Do you ever wonder if you’re well liked? I don’t.
More often than not, the people I meet look as if they’d like to knock me down a few pegs. I start talking really fast about rabbits or lint or Aaron Neville because I have NO IDEA what is acceptable in a casual conversation- it’s just something I’ve never been able to grasp. You know that weird girl in the corner that nobody talks to because they don’t know what she’s speaking about…ever? I’m that girl. I think we should just get that out of the way so that you know going forward what this is really about. (Absolutely nothing.) I have decided to share with you the tales of some of the most awkward things that have ever happened to me.
1) The first thing that you should know is that I DO NOT do the poo in public settings. I’m really cautious about the way I smell, and since I’m already the weird girl, I can’t really afford to be the weird girl with the odor. However, this particular instance was different, because it was an emergency. I was driving to the gym and thinking about how much I loathed my life at that very moment when I realized I had to lay down a steamer. (See?) I knew from the start that it was the kind of shit you don’t ignore, especially when you’re about to get all loosey goosey and physically active. I knew there was no fucking way I was going to make it home without an incident in the poo parlor division, so I parked and ran like hell.
My face was all like:
There was another moment of terror directly following the realization that I was going to give birth to digested food. And it was the moment that I remembered that the gym features those stupid fucking turnstile things where you have to scan your card to get inside. IT’S FUCKING 5AM AND I AM GOING TO SHIT MY PANTS RIGHT HERE! Through what I believe was divine intervention, I found my card, scanned it, and continued to let ‘er buck until I reached the change-room. And that’s when it happened.
I ran straight into a naked old lady’s titty. She basically breastfed me. The worst part is that her name is Linda and she was basically my only friend at the gym. By friend I mean that we sometimes put our shoes on next to each other. It would seem that we would not be doing that anymore. All I could think to say was “Linda, you’re naked!” And then I proceeded to take the gnarliest shit in the history of ever. You’re welcome.
2) Remember those Mr.Sketcher’s markers? (What do you American kids call those? Coloring utensils?) More specifically, do you remember the CHERRY ONE?! Oh my God. The first time I smelled that fucking marker I was sure that I had reached Nirvana. Anyway, I decided that I wanted to smell that cherry bliss all day long. I had just moved to a new school and didn’t have any friends yet.( This incident would be the reason I didn’t make any for awhile.) I colored the inside of my nostrils with that marker and quickly came to the conclusion that it was the best decision I had ever made. Whenever I lost the smell, I would just color it again. It was like a sick addiction to my awkward, prepubescent being, and I found myself doing it more than was necessary or, well, normal. One on occasion I was coloring rather vigorously in the restroom when a handful of my female classmates came in to fix their lipgloss, or touch their boobs, or whatever popular girls do. They saw me. I saw them. Nobody said anything. That’s the story.
3) I spend too much time on the internet. I’m sure that this will shock absolutely nobody since I am here talking about myself. Anyway, sometimes I pick up the lingo and attempt to use it in real life, which never goes over well because I can never seem to pick the right setting under which to reveal the brilliance that is the worldwide web. I had seen this really great conversation that featured the term “ditch pig.” I thought it was the most hilarious name that you could ever call somebody, even though I suppose that it is not socially acceptable. But, as we have established, I have the grace of a hippo at a rave. I was sitting at my brother’s house, and his girlfriend was sitting across from me. I don’t know why, but I felt this inexplicable urge to say it. So I did. I think it went something like “That’s because ____ is a ditch pig!” The room fell silent and I knew that I had just done one diddle that couldn’t be undid. The silence was so awkward- it was like I had taken my boob out and laid it on the table or something. Now, if you ask me, I think that it was evident that I was joking. If you ask her, she will probably tell you that I’m a twat.
This post is already too fucking long, but if you feel like hearing more, ask and ye shall receive. If you feel like shooting the shit with me, get at me on the Twitter….bitches!