First, though, I’m going to share a story from two Fridays ago. This particular story is one I’ve been wanting to share since it happened, and it has to do with Becky having a bonfire. Becky and I with fire...enough said. Oh, and then add Patrick, who I’m sure I’ve talked about before, and Nancy, who is awesome and works with Becky, and what do you get? Chaos mixed with hilarity, that’s what.
I took notes on my Twitter, therefore, I can tell you the story in exact quotes, and in order of which this hall happened. So here we go. The events as they happened. The Twitter version first, and then the story that goes with it.
-- We are going to party with fire. This...well, it’s not gonna go well. I can see Becky and I causing issues.
Honestly, y'all, this is self explanatory. I understand you guys don’t know Becky and me, but just imagine two really awesome girls with no coordination, and the ability to sit there doing nothing and still make something within a ten mile radius go wrong just because it knows we’re there and we get a kick out of things that have a mind of their own. Yeah...it’s like that.
-- This was said regarding a dog. "Everyone likes a good ass rub."
I did not say this, people. This was a quote from Nancy. Becky has a dog named Diesel, and this dog tends to love people a lot more than most people love other people. But as we all learned, if you scratch his butt, he stops jumping and loves you from the ground. Needless to say, this still came out wrong.
-- "Maybe we should teach you how to put a condom on before Patrick gets here." Folks, that did not come out right.
And honestly, in my defense, it didn’t. Before Patrick arrived, Becky was giving Nancy some of her clothes and the bag that some of them were in was falling apart, so Nancy and Becky started putting another one over it. This looked bad. Then the condom comments started, and not even from me. Somehow these comments turned to Becky and not knowing how to put on a condom, which turned into me saying that. However, I meant it more as in, we should do it before Patrick gets here because it would be awkward for him to watch three girls mess with a condom, but the way it came out insinuated things that were much funnier. Besides that, none of us had condoms, as we had no reason to. At least I know I didn’t. *Glares questioningly at Becky and Nancy through said blog*
-- The only boy here presumes we’re going to rape him. He’s known us for over a year, and you can’t rape the willing.
Okay, folks, this whole Patrick raping thing dates back to January when Becky and I were making penis cookies for a bachelorette party, and he was helping. And by helping, I mean mixing icing and doing most of the work. Yes, we’re that cool. For some reason Patrick decided that we were going to rape him. Well, not so much me, as Becky. Which she wasn’t, if that counts. Which it doesn’t. Since then he’s stuck with this consensus and it gets me every single time. We know he's just joking, though. I mean...at least I think he is.
-- Well all standing around waiting for the volunteer fireman to come start our fire. Ironic? I think so.
That volunteer fireman would be Patrick. And we were totally waiting for him, because it was dark down where we were going to start the fire, and we were worried we couldn’t do it without hurting ourselves, as we didn't have the proper amount of light. Therefore, it just made sense to let him start the fire. For future reference, this still makes sense. And no, I don’t think he can see in the dark. Neither does Becky. And no again, we couldn't have made the fire before he got there because, you guys, it's Becky and I plus fire. We needed adult supervision. Nancy, the adult, didn't get there until after it was dark. And then once the adult supervision got there, we realized it was far too dangerous with fire and dark for us to even begin to go about this, so we waited for Patrick. So, you see, we're not stupid. In fact, we were just trying not to burn down the neighborhood.
-- Do you want to take anything off before you come in?” “No wonder he’s afraid she’s going to rape him.”
So Patrick arrives and Nancy and I are minding our own business in Becky’s kitchen while she got the door. Okay, that’s a lie. We were not minding our own business. We were eavesdropping, but the door was so close that it was really more like we forgot to turn our ears off. Diesel, as we’ve already established, likes to rape people by jumping on them. And apparently Patrick was in good clothes with not so good clothes underneath, so out rips the first line, said by Becky. At this point, though, all Nancy and I knew was that Becky had just said that to Patrick, therefore, I let the second comment rip. I think it was justified.
-- We’re all sober and Patrick calls Becky instead of his dad, and then thinks she’s his mom.
Okay, look, I think this is probably the most prolific, incredible, I’ll-tell-my-grand kids-this-story-first kind of story. Ever. Let me set the scene. We’re now outside, the fire has just been started, and Patrick is heading to his car to get out a spotlight since the fire is not really started totally as much as half started, but in that I think I’m going to eventually burn, but I haven’t decided yet kind of way. Obviously, light was needed to really get it started enough so that we could make s’mores, and Patrick was on that. In the mean time, Becky was over by the table next to the fire that had all the food on it that was soon to be charcoaled by our talents, and Nancy and I were about fifteen feet away underneath the deck. All of a sudden we hear this noise, only to look over and see Becky lying on the fucking ground. Only, we could barely see her because it was so effing dark and the spotlights didn't shine out to the fire pit. I know. Our response...do we help her? Do we see if she's okay? Hell no. We stood there. We just abso-freaking-lutely stood there. Then we realized she was laughing so hard that she fell over. When we asked her what was wrong, she explained that her phone rang so she answered it, and Patrick goes “Hi, Mom. I was calling dad to let him know that I made it to the bonfire and we just got the fire started.” Becky laughed so hard that she hung up on him when she fell on the ground and landed on her phone. Then, he came down and let us know he called his dad, only to talk to his mom, and his mom hung up on him. God Bless seventeen year olds.
