso.

Remember- this was the special 'name in lights' kind of traveling attraction, so there was no escaping any of the 30ish sculptures. That one wasn't even the scariest, it just stuck in my head after 3 years.

The other accompanying miniature features weren't much better. The only two of those I distinctly remember were a taxidermy crossbreed (see my other post about the deer head...) and a bronze sculpture of little red ridding hood holding an axe, standing in the heap of wolf she cut herself out of.

Overall it was quite a morbid experience. 

I leave you with this:

sweet dreams :]

Gentleman's Club

A future recommendation- don't go to a strip club on a weekday. Specifically not a Monday night. There was a slow progression of the night- I didn't just get in the car and set off on this adventure. Dinner with friends turned into hanging out at a bar. Somehow this led to the discovery that I've never been to a strip club before. My guy friends were (overly) excited with the possibility of going; my straight, female friend said "Meh."

It was bizarre.

The women on stage were nothing like I pictured they'd be. I wasn't expecting to be inspired to strip, but I was hoping for more theatrics. Completely dead eyes, hair in ponytails with non-sexy glasses using the same moves in almost the same order and no transitions. Ass shake, lay down, spread legs, shake legs, get up, ass shake, end of song.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the point of stripping is to show some skin in a seductive manner. Most of them went to the unlit side of the stage behind a pillar to take her top off and come back out. The one who didn't leave was not graceful about it. It was literally a 'here are my tits' move.

Possibly the worst disillusionment- only one used the pole... badly. She climbed to the very top and awkwardly slid down. Really more falling than sliding. It looked painful.

Previously, my friends decided that I needed the full experience of getting a lap dance. The unfortunate thing is the dancer we all liked had already gone home for the night and then we couldn't agree on an acceptable replacement. So the rest of the evening, my girl friend and I critiqued the style or lack thereof of each dancer, deciding either of us would be much better. I still firmly believe this.



If I were a lesbian I'd be severely disappointed. Even as a straight woman I have to say it was fairly anti-climactic. So... that was beginning of my week. It can only go up from here, right?

Petty, Satisfying Revenge

A while back I was officially inducted into the nerd club- actually paying money this time! The information card everyone was supposed to fill out included name, major, career goal, and if you wanted to thank anyone in particular.

As a joke in the offhand chance they'd really humor me (or not pay enough attention and slip up), I filled out my name as "Lauren Waitforit [last name]." I knew the odds were slim to none against being announced as such, but I still had to try regardless. In my opinion, this isn't a terribly serious event. How wrong I was.

The rest of the info I filled out like a responsible adult. I was going to make another snappy comment, but didn't want to push my luck. Too much goofiness and I'd definitely get caught right away.

The day of the long, winded ceremony came and I was reminded of how much I truly hate these formalities and the people who run them. They are rigid "Type A" personalities and I am nowhere close to that. I'm a go with the flow kind of person... or apathetic. Whatever synonym you'd prefer. While lining everyone up for the hundredth time, I glanced at the card and saw Waitforit had been completely (unnecessarily aggressively) scratched out. It was disappointing, but not surprising.

When the president of the universe *ahem, university* got to my card, she purposefully left out half of my information. Just the name and major with an incredibly awkward silence for me to walk across the stage. The tension was palpable in the small auditorium in that drawn-out moment before she moved on to the next person. Other people got away with dorky, joking parts of their announcements. I lividly glared at her the rest of the evening, wishing I could shoot lasers out of my eyes.

Then, to drag this miserable night out even further, Ms. Priss demanded a group picture of the 100ish people. I faked a convincing smile and planned out what I'd say to her when I confronted her later. Something biting about her unprofessional immaturity at a trivial and harmless joke. Just because I pissed you off doesn't mean you were allowed to ignore everything else. I thanked people and you made me look like a jackass.

I needed revenge. She ran off immediately afterwards and I was too angry to trust myself to confront her without making a scene. There was no way I'd let the world see me lose my cool. She was in the wrong, not I. I still needed something to vent.

There was very little action I could take in that moment. Looking at my surroundings, I settled on the one thing I could definitely do. You passive aggressively leave out half of my information, I passive aggressively steal your flowers.

I stole an entire pot of them off of the stage. On my way out, as part of the crowd, I smoothly picked them up and left without missing a beat. I have the skills to get away with it. Not that I'm a kleptomaniac, but I've had enough practice to be confident. Those are stories for another time.

(Molly approves)

In the long run it really doesn't make that much of a difference, but I felt better with my small victory.

It's gross but kinda funny

I threw up a lot as a kid... bare minimum twice a month. It was partially because I have a shitty immune system, partially because I had (have) panic attacks. I've gotten a bit better on both issues, but I still throw up almost every time I get sick with anything. I don't do it on purpose. That being said, I have favorite stories:

I was alone in my house at night, most of the lights off. There was no warning, just the instant 'Oh God it's happening RIGHT NOW' feeling. I almost made it to the bathroom, but ended up puking on the floor. It was so much darker than vomit should ever be.

I distinctly remember calmly thinking "Is this blood? Which part of my body is shutting down? Is throwing up blood kidney or liver failure? No one is here to take me to the hospital."

Thankfully, it was just spaghetti. It's nice to not have internal bleeding.

There was the time I tried to drink myself into oblivion after a godawful day. I was impatient and wanted to be drunk immediately... too much, too fast, empty stomach. I puked everything I've ever eaten. The next day my friend tried consoling me, telling me to "puke out the sadness. Like a fuckin dragon." It was surprisingly helpful. Since then, every single time I vomit I think of dragons.

The absolute best story was the movies. No, I didn't puke in the theater. It would make for a more dramatic ending, though more humiliating than I think I'd admit to the internet. It was close, don't get me wrong.

I refused to run to the bathroom to save my dignity, which in hindsight was a bad idea. It would've given me the extra few seconds to get into a stall, close the door, and position myself in front of the toilet. My dumb ass walked and barely got inside a stall. There was no time for anything else.

There's projectile and then there's what I did. I exploded. It went everywhere. EVERYWHERE. On the seat, on the top and sides of the tank, every side of the bowl, the back of the toilet, on the stall walls, covered the floor.

EXPLODED.

Maybe 20% actually got in the toilet. I cleaned up and almost threw up again just because I was so disgusted. Then I found one of the employees, explained the situation, said it just needed to be disinfected. This made me miss the majority of the movie, which I had been looking forward to seeing for the past month or so.

To make this story even better- this was in the middle of a pregnancy scare. My boyfriend at the time didn't make the connection until the next day. Luckily it was just the flu. I wasn't (nor have I ever been) pregnant.

Then there are memorable stories of being sick in elementary, middle and high school. The trip to california where I threw up at least once a day. If I go too long without eating. All of the carsick stories (lots and lots). Like I said, I puke a lot. It sucks.

Groups of anything in class should die

Fuck you, group projects and fuck you hard. Literally every week thus far I’ve been involved in some kind of group since the start of the semester. I don't want to interact with anyone else ever, stop trying to make it happen. Just let me stare at the clock and count the minutes until I can leave.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become somewhat less shitty at public speaking. Still not enthusiastic about the idea and still hope a meteor crashes into the room right before my turn, but I can get through a presentation alright. A personal one, I mean. Group presentations make me nervous and I’m sudden back in third grade having a panic attack because I don’t know if I’m going to mesh with the group or if everyone will pinpoint and focus on my mistakes. Even then I knew how painfully awkward I was. Third grade. For serious.

There was a moment in the terrible 'trying to put everything together' phase where I realized I might have done mine horribly, horribly wrong. From that point on, I was in the state of nauseated nervousness, obsessing on what I could say to redeem myself.

Luckily the rest of the group was at the same level of “I hope this is right” confusion, so at least it would be homogenous. A guy in the group admitted that he was also extremely awkward in every aspect of life. One of us made a joke about awkward hugs, so I mimed my best version… at the same time he did. We were both unsure of what to do. We did the lean into it, lean away, what the shit are you doing, what the shit am I doing, why is this happening, I hate everything that’s ever led up to this moment, please God drop a meteor right now.

It ended up as the weirdest hug- a side hug with me tapping the outside of his arm, him tapping one of my shoulders, the other arm just in the air in my direction.

Save room for Jesus!

Presentation- I haven’t been that apprehensive about public speaking for a long time. I kept telling myself to chill out, be kinda normal for 90 seconds. It wasn’t working out well. My inner voice was getting pissed at my actual voice and I think my frustration crept out. Most of the people in class had the same weird look on their faces the longer I was standing. Then the professor kept asking questions and I couldn’t comprehend what she wanted me to say, so I just kept talking, hoping she’d leave me alone ASAP.

Then that lying son of a bitch started explaining his part. Where was the awkwardness now, motherfucker? He was charismatic and downright charming. He had the perfect joke timing. I immediately hated him. I was under the impression we had solidarity in our inept social skills.

When it was over I asked a joking question (really a snide comment with a joking tone so I wouldn’t be obviously bitchy) about where that awkwardness went. He said public speaking is the only thing he’s comfortable with; it’s everything else he’s not. I don’t know if I believe him.

But then again, there was that hug…

Jesus could’ve danced between us in the amount of space there was. Time stopped in the worst possible way and took eons to start again. I don’t know if I can stress how uncomfortable and freakishly long moment that was.

So... that happened.

Slap heard 'round the world

Apparently I'm somewhat infamous in another town. By that I mean people know the story AND my name. I'm not just "that girl."

A few months ago, my group of friends were camping out and towards the early evening started drinking. One of the guys (whom I'd never met; he's a friend of a friend) is an obnoxious drunk. Too loud, whiny, and getting emotional. He is the type who can't let a joke die and has little to no filter.

One of my friends has this weird thing about belly buttons- if you poke her there she'll throw up. She saw some horrible thing where a kid got impaled on his bike through his belly button or something. Regardless, you should respect someone's personal space. He kept trying to poke her, she was forcefully telling him to leave her alone, he didn't listen. He thought it was a game.

By that point he was pissing me off. You just don't mess with a girl's best friend. I stepped in front of him, got right in his face, and told him to leave her the fuck alone. He just laughed and tried to reach around me. Without warning I slapped him. Hard.

Full contact- heel to fingertip, stung my hand kind of hard. Our mutual friend saw and heard it across the campsite and came over to diffuse the situation, dragging him away. He was being a whiny bitch and kept saying "she slapped the shit out of me! Why did she slap the shit out of me?"

He sulked for the rest of the night and apologized the next day. About a week or so later he made some lewd comments about us to our mutual friend, who then decided he wasn't allowed to be around any of us ever again.

Doucheface told someone about that night, who told someone else... so then everyone knew he got the shit slapped out of him by me. By everyone I mean my group of people, the other friends there, some of their friends, this guy, and some of the people at the college he goes to. I am legendary in town 2 hours away. Win.

The only downside is that every time I'm drinking with the belly-button friend she makes a comment that nobody better piss me off or I'll slap them. I'm really not a violent person. I yell and cuss like a mother fucker in traffic, but that's as intimidating as I get. I almost never hit anyone.

For the record, at the time of the slap I was sober.