And still, Only Me. Part 2
Remember the last “Only Me” post? Well this week has been full of serious posts and heavy topics, so I wanted to lighten up the mood a bit. So, for your reading pleasure, a few more things that would totally only happen to me. Happy to have you laugh at my expense, just to bring a smile to your face.
The People Of Walmart
So I’m in line at the store the other day, and I am sort of just half listening to the two girls behind me talking. One girl is saying to the other girl, “yea, that’s what happens to my earrings because my ears were unevenly pierced. They said they would even out when I grow up.” I sort of want to turn around and ask her “How is that going to happen kid? Are your ears going to start growing unevenly as you get older? Because if the piercings “even out,” now you might have the bigger problem now of uneven ears.” But, I restrain and instead continue to half eavesdrop on their conversation.
“So, do you want to go with us on Saturday?” said the other girl. You’re practically adopted anyways,” The other girl replies “Will your mom pay for me? Because that would be so swag. Totally swagger.” Ok great, I have no idea what they are talking about and now I feel incredibly old. They continue talking. “Yea, sure, she’ll pay. If she doesn’t I’ll just tell her to take it out of my allowance. I can’t believe we have to walk all the way home. Its freezing. That is so totally unswagger. Seriously unswagger. Hey, do you want me to buy them or do you? I can’t believe the checkout guy is a dude. How embarrassing.”
Ok, I will admit it, now I am totally listening. I’m thinking they have to be buying condoms. How funny and totally inappropriate seeing as how they are like 12. I do my best incognito “I’m just sort of looking behind me and totally not looking at you” turn around. Nope! No condoms. They are buying PREGNANCY TESTS. You have got to be freaking kidding me. I’m like scanning the aisle now to see if anyone else is watching this. Nope, just me! “I’ll buy it,” the shorter of the two absolutely-way-to-young-to-even-be-KISSING girls says, “How do you use it anyways? Do you just stick it in like a tampon?” OHMYGOSH. SERIOUSLY OHMYGOSH. Its not a thermometer! You don’t stick it in and it pops out when the baby is done cooking! Have you seen the sharp edges on those things!? I’m feeling a bit faint just thinking about it and now my vagina hurts.
I pay, and then they pay, and we both leave at the same time. As I’m walking through the door I hear “Hey so where do you want to take it? If we do it at home your mom will see. Should we just go behind the building?”
Well that settles that. I know now that I can at least stop fearing for the future of the American public. Now I absolutely know we are doomed and I can just start planning my escape.
If you don’t live in America,
send plane tickets.
Also, send those girls some much needed prayers.
On the completely other end of the spectrum, I was sitting in a waiting room at the doctor’s office, and I see two little old people, easily in their early 80’s, playing on their IPhone’s. I never even figured out how to use my IPod, and these two whiz kid old people are using IPhone’s. The older gentleman is very loudly announcing to his wife, everything he is reading on his phone. “Fran, I’m checking my email. Oh! Two new ones!! This one says ‘it’s a sale that can’t be missed!’ Should we check that out? Here Fran, let me read you the other one. This one says ‘local, young, and busty.’ Fran, do you know what that means?”
I am nearly dry heaving trying to swallow down laughter.
“Fran, let me check my Facebook.” Oh. My. Gosh. Grandpa has a Facebook!! Where are the camera’s? Seriously. Where are they? This cannot be real.
“Oh!! Jessi updated her status! It says ‘I can’t sleep. People are pissing me off.’ Maybe we should call her later Fran.”
I am dying at this point. I am actually dying from choking down laughter.
Then, the older woman looks at him, and says quite sternly “Bill! Will you just shut up!? I am trying to play candy crush!”
That’s it. I’m dead. I have actually just died. Someone is going to have to resuscitate me.
Also that week, I let Santa play with my boobs. I wish I was kidding. I’m not.
I had an ultrasound to check up on a cyst that I had developed when I was nursing my son. You couldn’t see it or feel it, I only knew it was there bc my booby hurt like hell and it showed up on an ultrasound. So anyways, the doc just wanted to re ultrasound said booby to make sure the cyst had gone away. The tech finishes the ultrasound and says to me “Well, I don’t see anything, so it looks like the cyst is gone, but the radiologist will read the films before you go.” Ok, sounds good.
So I sit there, in my “washed way to many times and is now completely see through” hospital gown, that I have literally wrapped three times around me, and I wait. I’m perched on the edge of the gurney, swinging my feet back and forth, and wondering what on earth people do when they are waiting around in cell phone restricted area’s, such as where I am currently.
I’m bored out of my mind.
Then the door opens, and Santa comes in. He is a short old guy, big round belly, white hair, and white beard. I chuckle to myself, because of all irony’s, it is the morning of Christmas Eve. I think about asking him if maybe he should be getting some rest since he has a lot of work to do tonight, but for once in my life, I am granted a rare moment of the ability to keep my mouth shut.
I am proud.
So Santa starts talking, “it looks like the cyst is gone, nothing showed up on the ultrasound. Do you feel anything?”