-- Patrick successfully tripped over the grass.
You would think this was self explanatory, but no. While Becky and I were setting up for the bonfire, aka getting the table out and the food on it, she noticed that in the wake of her parents being away, the grass was way longer than she thought it was. She then went on to make the joke that someone was going to trip over the grass. We didn’t think that was actually possible. Good to know we got owned.
- “Crack kills.” “But it’s cute.” “Can I draw a smiley face on it?”
Gees, people! NOT real crack! We don’t get down like that, yo. (The yo was totally unnecessary and I’m the whitest girl in America, but I couldn’t resist.) Becky bent over by the bonfire to make a Mountain Pie, and the next thing I know it Nancy was saying crack kills, Becky was thinking it was cute, and the epic search for a pen began. Okay, so no one went after a pen because no one wanted to walk back into the house, but rest assured had someone wanted to, there would have been a smiley face adorned on the killer crack, as Becky was totally okay with the whole smiley face drawing thing. Actually, I think Becky may have even had a pen to offer up, but it just didn't go there. I love these people.
-- If you can become an arsonist, and then put the fire out before the fire department gets there, you can be a firefighter.
This is not true. Do not try this. And if you do, don’t blame me, because this is me telling you that this is an absolute, bold faced lie. Nancy was saying something about being a firefighter, and the best conclusion I had for people like us who don’t actually want to go through firefighter training, but wondered what it would be like to be a firefighter, was this. We’d be more likely to end up in jail, but I think if one of us could get a fire out before firefighters got there, that still takes talent. Right? Even if we started it? Okay...okay...I see what you mean. Fine. Take all my bad logic away.
-- If I were to go camping, I’d die. Good to know that now.
Look, I had one really bad camping experience when I was younger that I will one day write about. Let’s just say that we had a leaky tent, two parents who fought-causing one to leave and take the food with them, and two full days of rain and leave it at that. But this has nothing to do with that. While trying to make a Mountain Pie for the first time, I successfully managed to not be able to get it out of the pie maker, therefore making the ground eat it, and Patrick offering to make me a new one to stop the insanity. So yes, I stand no chance camping if I’m by myself. However, I did manage to make myself a s’more with only catching the marshmallow on fire once. It was still edible. Yes! I call that successful.
-- “Amy was supervising.” “And by supervising, we mean egging everyone on.”
The situation was as follows. Becky wanted Patrick to go shut the door to the house. He refused. She threatened to rape him if he didn't. He suddenly decided he didn’t care anymore, and was no longer afraid of her. Nancy got involved. They decided between the two of them that they were going to joint rape him. I pondered aloud how they would explain this if anyone, if asked. Nancy told me they would say I was supervising. I told her that would mean I was egging them on. Look, I don’t condone rape, ever. EVER! But we were joking, people! Ha-ha, joke! We would NEVER rape Patrick, or anything to that sort. I’ll make him attest to this if I have to.
-- We’re raping Patrick’s beard. This is on the edge of awesome.
Wow, there’s a lot of rape going on in this post. Fake rape, mind you. No real rape. Don’t get ideas. But anyway, Patrick has this awesome lumberjack beard. Somehow Becky decided to touch it, then Nancy, and then I wasn't going to, but Patrick decided that I had to since the other two had, so I did. Awesome.
-- Best moment ever. Not removing stuff off a table and Patrick trying to drink the Pepsi when the bottle gained a hole.
In our world, logic is moving a coffee table before taking all the stuff off of it, because it’s dark and we just didn’t feel like it. In the real world, this means many things will take off from the table, one being an almost full bottle of Pepsi. That bottle will then get a hole in it, squirt everywhere, Patrick will pick it up and try to drink as much as he can out of that hole before giving up and taking my end of the table since I’m short, and we lost the bottle while going down steps because I couldn’t hold the table level. Well, if that’s all it takes to get someone else to carry a very light table for you, I’m in. Just attack a bottle of Pepsi. I’m learning things here left and right.
-- “So, how was it?" Patrick’s reaction; head down, shaking.
Nancy and I made our way upstairs, and, like good guests, left Becky and Patrick to put all of her brother’s stuff back on the table we had creatively borrowed for the bonfire. All of a sudden some funky noises started coming from down there. When Patrick finally made his way back up, no Becky in sight, the comment was irresistible. How could I not insinuate? After all, wasn’t that the theme of the night? Why yes. Yes it was.
