Oh my God. How did I forget to post this story about when I totally put my foot in my mouth?... Then shamelessly tried to back pedal my way out of it. Like lamest backpedal ever.
This was a few years ago and I was coming back from a night out with my friend “The Child” and The Child’s college buddy. I met the college buddy maybe 3 times over the years but didn’t really know him well at all. (And to set the picture the buddy was kind of a serious guy.)
We’re driving in the car and a radio commercial for the Boy Scouts comes on. Then this happens:
Me: (in loud, blow hard, sarcastic voice) The Boy Scouts? Phhhhttttt! What about those dudes that are Boy Scouts into high school? Like an Eagle Scout? "Look, I earned my 'Doesn’t want to get laid badge.' Look at meeeee..” You’ve got to be kidding me.
College Friend: (from the back seat) Actually both of my son’s are in high school and really involved in Scouting. I’ve even been a troop leader. We’ve gone on some great camping trips and it’s been a really great experience.
**** SOUND OF SCREECHING BRAKES IN MY HEAD…TOTALLY EMBARRASSED, THE WORST BACKPEDALING BEGINS*****
Me: Really? (acting is if his three sentence statement somehow changed my entire perspective on what I think about being a Boy Scout in high school. Like it was the closing statement in the Scopes Monkey Trial and I finally saw the light) …I didn’t know THAT. Hmmm..I guess scouting can be kind of cool.
Silence from the backseat. Then The Child changes the subject. I look in mirror and see this:
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
There’s nothing I can’t stand more than a bore ass. People just yappin’ about stuff that isn’t remotely interesting or funny. And giving every mundane detail. Going on and on.
Like this chick I used to work with would go on a cruise every year and when she came back she would tell me every boring detail. She’d start off like, “OK, so we get there Monday. And usually we like to check in and get right to the bar, but it was really crowded so we decided, ‘What he hell’, lets sneak in a drink across the street…”
But saying it in a way like “Aren’t we crazy?” And trust me. Nothing interesting happened across the street but the margarita’s were sooooooo good.
Then she would proceed to go day by day and tell me every boring detail. I’d sit there nodding (because I’m a nice guy – plus I was trapped in her office). Sometimes when you thought your sentence was almost over she’d remember something “important” in the story and have to go back, “So we wake up on Thursday and then and I wanted to get to that buffet so….Oh wait! I forgot to tell you about the illusionist we saw Wednesday night*!!!”
I was always happy when she was done and even happier when I’d see her corning someone else in the hall or in the coffee room. And you’d see the same glazed over look in their eyes as she excitedly told them the exact story. Word for word, “We met this couple named Peggy and Mike. They were sooooo funny. We’re going to keep in touch. Mike was a RIOT!” I'd give the person a look behind her back like, "Hmmm you don't say.."
So basically what I’m trying to say is: if you’re boring, please shut the fuck up.
(And look at that fat fuck in the blue at the buffet table. Jesus Christ Tubby. Leave some food for the rest of us!)
*can he make me disappear
Thursday, May 5, 2011
I find nothing funnier than when things are going great for people then all of a sudden disaster strikes.
Well not like tornadoes or death or anything but things like the story I'll now tell you that my sister told me.
A little background. My sister at the time had three kids. Ages 5, 4 and zero. And she was kind of paranoid about going out at the time with all three because it was such a big ordeal. So the idea of bringing the three of them to the park AND the 4 year old's friend was a major thing for her. This is how she told the story to me:
So I can't believe how great things were going. The boys were being so good, and the baby wasn't crying and I'm thinking this is such a great day. I was really proud of myself. Then all of a sudden Billy Bob's* friend says "Mrs Renard** I have to go potty."
And Jimmy, I'm like, "Oh no. Not now!" And I look in the distance and at the far end of the park there's a porta potty. So I gather up all our stuff and we make our way over there. Billy Bob's friend is saying, "I really have to go Mrs Renard."
And I'm trying to stay calm. Well we get over there and believe it or not it's a brand new porta potty. It had never been used. Totally clean. So the kid goes in, he says, "I can do it myself."
And I just give a sigh of relief.
Well about 30 seconds later I hear a panic in the kid's voice saying, "Mrs Renard,I need help!"
Well Jimmy, I opened the door....and there's shit EVERYWHERE! All over the wall, on the toilet, on the floor, all over him and his clothes. It was like someone had filled up a bag of shit and hit it like a PINATA!!!
So I'm trying to stay calm but his clothes are covered with shit so I had to undress him and wrap him in the baby's blanket and we made our way back to the car.
HAHAHA! A Pinata! God. I love that story. So glad it didn't happend to me.
And if you're a fan of explosive diarreah stories you'd LOVE this one: Clicky here
**Also a fake name