Welcome to the Weekly Guest Blogger series.
“I need to find a guest blogger for next week…Syd you up for it? Something funny and/or embarrassing?” Erica asked while chatting on Facebook.
Well hell’s bells, anyone who knows me knows that everything in my life is funny, but never embarrassing. I mean, how can you embarrass someone who doesn’t get embarrassed (except for that time when I was in sixth grade, on my birthday, wearing my favorite all pink outfit, sitting in the plastic chair in English class, right next to the boy I had a crush on, and I….)
No people, farts are not embarrassing. Unless they smell. Or unless they can be heard. Then, well, I guess there’s a reason more than one set of cheeks matched the color of my outfit that day. I remember being mortified. I remember knowing that no one would ever think of me as anything other than “the farty girl” ever again in the history of my pitiful life. I guess I figured my life and gaseous moments were more important than Romeo and Juliet (What 6th grader learns Shakespeare anyway?) Thinking back on it, I guess I now know why I hate the Great Bard’s prose so much… But I ramble…
Embarrassment is something that only you can do to yourself. Call someone by the wrong name? I just laugh it off instantly and come up with some weird reason I chose that nickname for them. Or better yet, I invent a favorite cousin that the person reminded me of just then. Take the wrong turn going to my own house (yeah, I did that, with two vans full of people following me through the countryside)? I just calmly explained that I live in such a beautiful area, I wanted them to see the most of it. Fart in Wal-Mart? I just gave the old lady in the wheelchair a look filled with pity and everyone around just felt sorry that the geriatric patient had lost control of her bowels, too.
I don’t know that I can think of a single embarrassing moment I or anyone else has ever had that can’t be brushed off instantly (except Fergie, the time she peed her pants during a Black Eyed Peas concert. Of course, she instantly covered with an excuse. She said it wasn’t pee, that it was sweat, but that had such equal “Ewww Factor” involved, I think I would’ve just doused myself with a bottle of water or cracked a joke about how I was so excited to be on stage with will.i.am and had a total fan girl moment.)
So that leaves me with something funny to write about. I’m no comedian, although people often laugh when they are around me. It’s nice to hear laughter I guess and there’s nothing better than to be the cause of that. The only problem is, I never do/say anything to illicit a laugh. It just turns out that way.
For instance, a few months ago, I had this lovely weird twitch thing going on with my face. Turns out I had a bad tooth that needed pulling, but in the meantime; my entire body would painfully spasm. After a few days of strange looks from my family, they started imitating me. The night my husband was sitting in the living room and decided to show my niece what it was like, he slammed his head into the wall. Now THAT was funny! Joke’s on him though; I had Vicodin to help my pain. He had nothing.
As I sit here trying to think of that one funny story that sums up my life perfectly, I’m taken back to a time when I was filled with teen angst and all the other bull that goes along with it. Life was soooo unfair and everyone was out to get me and I could never do anything right and… I. Just. Wanted. To. Dieeeeeee…. (btw, please reread that last part with the best whine you can muster).
My mother has Multiple Sclerosis. She had every kind of drug you could imagine in that magic mirrored box above the bathroom sink. Retaining water? Check. Muscle spasms? Check. Anything you could think of, it was there. So on that fateful day (please push play on some sappy sad music), I decided to do it. And by do it, I mean check out that medicinal buffet. How exciting for my depressed and seriously emo self that I found TWO full bottles of the same thing! I ate ‘em like candy!
Beautiful white pills that would end all bouts of sadness and make the bad go away. No one could hate on me anymore…. As I lay down on my bed (oh yes, I was quite dramatic), I arranged my blankets around me so I could look peaceful as sleep overtook my body. Wouldn’t you know, I woke up after a fifteen minute power nap and felt NOTHING.
Not because I was dead, mind you, but because I’d just overdosed on ESTROGEN pills. I didn’t die. I didn’t even get sick. I just got boobs and a period. Go ahead and laugh, I sure as heck do! Now, when I look back on things, I see a whole lot of farts and bras…
But hey, the boys tend to overlook it when a double D rips one after eating a burrito…
Leave it to Syd to put the perfect cap on my PMS filled day with a story about ODing on estrogen! I’m so glad it wasn’t something stronger that day…I kinda like having her around. I hope you agree!
Until the next time…I’ll be self-medicating with wine and cookies until the PMS passes.