Tuesday, September 22, 2009

I Don't Speak Spanish, Japanese or French

But the way your body's talkin' definitely makes sense.

Yo, Jesse McCartney and T Pain. I know your new single, "Body Language" is awesome and busy getting stuck in my head. And Imma let you finish, but just so you know: RICK ASTLEY HAD THE GREATEST EAR WORM OF ALL TIME!

I'm sorry. I had to.

Moving on, then.

So yesterday, I woke up to six missed calls from my house. Six. All from around midnight. Along with a text message from Kels:

"Get the fuck home. She's pissing me off! - That's what mom said"

Seriously? I had been sleeping for two hours. In my bed. At my house. The one from which my mom called me. The one at which I had said, "Goodnight" to said mom when I arrived home around 9:40ish. The one in front of which, my car was parked in plain sight on the driveway.

Whatever, Mom.

So then I went back to sleep because I had a headache and nausea (due to either a cold or allergies) and had a dream that I was at Target with a headache and nausea and I couldn't buy anything because I don't get paid until tomorrow. Plus, the Ex-Limp Noodle showed up and was having lively conversations with my mom.

I can't even catch a break in my dreams. I mean, even last night I dreamed I was gonna be in Jesse McCartney's music video. Except I didn't know the dances and we were right about to start filming and I was holding beef jerky. So weird.

By the way, I'm pretty sure I will make a terrible parent because I totally suck at remembering kids are like, in the room. And either I say something and they ask me what it is or someone else says something and I don't even notice the child's presence to protect their virgin ears.

Case in point: Corey's little brother, Casey whom you might remember from my Kids Say the Darndest Things post.
Well, the other night I'm at Corey's hanging out with him and his cousin, Jason who's telling me a story about an ugly girl which started with a story about ugly strippers. Yeah.

Basically, his friend had shown him a picture the chick had sent to his phone of her, "below parts" (as Jay put it: obviously a classy broad), and Jay liked what he saw, so he stole her number and proceeded to text her. And he chick (still classy as ever) started sending Jay pictures. Except they were of her face.

And chick was hit. We're talking like, Fergie after meth hit. Plus she was grotesquely skinny.
And then ohmygod, I think I still have the pictures on my phone, hang on happens and long story short, he is shoving his phone in my face going, "Look! She's disgusting and skinny!" and I'm all, "Awesome, Jay. Yes, I can see it. Yes, her ass is bony and gross. Please take your phone out of my eyeball. Thanks."
Anyway, he leaps up off the bed in a fit of excitement over the UGLY! LOOK AT THE UGLY! and says, (Remember: His words, not mine.) "She's the kinda girl where you penetrate her (he seriously said penetrate) and you can see it on the outside!"

Then, he starts to pantomime.

He puts up three fingers on his right hand and thrusts them upward (I'm not gonna explain if you don't already know what I'm talking about.) and goes, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Suddenly, from atop the bed a tiny voice shouts excitedly, "THREE!"

Ohmygod. Casey. Hi, yeah. Jay was just telling a math story, yeah. Good job! He is holding up three fingers, yes. Now go upstairs and don't tell your parents what he said.

And then Jay high-fived him.

Internet, this is my life.


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