Perhaps, one of the funnier things that happened, second in line to Patrick thinking Becky was his mom, was something I forgot to even Tweet about. Man, I am slipping. Anyway, after all of the above happened, Nancy, Patrick and I were standing around in the kitchen talking. Becky was putting stuff in Nancy's car at this moment, and Patrick was waiting for his dad to come and get him. Although Patrick drove, it was after eleven, and since he's under eighteen, by state law he has to be off the road at eleven, or have a parent or guardian with him. Therefore, his parents were going to drive behind him, and if he got pulled over, explain the situation to a cop and say they were condoning him driving, but that's neither here nor there.
All of a sudden, Patrick looks up and goes, confused, "My dad must be here." There's then a pause before he goes, "I sent him a text saying that he could come. He said he already did." Then Patrick decided to go outside and look for his dad. He was just totally flabbergasted that his dad was there and he missed him pulling in. Only his dad wasn't there, and that was definitely NOT what he missed. But Nancy and I caught it and cracked up immediately after he left, realizing that one flew right over Patrick's head. Then Becky comes flying in the door, hysterical, and while we're all standing there laughing like boobs, Patrick comes back in and goes "Huh, my dad's not out there. Strange." And then he got it. I said it once and I'll say it again. God bless seventeen year olds.
See, don’t you wish you were friends with us? On second thought, don’t answer that. I would also like to reiterate that we were not drunk. There was zero alcohol at the bonfire, or involved, or in any of our systems. This is us sober. Scary, ain't it?
And, like I promised at the beginning of this post, here are some quotes from my life of technology, starting with texts. My additional comments are in parenthesis, if I have any. And for most, I do.
-- OMG! OMG! There’s a commercial where a pothole with a southern accent is apologizing for giving a car a flat tire. I’m in love. (Seriously. AND, the pothole is a girl. Like, a young girl. We’re talking a girl who sounds to be like sixteen or so, meaning that the commercial is meant to sound like the pothole is just learning how to be part of the road, and accidentally caused an accident much like a sixteen year old new, female driver would.)
-- I love Royal Pains. “Yes, put me on hold. Awesome! Because there’s nothing I like more than the musical stylings of Liza Minnelli when all my money is missing." (If you haven’t seen this show, I would say start watching, but the first season just ended. It’s on USA, though, and if you catch re-runs, go for it. That I condone. It’s totally awesome enough to replace Monk when it goes off the air. Damn, Monk. I will miss you.)
-- Wait. Thinking was an option? And Supercalifragilisticexpealadoshes. Only spelled correctly. If there’s a right way to spell that. (I could have searched the correct way to spell that, but that really defeats the purpose of half of the text. This is exactly how I spelled it in the text.)
-- There’s a new movie called “I Can Do Bad All By Myself.” Why do I fell like it was made for me?
-- It’s like he went all out with the women’s clothing, and then was like, “Oh, never mind. I’m not that committed.” (I was going to explain which commercial this came from, but I’ll let your mind wander on that. It’s better that way.)
-- They’re also reporting he was buried yesterday, or was being buried today. I can’t remember which, but logic tells me someone is wrong. You can’t autopsy a buried man. (Concerning DJ AM, and the messed up press about his death. R.I.P Adam Goldstein.)
-- Awkward. I just got a Panic At the Disco newsletter. Obviously I never signed up for the mailing list, as I had no reason to. Someone is screwing with me. I’m thinking Pete? And yes, that’s a question.
-- It’s funny, but very awkward. I’m like “Holy Shit. Why do I need a newsletter and who signs up for these things?” But more importantly, why do those two have a newsletter? I mean, I adore Brendon, but no. He’s not newsletter worthy. (This was strongly followed by an IM to someone that was along the lines of, "Panic At the Disco is two people. Basically, they are paying someone to make a newsletter about two people, and not doing it themselves. This boggles my mind." However, Brendon is adorable and I’m sorry that I don’t feel he’s newsletter worthy. Same with Spenny. In my defense, I'm not newsletter worthy either, thus why I'm not paying someone to write a newsletter about me. But in Brendon's case, unless he’s showing some skin, he’s so not. Or, even better, if he’s writing new music we haven’t heard yet, instead of using a newsletter to shove New Perspective back down our throats for the ninetieth time, then that’s even more awesome. I like the song, but let’s cool it a little. K? Peace? Also, don't you love how I just contradicted myself by adding a link to the song? Awesome.)
--I just noticed something. My own texts frighten me. Do they frighten you, too, or am I the lowest common denominator in this consensus?
--Somewhat. Lol. (I love Becky, in case I’ve never mentioned. I was kind of shocked that I frightened her, but okay with it, as the next text will tell you.)
