I stopped, briefly, by the liquor store this evening for the small wine tasting they were having. I’ve worked there for months but have yet to attend a tasting. Since I’m not classy (I know, shocker) I couldn’t care less about what they tasted like and went right down the line one after another. I must’ve consumed twelve different wines in mere minutes. But it’s not like they were full glasses. They were like shots of wine. Anyway, they were all pretty nice wines except one salesman was also letting folks try the Ed Hardy Sangria. Look, I detest Ed Hardy the brand, but I love Sangria (the real stuff) and I was dying to try it. So I did. And then I did again. And again.
Right after that I went over to Stop and Shop to pick up a couple of things before heading home. I’m in the store for nanoseconds and I heard it…Quit Playing Games with My Heart. Backstreet Boys. “But I wish I could…so bad…babbbbyyyy, you better…” Holy shizznit. I love me some vintage BSB. So I’m bopping around the store, clearly singing, without a care in the world. And then from the next aisle over I hear a screech like a pissed off bird out of hell. (It was a child. Of course!) And I literally blurt out, “Jesus that sounded like a rape whistle.”
Couple things wrong with doing that: (in this order) 1. I have no idea what a rape whistle sounds like. Is there even such a thing AS a rape whistle? Is it anything like a dog whistle? But why would it be? I would guess you couldn’t really hear a dog whistle, so that wouldn’t help in a situation where you were getting raped. 2. I said it out loud. And I don’t think anyone heard me. But then what if the mom heard me and the kid was actually conceived from a rape and she decided to keep the baby because Justin Bieber told her to? Does anyone even believe for a second that Justin Bieber is getting laid, by the way? I don’t…He doesn’t even look like his testicles fell yet. But then how is he getting an older chick to date him? Oh Selena….he’s such a downgrade from the YUMMY Nick Jonas. And I can call him that now because he is of LEGAL age. Him and the werewolf from Twilight and me. (*Skyrockets in flight. Bew! Afternoon delight!!!*).
I’m back! Girls, is there anything worse than hearing your text message alert go off and hoping it to be one person (or maybe one of two people) and it’s the ”Oh it’s him” guy. UGH!! Seriously. (The reason I bring that up is because it just happened.) I do love text messaging though. Except it can get you into a lot of trouble because God forbid the other person takes a minute longer to respond you’re all “You know what, fuck you then. Ignoring me and shit.” And then poking the shit out of a voodoo doll till all its stuffing pops out.
Did I mention I have been drinking?
Now that I reread the two things wrong with saying “Jesus that sounds like a rape whistle,” I realized I missed one. 3. I probably should not use “Jesus” and “rape” in the same sentence. Right? Yet the Baptists feel okay about using “God” and “fags” in the same sentence. Man, they are such assholes, aren’t they?? I mean the Baptists!! Gosh. I love that Kevin Smith (the director of Clerks and Chasing Amy that only wears oversized hocky jerseys now) got some students to counter protest them once and they held up signs that said “God hates homework.” Haha. I’m certainly not that witty. Bravo, students.
Ok so this post was supposed to be about Lent (reader suggestion), then I’m going to write about people naming their junk (another reader suggestion) and then I was going to write a better song than Rebecca Black’s “Friday”, although I’m not sure I can beat winning lyrics like “Partying, partying, Yeah!” and “Yesterday was Thursday.” But I want to try. Also speaking of songwriting, I totally think it is time for Billy Joel to sober up and write a sequel to “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” Yes, it was always burning since the world’s been turning.
Maybe that’s what I’ll do. I will write the sequel to We Didn’t Start the Fire by the end of the year. What? You didn’t expect that shit like tomorrow did you?
And boom goes the dynamite,
P.S. Can you believe I wasn’t stoned when I wrote this? Wowzers!