Telling Stories

If you start telling me a story that you’ve told me more than once, I will join you and we will say it together, in unison. I have a hard-enough time paying attention to anybody at any time for any reason so try to keep it entertaining. A few lovely individuals have shared some real gems with me.

These stories are not only entertaining, but they also explain why I’m friends with these women…

Let’s say you woke up late, quickly got your kid ready for school, got in the car and rushed to the drop off line. Feeling disheveled, but relieved that he made it relatively on time, you run around to his door to let him out and say goodbye. Maybe you got a few side eyes because you didn’t have time to fix your hair. Jeez. You think about how other parents can be so judgmental, then pull into your garage. As you walk into your room, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and then you see it. See through pants. This wouldn’t be so bad if you had been wearing anything underneath them, but of course you weren’t. You have now gone to third base with the Assistant Principal, the Yard Duty teacher, a few parents and their kids.

I advised her that she may need to register as some kind of offender. I’m not sure what category this falls into.

Next up, a gold medalist in embarrassing herself and sharing it with me. Why she continues to give me weapons for my arsenal even though she knows I will use it later, I’ll never know.

Equality is important. When having a gathering at your home and everyone is drinking out back, why should women have to go inside to pee while the guys just walk over to a bush?? It seems unfair so maybe it’s time you took a stand or popped a squat. That is exactly what she did. Dropping trou and wisely bracing herself against the stucco wall in her backyard, she relieved herself like the lady she is. If only she didn’t have to pee for so long. She will forever be reminded of her bravery by the long scratches, blood and bruising she incurred on her backside. Not to mention, splashing into the puddle that accumulated just underneath her. Step aside bra burners, nobody puts baby in a corner! Bless your heart.

The following story is the one I can relate to the most.

Amazon is an addiction. We woman know this, we struggle. Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that you’ve had a few adult beverages and decide to do a little Amazon shopping. What could go wrong? Everything. All the things can go wrong. Sometimes it works out and you get a lovely surprise gift to yourself from yourself and sometimes you buy personalized gifts for your husband with his name misspelled. Hopefully, one day, he’ll stop asking you who in the hell Jafon is.

Now, I’m not saying that I don’t want to hear about how having Irritable Bowel Syndrome has been a real challenge for you, but I REALLY DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT. However, if you crap your pants, absolutely tell me. That’s the shit I live for.

I feel a little hypocritical because I will listen to some people’s stories over and over and never tire of them. I love these humans so it’s ok. My boyfriend tells the story of living in a cave in Spain with a donkey and something about a gypsy and it thrills me to no end. As soon as he says it, people look at me for confirmation that this is factual. I nod and say, “I know, it’s crazy, but it’s true”. Mind you, I was not there and cannot actually attest to it being true, but I oblige, nonetheless. 

This last one is not from any of my people. This is a disturbing story about a woman who clearly doesn’t know the line between just enough and too much information. By some evil twist of fate, she has come into a portion of my life. I assume this is punishment for every wrong thing I have done in life ever. When I asked how she was doing, she proceeded to tell me about her raging UTI. That seemed bad enough, but it did not end there. While making small talk with a pal of mine, she was again asked how she was doing and her response was, “you know, JUST LIVING ON VAGISIL”.

WHY??

This is information that nobody needs. What kind of response should one have to that Vagina Monologue? “Well, you’re in my prayers”? Our Lord and Savior doesn’t want to know that. The angels covered their holy ears. The devil himself is blocking your entrance to hell because it’s JUST TOO MUCH. I need you to never speak about your nether regions in the presence of others.

I’ve taken the liberty of reporting you to Homeland Security because if this isn’t terrorism, I don’t know what is.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *