Our Father's Mustache

While you may be aware of an internet sensation known as “Stuff People Say” (edited for appropriate-ness), here’s something along those lines. What’s sad is that this isn’t satire or irony; this is reality.

http://vimeo.com/34854330

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good cup of coffee, but this is too much. Seriously? I’d like a large Americano, no room for pride, arrogance, bitterness, or pretentiousness.

And for my closing remark, I’d just like to state that nobody should ever make that face after sipping on their coffee. If you make that face after taking a drink of coffee you may have just been roofied or slipped some kind of mind-altering drug, and should probably seek medical attention. Just saying.

Here are some random facts I think you should know about me. And really, I’m only writing this because everything else I typed was borderline psychotically angry and about some chick who would rather talk to a dog than try to make me feel like I count in the world. Whatever. It was a cute dog, so I find some solace in that.

• I drink when I’m really nervous. If there’s a beverage in front of me and I start to feel insecure with the situation at hand, I will guzzle until there’s nothing left to drink. Water, soda, milk (it’s harder to compulsively drink milk, but if I’m nervous and there’s nothing else around, I WILL DO IT), doesn’t really matter. Case in point; I drank a can of regular coke and a can of diet coke in an hour tonight. I was shaking so hard on the drive home, I thought about calling my brother to get me. I didn’t and I’m fine now.
• I love sleeping. I love it to the point that I bet I could sleep for 24 hours solid and not be sad about that being how I spent an entire day of my life.
• I have Celiac Disease, which, if you read the entry entitled “Paula Dean and Honesty,” you know that gluten does really bad things to me. It’s funny, but the stomach pain is the least of my issues when I ingest gluten. I get intensely emotional, have body cramps (wooo, muscle cramps, yeahhhh!), get a killer headache, and become nearly narcoleptic. It’s so awesome (sarcasm, big time). So, there you have it. Also, I really hate being in a public setting and talking about my symptoms. Even though it seems like I’m okay with admitting to explosive diarrhea, I’d rather not talk about it, say, while we’re at a group lunch for work (just as an example). That’s gross.
• And while we’re on personal space invasions; I don’t mind if you ask about my scars (they are quite prominent), but you have to know that scars that large didn’t come from something minor, right? I mean, you’re asking about two scars on my chest, one of which is four inches long and the other is shorter at one inch, but still pretty noticeable. You have to know that the cause of those is at least a little serious, right? So when you ask where I got my scars and I honestly reply with, “I had cancer and those are the scars from my biopsy and port,” please don’t freak out. Because then I feel bad for answering a question that you asked. Just roll with it. I don’t care if you ask me what kind of cancer I had, what my treatments were, or if I lost my hair, or shaved my head. I don’t mind any of that. I do mind if you get freaked out and stop talking to me. You brought it up, I told you, now we have to chill out and be cool about it.
• I love Roller Derby and get irritated when people say, “oh, that thing where girls pro wrestle while skating?” No offense, but really? It’s like “nearly” full contact speed skating. And for the guys out there who think it’s some kind of kinky girl on girl thing; QUIT IT. It’s hard work and awesomely empowering, and you’re trying to cheapen it.
• I have a highly competitive nature. I will do nearly anything to win/be the best/triumph. It’s what I do.
• Just because I don’t cry a lot and don’t like crying unless I’m by myself doesn’t mean that I can’t handle my emotions. I’d just prefer to work through things on my own.
• I kind of like Tulsa. It’s not a bad place to be for the moment (please note that I said for the moment).

Ok, so while it’s not my most amazing post ever, I’m finally feeling like I can go to sleep. If I regret writing it, I can always delete it in the morning. But I probably won’t, because that’s just not my style.

(Scene: The dressing room at Target; our girl K decided that she would try on some swimsuits after work. Needless to say, that was a really, really bad idea. She decides to text L in an attempt to regain a rational view on the world…)

K: I tried on bikinis at Target.

L: Why would you do that to yourself? You know the lighting at Target is unflattering, and the multiway mirror doesn’t help.

K: I kind of want to die right now.

L: You are beautiful. Do not fall into this trap. Just remember all the “real” girls at Big Splash, and no one looks like a model in real life…except for models, and even they’re airbrushed.

(a few minutes later…)

K: Remember “match.com guy”?

L: Yeah, why?

K: He asked me out via facebook message, wanting to give it another shot…

L: Do NOT make an irrational decision while recovering from bikini shopping! Remember the cargo jeans? JUST SAY NO TO CARGO JEANS! You deserve better.

K: Ok, so I’m not being stupid by turning him down?

L: Do you remember how awkward that first date at Chipotle was? No, you’re not being stupid.

K: This is the second guy to ask me out via Facebook message within the month.

L: Well, at least you’re getting asked out.

K: Not by who I’d like…

L: Patience. Bestie date tomorrow night?

K: YES.

(Yet another reason my best friend is awesome; unconditional and honest support. End scene.)

(Scene: K’s car, discussing her desires for the new year with a friend…)

K: 2012 is the year of being confident; we are strong, fearless, beautiful women!

A: YEAH! THAT’S RIGHT!

K: Well, not physically strong.

A: Obviously.

K: I mean, we couldn’t even open that door and we tried TOGETHER.

A: I wonder if this is why people don’t want to be our friends…

K: Come on, at least we’re funny.

(End Scene)