And He Was Gravely Injured

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I didn't lick my plate, set his house afire or even short-sheet his bed. I failed to insult him. Him being Cupcake. My host in Conneticut. Apparently he was grossly offended that I did not, in my loving and charming way, wittily insult him on my blog. FINE. YOU ASKED FOR IT.

  • He is the slowest driver. Ever. He would NOT take the shoulder in traffic jams and even admitted he is one of the drivers who pulls half-way onto the shoulder to block people wisely take that paticular shortcut. YOU ARE A VERY BAD PERSON. IT IS BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU THAT CHILDREN ARE STARVING IN AFRICA.
  • He wore a striped shirt with a pair of patterned pants. I didn't say anything because he was sick. BUT, GOOD LORD. Do we need to put you into Gymboree clothes with the matching animals? Lions with lions, gators with gators and such. I think, they might even give you a handy little tutorial about MATCHING YOUR ANIMALS. But I don't know if the matching clothes are made in your size. You might want to check on that.
  • Did I mention he was sick THE ENTIRE TIME? Which basically meant I felt guilty the entire time for being there. Even though I offered at least once a day to go home early. I guess I am just that likeable. Or, it could be I AM JUST THAT GORGEOUS.
  • He needs to shoot his dog. I was walking his dog and he wrapped his leash around my knee and RAN. Let me rephrase. He wrapped his leash around my BUM knee and ran. Which meant I was a pathetic cripple for the rest of the visit. Completely and totally pathetic.
  • His cat SLEPT IN MY FACE. As we all now know. I am allergic to cats. So. Let's just shoot all the animals and put everyone out of their misery.
  • He PROMISED to give me a weapon and let me shoot at random objects. Upon seeing me and remember just how... special I am. He refused to give me a gun. Refused to give me a weapon of any sort. Clearing away sharp objects, heavy objects and ropes from my vicinity while speaking in soothing tones and not making sudden movements.
  • He did not eat the required goldfish. That was the bargain. I was to come visit. He was to eat a goldfish. Just think. IF I EVER SEE HIM AGAIN, it will be interest. When you see the headlines: GIANT KILLER GOLFISH STOLEN FROM POND. You will know what happened.

I already metioned leaving-me-on-the-street-corner-to-get-raped episode. But other than that I am rather dissappointed in myself. My scathing comments are pathetic and weak. I am off my form. Maybe I am spending too much time around positive people. Maybe I actually had a good time and FOR ONCE was going to admit it. But. Since that is apparently unacceptable.

PLEASE REMEMBER I AM ONLY ONE PERSON. I can only cause so much trouble at once.

1 Responses to “And He Was Gravely Injured”

  1. Blogger NYCbeauty 

    Agreed one hundred percent. I mean, what can one person possibly do that can effect so much?

    As for googling, I have also had dates do this to me. It's crazy. Is there no privacy anymore? My family is "google crazy" so I knew they would end up with the blog sooner or later....

    Great writing by the way!

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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