Posts tagged ridiculous
Posts tagged ridiculous
One of my earliest memories is of doing the big grown up thing of going to the movie theater for the first time. The entire event has had such a profound impact on my past that I’ve unsuccessfully tried to repress the memory of it from my existence. If I had a therapist I would tell him, “That shit scarred me for life bro”, and pound my chest mournfully, but since I don’t seek professional help, I mostly handle my emotions by tearfully screaming at the mirror, “I’m a good girl! Tell me I’m pretty mama!”
It was for my third birthday and my mom surprised me with something she thought my fragile, uncorrupted mind could handle, a day at the movies! The film was Lady and the Tramp and must have been a re-release since it originally came out in 1955, and much to my dismay I’m not a 57 year old woman with a fierce interest in sock hops and saddle shoes. I’m actually 28 and don’t spend my weekends ironing poodle skirts and doing the jitterbug to Fats Domino. All of my facts and information about the 1950’s come from the movies Grease and La Bamba, so I don’t even know if any of that is correct. Kenickie! Buddy Holly!
Well, this makes sense. :-(
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I’m leaning towards a crying fit that slowly dissolves into sobby, sad laughter.
This is a ridiculous idea. Instead of starting their own maternity line I’d like to suggest that instead Forever 21 create their own brand of condom that every teenager gets at checkout. I think the tag line should be “If you want to be Forever 21 DON’T HAVE A BABY EVER”. But I guess pregnant teenagers need to get their drink on and they need their clubbing/party clothes in order to do that so who am I to judge?
If I ever have a daughter she will only shop at L.L. Bean and everything she wears will be made of fleece. Fleece is the number one preventer of pregnancy you know.
On my way into to work today a bird pooped inside my car. That’s right INSIDE MY CAR. It was beautiful morning so I had my window rolled all the way down and was busy jamming out to Cyndi Lauper when he must have squirted (ew I know) his fecal matter into my beautiful 2002 Chevy Cavalier. Based on the size and consistency of the poo I believe the bird was either a pigeon or a large American bald eagle. On closer inspection of this bird crime scene I realized some of it splashed onto the sleeve of my NEW WHITE SHIRT. I was trying to understand how all this was possible. What angle was this bird at that he managed to get this into my car? I don’t think John Nash could understand the physics of it all. I thought in the past I made it perfectly clear to Mother Nature that birds and I were just friends and here they were trying to bring our relationship to an intimate and new level by pooping on me. I started rapidly going through the five stages of grief.
Denial- “Ya know what maybe that’s not really bird poop. I think it actually might just be a smooshed Ho-Ho. Mmmm Ho-Ho’s”
Anger - “J’accuse! I vow vengence on that bird. I will hunt down him and his entire family Elmer Fudd mafia style. Maybe his wife will wake up tomorrow morning with an owl’s head in her nest. Just sayin’!”
Bargaining - “Fuck you bird!” I skipped bargaining and stayed on anger.
Depression - I stifled back a sob and thought about throwing myself dramatically on the hood of my car and screaming, “I miss my clean car and shirt! Life will never be as good as it was before this!”
Acceptance- Maybe I’ll walk past somebody today and they’ll be like “My God what are you wearing? It’s wonderful!” and I’ll turn to them in slow motion (preferably with a wind machine in the background) and say “Oh that? I’m wearing Bird Shit for Calvin Klein” Than I’ll wink and turn to walk away and fall down a flight of stairs.