-Yes! Frightening people who have known me for twelve years! That’s a personal all time high / low for me, depending on how you look at it.
--Oh gees. Again? I missed the first time. Do we know why? And by we, I mean you.
--You did tell me about that before. I forgot. Ya sober short term memory. (Is it sad that these two go together, and both were regarding a speed trap on a really small, back road around here? Yep, this is how we do it in PA. Screw highways. Let’s set speed traps on roads that get two people down them a day. Much like how they’re widening part of the road that gets about ten travelers a day, because they feel they need four more lanes, and they also feel they need to do it at night and keep us all awake.)
--On this HGTV show, there’s this beyond nerdy guy with this knockout girl, and you’re like WTF? And then she talks and she’s dumber than a doornail and rude all at the same time, and it suddenly makes total sense. Oh, and she always wears the exact same outfit only in different colors. I’d almost rather see her dress like Ryan. I’ve never said that before. Ever. (Look, I can’t make this shit up. Also, I know this sounds harsh, but you had to see the episode. You really, really had to. This is nice.)
-- Take a picture and turn it into the website People of Wal-Mart. (In no way should there EVER be a reason to say this. Ever!)
-- It confuses me that people are all, “Yes, this is awesome!” I want to be like, “Dumb ass, you are losing money AND excited!” (This could go with so many things that I won’t even bother to explain.)
-- We’re watching Storm Stories, and this tornado was coming through, so the guy yelled to his wife to get outside to the storm drain and hide. The reason she didn’t? She couldn’t find her shoes, so she stayed in the house. Bitch, if a tornado was coming my way, I’m running like hell without the shoes. Fuck the shoes. (Seriously? Run without shoes, Bitch! You have less of a chance of dying if you actually go hide somewhere instead of staying where you are for lack of shoes. Fortunately for her, she lived. I was shocked and scared a little for man kind, but very, very happy for her.)
Sadly, I closed out my IM windows without saving them, even though I had some freaking awesome material in them and am pissed at myself. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s everywhere. But again, I digress. I’ll give you my good Tweets and we’ll call it a night. Again, additional comments are in parenthesis. What I love about this segment is, if you follow me on Twitter, you will now understand my Tweets. Not that you wanted to, or my explanations help, but we’re working in theory.
-- Who said “Let’s take out ‘go down on me,’ from the new Panic song, but add a lesbian kiss and violence to the video?" Good going, Chief! (Okay, let’s address this. There’s a nice, normal version of the Panic video, and then there’s the one made for for MTV. with video footage from the movie the song was made for, Jennifer’s Body. However, in this version they take out the line where Brendon sings “go down on me.” Look, I’m all about that for obvious reasons. No one needs that visual. (Or am I the only one with that problem?) However, that’s like one of the mildest things that’s ever been said on MTV, so it still makes no sense. What really makes no sense is that they proceeded to add not only a lesbian kiss to the video, but a ton of violence, too, when the first video was visually free of all of that. Well, unless you count a bunch of cheerleaders going after a Gothic girl, which I don’t. That Gothic girl could take their asses, so it wasn’t a fair fight. I love Gothic chicks in a totally platonic way. But anyway, I know you now want to see the newly screwed up version, you perverts, you. So here. And when you’re done being perverts, here’s the original version. Tell me how they actually managed to make the second version cleaner and better for MTV. Really, I’d like to know. Because they didn't. They're all pervs.)
-- I’m living in a parallel universe today, where automated systems take me to the incorrect place, and my grandma has less of a life than me. (In my defense, usually the automated systems at my doctor’s office defy all logic and actually work. And my grandma does usually have more of a life than me. So you can see how, on this actual day, things were pretty backwards. Maybe someone actually implemented backwards day and just forgot to tell me.)
-- Things I want to know; If there is no music provided while you are on hold during a phone call, is it appropriate to make your own? (Well, is it?)
-- “So what we’re saying is I look like a mix between a Polish Church and Rainbow Brite?” “Yes.” (Thanks Mom and Aunt Bev. Thanks a whole lot. Prior to you two, I only resembled Rainbow Brite. In my defense, these were my pajamas I was wearing. The ones no one sees. I wouldn’t dress like this is public. Probably.)
--If I had a dollar for every time I said “make it work,” or “what would Tim Gunn do?” in a day, I’d never have to work again. (True story.)
--Listening to Kelly Osbourne. Does anyone but me actually do this? (The answer is yes. In case you were wondering. Oh, you weren’t? Tough titties!)
-- I’m watching a special on Miley Cyrus. This is what my life has become. Someone adopt me and make it awesome. (I’m 23, in case you forgot.)
I’ll just leave you with that for now. But I will be back. And yes, that is a threat. And just to be clear, I’m threatening to blog again. Not to come to your house or anything like that.
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