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I Hate! You So Much! Right Now!

I’m in a weird, cranky-ass mood today. This is not helped by the fact that a., it is extremely hot outside, like boil your face off hot (and before you’re all “shut up shut up it’s summer it’s supposed to be hot I hate people that complain about the weather it’s going to be so cold this winter” LISTEN! I have no THYROID! Therefore, NO INTERNAL THERMOMETER! When I am cold, I am FREEZING! When I am hot, I am BOILING! So go have thyroid removal surgery because you have pre-cancerous tumors in one of YOUR glands, and deal with not only no real ability to feel what the real temperature is, AND a scar across your throat that looks like you came out the loser in a knife fight, then come and talk to me about the weather!) and b., work issues that I’m not going to go into because we all know the old story about “and then my boss who was more Internet savvy than I knew read my blog and I found myself on the bread line” (yes, yes, I know, there’s no more “bread line,” per se, it’s a saying, you literalist) and c., personal issues that again, I’m not going into, but this time, because they’re no one’s business but mine and the people involved. So anyway, I’m pissy. I’m majorly effing pissy. 

So today, here are three things that make me laugh, in an effort to cheer myself out of my mood. I have no idea if they will make you laugh. I’m actually pretty sure they won’t. And I don’t really care, to be honest. Sorry. Everyone else seems to be in a glorious skipping-around tra-la-tra-lay mood today. I assume because it’s Friday. So if you’re already in a great mood, you won’t need these stories. You can just, I don’t know, think about your amazing life, or something, and go pet your rainbow kitten unicorn you keep in your magical backyard garden. 

Example The First 

“Suck It, Mouse” 

A few years ago, my roommate came home with a shoebox of baby mice. Honestly, right now, I’m not remembering where they came from. I mean, I don’t think she went hunting for them, or anything. There’s a good chance she got them from the Humane Society where she volunteered to take care of them for a few days, but don’t quote me on that. 

Our cats went NUTS. What do you expect? They’re cats. They wanted those mice. Those mice smelled delicious to them. So we had to hide the shoebox in our closet when we were sleeping or the cats would get into it and have a baby mice buffet. Even then, when the baby mice would squeal, the cats would position themselves outside the closet, knowing damn well there was live dinner inside, and why the hell weren’t we letting them eat it? We always encouraged them to eat mice! Why not these mice? Very confusing times for the cats. 

My roommate (and by extension, me, because I’m always up for wildlife rehabilitation) had to feed the baby mice while they were in our care. I think we had some sort of soy-based milk product or something, and an eye-dropper. But the baby mice were not interested. They wanted their mom, who was obviously not around. We tried and tried to feed the mice but they weren’t eating. Finally, I said, in exasperation, “Suck it, mouse!” about the milk on the eyedropper. My roommate and I were exhausted and exasperated and this struck us as the funniest thing that had ever been said. We repeated this to death. “Suck it! SUCK IT…” It became an insult we’d say sometimes. “Oh, suck it, mouse.” 

I don’t remember what happened to the mice. I think we handed them off to someone more experienced in the ways of mice-handling. I don’t think our cats ate them. I’m pretty sure I’d remember if our suck it, mice had ended up in our cat’s bellies. 

Example the Second 

“Where do you want to go? Ponderosa?” 

I rode the bus to school from kindergarten to senior year because I lived in a rural area and didn’t have a car. This was not an enjoyable experience, mainly because mostly asshole children rode my bus. Not all of them, but mostly. Mostly bully asshole children. They’d catcall you, throw things at you, shove you when you tried to get by, refuse to let you sit so you had to stand the entire ride with your heavy backpack smacking your legs every time the busdriver went around a curve, put things in your hair, all the usual annoying shit. And the busdriver couldn’t do much – he had enough to do, making sure the bus stayed on the road. Also, the same bus drove every grade, kindergarten through seniors. So he was a little more concerned in keeping the children safe than the teenagers.

One family was just the worst. Three kids, each worse than the last. An older sister (who luckily graduated when I was quite young), a boy a little younger than me, and a girl a bit younger than him. They were about my brother’s age. They were mean. Really, really mean. Shove you to the ground and make you lick the bus floor mean. Scary-looking and frightening and mean. They were like a pack of rabid wolves when they got together. I’m not going to say their last name – that’s a good way to get sued – but it was ironic, which is funny, because it was something like Correct. So I’m going to call them the Corrects. Can they sue me for that? Probably. Good luck garnishing my subsistence-level wages, suckers! 

The youngest Correct girl got it in her head to taunt my next-door neighbor, who was, overall, a quiet kid who didn’t bother anyone much. She made his life a living hell. She was on him the minute he got on the bus to the minute he got off. He took it – we all did, they were really kind of psychotic – until one day, he’d just had enough. 

