i'd rather see Johnny Depp naked and dripping chocolate
April 13, 2008
The “party” at Cool Co-Worker’s house was really more of what I would call a low-key get-together…with alcoholic beverages. Which was what I was expecting anyway. We’re not really hard-partying people. Most of us are well on our way to the big 3-0…if we’re not already there (case in point: Cool Co-Worker’s husband who has already by-passed the 30-mark and is well on his way to collecting social security…I joke…).
And those alcoholic beverages? I didn’t touch a single one. My drink of choice for the evening was a bottle of berry-flavored water I bought at a gas station on the way there. Which proves that I am lame...and forever secures my title of Least Likely To Party Like A Rockstar.
Slim heckled me for being “late.” Which I was, you know. Fashionably so. Cool Co-Worker specifically said six-ish. And to me, this means anytime between 6 and 6:59. I arrived promptly at 6:27. So I informed him that only losers show up to parties on-time…and if he disagreed, then he could just suck my big fat hairy left one.
We played a rousing game of Mad Gab, which, if you have never played it…let me tell you…it is the quickest way to feel like a retard you will ever find. Seriously, I think my IQ must have dropped about 50 points just by opening the box and reading the first game card out loud. It was sort of like trying to decipher comments left by the semi-literate set who frequent the likes of I Can Haz Cheezburger.
Jesus Boy brought his Wii. And there was much rejoicing. I think that my carpal tunnel has reached a new level of asshole this morning because of it.
At midnight, I cut out…kind of like Cinderella. Except I did not have the threat of my car turning into a pumpkin looming over my head or anything.
Which reminds me…my fucking car was being a cock. Cool Co-Worker’s driveway happens to be very steep…like, ridiculously so. So much so that I had to set my parking brake. Which I NEVER do. Like, EVER. So, yeah, I was a little concerned about the possibility of my vehicle rolling backwards and taking out a set of stately mailboxes…not to mention the freaking HUGE picture window on the front of the house across the way. I did not think these people would react kindly to my big purple car buried balls deep in their living room.
Anyhow, I took off the parking brake and attempted to put my car in reverse. And absolutely nothing happened. My car would not switch fucking gears. Oh. My. God. This car is barely three years-old. What the fuck did I do to it? This is what I get for trying to be safe. Safe gets you NOWHERE. Stupid parking brake. I knew you were fucking EVIL! So I reset the parking brake, turned off the car, turned on the car…took off the parking brake…made DAMN SURE my foot was on the regular brake…and tried again. And again. And fucking AGAIN! No luck. Oh Christ! I’m gonna have to ask someone for help and look like a douchebag. I can’t look like a douchebag!
And then as I was gracefully freaking out, The Boyfriend called to confirm that I was still coming over. And I meant to. As soon as my car stopped being a fucking cock.
Finally, after nearly wrenching my arm from its socket, I got my car in reverse and backed very slowly and carefully down the satanic driveway and onto the road. I say slowly because I absolutely suck at backing up…anything. I don’t care how big or small the piece of equipment is, I always misjudge and tend to wind up flattening things that should generally be left unflattened.
So, after all of that, I managed to make it to The Boyfriend’s parents’ place, where he was waiting for me (since his brother still has his crap thrown all over their new apartment rendering it free and void of all surfaces conducive to sitting). We curled up on the couch and watched Sweeny Todd, which was funny…but utterly gross. And I must say that, although Johnny Depp looks unspeakably sexy covered in blood…or anything really…I am not much of a fan of throat-slitting and the grinding and subsequent consumption of human entrails.
I fell asleep toward the end of the movie, and we ended up staying and sleeping at his parents’ house for a few hours upstairs in his nephew’s bedroom. After his younger brother implored us, “Oh God! Please don’t screw in there! It’s a kid’s room, you know!”
To which I replied, “I’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours, you douchebag! I just want some fucking sleep!”
Such a loving family atmosphere. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. (And just for the record, I like his younger brother.
And now I am doing laundry and readying myself for a return to the perpetual grindstone tonight. Manual labor, you are my bitch lover!