I tell him no.
“Does anything hurt?”
Do you feel any lumps?
I think I already said no.
“Does it ever hurt?”
Are you even listening to me?
“Maybe I had better take a look.”
Hum….as far as I know, radiologists read films, not do exams. But….he is a medical professional….so….. I guess that would be ok.
I lay down, unwrap my bedspread of a hospital gown, and open it up. Whatever-her-name-is nurse tries to give him a pair of gloves, to which he declines.
Now wait a minute, that’s not right TOOLATE. Santa grabs BOTH boobs with both of his hands. “Does this hurt?”
Uh…no, but how about we get some gloves on Santa.
“What about when I do this” he says as he squeezes one boob. Uh….no, but I’m still waiting on those gloves.
“What about when I squeeze the other one?” Yea, that one never hurt, what are we doing here?
“What about when I jiggle them?” Did you just say jiggle!? Also, CAN SOMEONE GET THE MAN SOME GLOVES??
“What about when I do” too late I sit up. “Um, yea, I’m fine, and I’m going to follow up with my doctor so thanksandeverythingandgoodbye. I’m not even sure I have the gown on before I’m heading out the door. Whatever-her-name-is-nurse is calling after me something about something but I don’t care. Merry Christmas Kris Creepy Hands.
Now I know why you are such a jolly guy.
Speaking of old men, I was supposed to run a support group this week, but throughout the day my ladies kept texting me to say they couldn’t make it. By the time evening rolled around no one was coming. I already had the sitter scheduled and it was too late to cancel without paying her, so I called a friend and asked her if she wanted to do something. She asked me what I wanted to do and I told her that I didn’t care as long as no children are there because I need a break. So, she picks me up and takes me to a casino. Was not expecting that.
I’ve never gambled before, and I am frugal as hell, but I’m game to try anything. We get out of the car, I see a trashcan, and I blow my gum from across the parking lot directly into it. Classy and talented, I’m quite the total package. My friend hands me forty bucks and tells me obviously I’m having good luck tonight, so have some fun. We argue back and forth for a few minutes about how there is no way I am taking her money, I am only spending five dollars tonight because I am poor and prideful, and I don’t want her money. Eventually I lose.
We get in there, and I tell her I’m $40 ahead and cashing out for the evening. She’s not buying it. So we play games that I still don’t understand, but somehow I lost all her money. When I am down to .36 cents I win $37 back, cash out, pay her back, and then we argue again because she wants me to keep it. This time I win. I do agree however, to grab dinner with her.
Now, I kid you not, two days ago we had an entire conversation about how everywhere I go, I get the strangest men coming on to me. Her exact words to me were “You are like a bug light for the creepers, you just draw them in!” Seriously, what gives? I have enough odd stories to sustain this blog for a year. In fact, when I worked a part time job a few years ago, the employee’s thought it would be funny to cheer EVERY time I came into work, because they knew weird things were going to happen on that shift. Like the time they left me to run the store, after I BEGGED them not too, and a guy ran his car into the building. Or the guy that we had to lock out and he went totally ballistic trying to break the windows to get back in. When I worked at a physical therapy place, there was a patient who would ask my boss every. single. day. if he could pick me up. PICK ME UP. It got to the point where everytime the guy would walk through the door, my boss would just yell “No!” to him from across the clinic.
Back to this particular night, we are sitting in the booth for no more then five minutes, when this old dude comes and sits down next to me. In the booth. I scoot over, he scoots over, I scoot over, he scoots over. Soon we are all snuggly against the side of the wall, and I’m literally waving to the hostess to get her attention so she can have someone remove this guy. My friend? Thinks its hysterical. She is engaging him in conversation. I am dying. He is giving me the worst lines I have ever heard, and keeps trying to put his arm around me. I am still dying, and my friend is sneaking pictures of me. Finally the hostess tells him to move. He is not gone for ONE MINUTE before another old guy comes over and asks if the previous old guy was bothering me. He then tries to sit down, but with my lightening speed reflex’s, the first thing that comes to mind is MAKE NO ROOM FOR HIM.
So I lay down. In the booth. Yea. That was a bright move chick. Now what the hell are you going to do?You are lying down in restaurant! New old guy doesn’t seem to mind. He is trying to get me to move over and give him space, keeps saying he wants to join girls night because we look like fun. By then, even my friend is telling him we wanted to be alone. So in my totally creeped out moment of insanity, I yelled to the hostess from across two tables “Is it free creepy old men night here? Are you giving them away? Because I’ve had enough of them tonight, thanks!” New old guy looks at me, walks away. I can’t believe I was so rude, I’m actually a little ashamed, but COME ON. It was totally inappropriate and absolutely invading my personal space.
|It takes a true friend to take a picture of you when you are dying|
Photo Credit Pregnancy Test: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jima/
Photo Credit Phone: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gwilmore/
Photo Credit Santa: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pjfaere/
Photo Credit Me Dying: FRIEND I NEED TO BEAT UP