I love how some things transcend cultral differences and just lie inherent in all people. Like smiling. Or basic emotions. Or that moment you’re at a loud party and the room suddenly goes quiet just as you are screaming something innappropriate.
That so has to be a universal phenomenon…!!
Unless you’re Canadian. Everything flies in the Great North. That’s why people like Celine Dion, Chris Haney and Scott Abbott*, and all the dudes from Nickleback have been allowed to thrive. There is just no sense of right and wrong there. If a moral line exsisted in Canada it wouldn’t just be occassionally crossed. That line would be sodomized and held in a kinky postion until it curled itself into a safe little circle. But I digress…
Those awkward moments in a suddenly silent room….
As with many things in my life, I can’t help but feel I experience a freakishly abnormal amount of cringe-worthy shit. Like there was a mix-up at the People Factory in the Sky (you know, like where we all come from?)…. and there are rotund dwarfs that dole out various situations in little scoops and dollops (resulting in situations known to average folk as – fate, coiencidence, karma, bad luck, good luck – and all of those other wonder terms we use to explain things). But that’s all just science fiction we made up to explain for the fact that those ofish little men in the sky are fucking life up for people.
I’m pretty sure they’ve been dealing with substance abuse problems for centuries. That’s why crappy lives are not evenly distributed across the board like they’re supposed to be. The cracked-out, sky men are screwing the whole system up. I’m calling for a mandatory NA meeting in heaven so they can get their shit together.
Because burnt-out, sky-dwarf junkies are the only explaination I can come up with for the outlandish amount of humiliating experiences I get myself into…
The list is long…
Things like having a piece of basil the size of Kanye West’s ego stuck between your front teeth. And no one tells you. So you go to a job interview with it unknowly bitch-slapping you in the face like the imbecil you are every time you smile.
Unintentionally setting off a fire alarm in the Smithsonian.
Walking in the door after a date, only to realize your zipper has been down for God-knows-how-long. Then noticing (as you’re ripping the bastard dennim from your body) that you are wearing panties so hideous your eccentric aunt wouldn’t even wear them.
Drinking way too much iced tea at a political rally… and then peeing on a sidewalk in front of the mayor. All because your friend told you a dead baby joke that made you laugh so hard you lost bladder control.
I can’t even recount the number of times I’ve stuck not only my foot in my mouth, but my leg- all the way up to my perky vagina. (That bitch seems to stay oblivious to the wretched situations we find ourselves in. I can only attribute this to her passion for screwdrivers and desire to remain in the dark).
For example, a few weeks ago at a family dinner. I was talking to my 87 year old grandmother (who is the definition of traditions and lady-like manners) above the den of thirty family members screaming over each other. As I tried to convince her that this is the PRIME time to hit the dating scence up, the noise volume in the room reached a record-smashing level. She said she was done with men.
So naturally, the exact moment that I screamed, “Grandmother- YOU SHOULD TOTALLY BE A LESBIAN AND HIT IT WITH SOME HOT OLD CHICKS!!!”, was the precise moment of a room-wide lull.
Every single eyeball swiveled towards me.
Then I exploded in a massive cloud of sulfurish smoke.
Not really. But that would have only been fitting had it actually occured. Instead I was resigned to stand there and listen to numerous biblical lectures on homosexuality from my uber-godly cousin.
I have a feeling that all I’m going to get for Christmas is a do-it-yourself surgery kit with all the gear I will need to sew my mouth shut.
* The inventors of Trival Pursuit. The board game 77% responsible for public recognition amoung my family and friends of what an idiot I am.
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