Her thing was “Do you wanna GO?” She’d say this a lot. I think it meant fight. Like, if this were a western, “Would you like to take this outside?” She’d say it constantly. You’d walk past her and she’d imagine she saw you looking at her in a way she didn’t like so she’d get up in your face all, “You wanna GO? You wanna GO?” And you’d be kind of confused about why? And where? And what will we do, exactly, when we get there? No one ever went, by the way. There was no going. Everyone always backed down. She was scary like a snake. You stayed right away from Little Miss Correct. 

One day, she was leaning over my neighbor’s seat, in his face, screaming at him about something, and he was just sitting there, trying to talk to whoever he was sitting with, and she was so loud, and she wouldn’t stop, and finally, he muttered, under his breath, “Shut UP.” Oooh! You didn’t do that! You didn’t do that to Miss Correct! She went RED.  

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME? DO YOU WANNA GOOOOO? DO YOU WANNA GOOOOOO?” She screamed in his face. 

Neighbor, who had been eating this shit silently for months, finally was full. He stood – he was a big kid, quiet, so you kind of forgot that, but big, and faced her, head on. 

“YES! LET’S GO! WHERE DO YOU WANNA GO? DO YOU WANNA GO TO PONDEROSA? I’M STARVING, LET’S GO THERE, OK?” 

(Ponderosa, for those of you who aren’t from anywhere near me, was an all-you-can-eat steakhouse/buffet restaurant.) 

She just stood there, dumbfounded. I was in hysterics. This struck me (and still does, over twenty years later) as just about one of the funniest things ever. We’ve all been there – wanting to give someone a snappy comeback, but nothing comes to mind – but Neighbor WENT THERE. And what came out was COMPLETELY BALLS-TO-THE-WALL-BATSHIT-INSANE. 

And Miss Correct WALKED AWAY. And didn’t bother him again. I think she decided he was nuts. Also, I’m pretty sure she realized that “Do you wanna go?” meant she had to have a destination in mind. Every time I saw her after that, I’d think of her face when Neighbor came out with “Ponderosa? Want to go there?” and crack up. 

Example the Third 

“Free Refills” 

When I came home from college freshman year, I was prevailed upon to drive my brother and his best friend to the movies. They wanted to see Beavis and Butthead do America. I didn’t care – it got me out of the house and I was glad to use my shiny new license. We got to the theater and got a large bucket of popcorn. Brother’s friend noticed that it came with one free refill. 

“We better use that,” he said.  

“This popcorn is HUGE,” I said. “We’ll never get to the end of it. I guess we could get more after the movie.” 

My brother and his friend decided they didn’t want to interrupt the movie to get up and get more popcorn during the movie, and that it would be hysterical to go up, ten minutes after getting a gigantic tub of popcorn, and get a free refill, because the girl behind the counter would think we were piggish. So brother and friend (and I, although I didn’t help much) started to eat. Popcorn was flying. At one point, friend put his face in the bucket and ate like the little piggies do in A Christmas Story. They got to the bottom of the bucket and he got up to get the refill, excited to see what the girl at the counter would say. 

He came back with the full bucket a few minutes later. “What did she say?” my brother said. 

He shrugged. “She looked at me weird, but she gave it to me.” When I looked at him, I realized why she’d looked at him weird – the kid’s face was covered with popcorn. There was a full kernel of popcorn embedded in his beard. There was butter all over his face. He looked like he’d bathed in popcorn, and he’d walked up there not even aware of it. Now, I can guarantee you this is not funny to anyone but me. But this kid’s face covered in popcorn never fails to crack me up. I KNOW it’s not funny, shut up. But to me, it’s the best. 

So there. Three things that never fail to cheer me up. I’m still cranky as shit, though. I might need to punch someone in the neck really hard. Do not get too close to me! Danger, Will Robinson! Unless you’re bringing me an iced coffee, decaf, cream and 4 Splenda. In which case, I will not only NOT punch you in the neck, I might be your friend forever. Oh, what do you MEAN, this is going to change your mind? GET BACK HERE WITH MY ICED COFFEE. 

Side note, which has nothing to do with my utter bitchiness today – Kevin Marshall, who is awesome and I don’t like anyone so that’s saying a lot, really, is raising money for the Special Olympics. He’s got incentives to donate, or you can make him an offer and he might do it. So check this out, and drop him a donation, which, although I cannot guarantee would jolly me out of this shitty mood, would help him/the Special Olympics, which are more important than my crappy mood, anyway.
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About lucysfootball

I'm not the girl with the most cake. Someday. SOMEDAY. View all posts by lucysfootball

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