Posts Tagged ‘wtf’

302

Posted: November 7, 2014 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , ,

People, over time, have noticed that although I’m fairly animated– very little affects me beneath the surface.  Then again, this shouldn’t be surprising when you take into account the zany shit circus of WTF-moments that tie together the most recent half of my life.  What, you want examples?

  • Let’s see, I attended the funeral of the first girl I ever kissed/dated before I turned 28.
  • I’ve stared down the barrel of a 9mm, and had someone threaten to shoot me.  By the way, those were on entirely separate occasions (process that one for a minute).
  • Oh, there’s also the time I was a fucking groomsman in my ex-girlfriend’s wedding party.
  • How about the fact that, by the numbers, I should probably be dead at least twice?
  • There was that bleary morning where I had the national head of TKE, in New Orleans the week before Katrina hit, introduce me by name to his mother as “the guy with freon in his veins”– you know, after having had a beer with Mick Foley not 10 hours earlier.
  • I could tell the tale of the time I repo-ed a laptop in the middle of a public library.
  • There was the 4 months I spent coming to terms with a misdiagnosis of Lupus.
  • How about when I had to slip the lock at work because my dumb ass accidentally locked my keys in the office– which technically means I solo B&E’d a federal facility.
  • I should also mention that I have had the unsettling experience of calling someone a child-toucher while playing beer pong– only to find out that I was right about five years later.

Then again, these are only a few things that I can mention in public.  Is it any wonder why my lack of fucks to give was foretold in tapestry and lore?

.... what the fuck do you mean "AGAIN"?

It just never stops being funny.

Well I have yet another one to dump into the mix… because on the 5th of November, I swore off a 302 and helped have someone involuntarily sent to in-patient psychiatric care.  That’s right, we had one of our friends committed.  There’s another one I never though I’d add to the mix, and believe you me– it’s a lot less entertaining than the aforementioned examples of fuck and circumstance.

Did I want to drive an hour after working all day to meet up with two other mutual friends just to do the paperwork to summon the ethereal men with white jackets?  Fuck no, I’d rather slam my dick in a car door.   Did I want to feel like I’d violated my personal standards of conduct?  Please, I’d rather that cock-jacking car speed off first.  Seriously, I’m loyal to a fault– and I despise deception and duplicity.

Yet… I had to emulate those very characteristics while talking to this friend frequently for almost three full days.  Such bastardly levels of subterfuge and misdirection are probably a bad sign for me, but I’m going to justify it because all signs pointed towards a life-or-death situation.  That said, I can’t help but appreciate the irony of the situation.

ADMIT IT.

We all assumed that I’D be the one to end up hugging myself.

At least today my phone wasn’t incessantly ringing while at work.  Seriously, all day yesterday, I was cringing at the caller ID.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to partially hide behind a “no cell phone” policy.  I also don’t think I’ve ever been so unnerved by the sound of my own ringtone.

Oh well, back to finishing off that mortgage paperwork.
Come to think of it, the brain-melting fuckery of buying a house just might land me in that canvas embrace after all.

Unplug.