So one day -- this is during a school vacation, so I'm sleeping in late -- I'm in my bed, at say 11:00 AM. I'm in one of those half asleep states, wondering if I should even get up at all today. And then my mom kicks the door in, slamming it against the wall.
"Ben... WHAT THE FUCK?!"
I rub my eyes a little, lift myself up, and yawn. Why am I not freaking out you might ask? Well, my mom borders on psychotic sometimes. Not really fully psychotic, more like wicked bitchy with the mood swings, and the constant PMS. But close enough to psychotic for my purposes. So I'm sitting up, and with the gentle little sarcasm I've fine tuned over the years that pisses PMS mode mom off infinitely I say, "Yeah... what the fuck mom?"
She gets that disgusted, look in her eyes, like I just shoved a knife in her heart, and says, "Ben... where... are the fucking... EGGS?!"
This one caught me a little off guard. I can see her bitching about some things, but eggs? Oh well. I decided to just keep talking. "In the fridge?"
"No, Ben... if they were in the fucking FRIDGE I would have FOUND them by now. Someone ate the fucking EGGS!"
Well duh someone ate them. What the fuck do you do with eggs besides eating them, painting them, and throwing them a people? So I said... possibly not the smartest thing I said all day, "No shit."
She went crazy on me, cursed and yelled like someone was killing her or something. Then she says, "There are only 2 fucking eggs left!"
So I say... "Oh, you found them?"
Well after that, she went Churnoble, then left and bitched at my brother and stepdad in rapid succession. I hear her slam the door, and the bitching stops, so I go back to bed. A few hours later, I wake back up and go downstairs. My mom is there, happily pulling muffins out of the oven.
What a psycho bitch.
Hula Dolls
So I was sitting in driver's ed class and we get asked what a distraction inside the car might be. Immediately I thought of those little bobble hula dancers. Damn, those things piss me off. Then I thought... why do they have to be women all the time? Why can't there be male hula dancers? Yeah, we should make a guy hula dancer... that would be cool.
Then, I got to thinking a little harder. Why do they have to all be Hawiian? And why do they have to wear grass skirts? How racist and conformist. You know, if you really wanted to make a politically correct hula dancing bobble it wouldn't be a Hawiian woman in a grass skirt... oh no...
It'd be a manly Scott clad in the kilt of his clan!
Well, being Scottish myself, and this occuring to me, the only thing I felt I could do was get to my feet and start doing a hula dance in the middle of class. Some wigger called me gay.
Well, I simply told him I wasn't gay, I was just secure enough in my manhood that I could have sex with other men and not mind at all. Now this all happened at one of those happy, convinient times when the room goes quiet.
I'd like to take this time to tell you about my driver's ed teacher. His name is Guay. Glen Guay. You pronounce that Gay. As in I like it up the butt gay, except he doesn't like it up the butt (I think.) He's also a cop, so we can refer to him as Seargent Guay. I wish he got a promotion so I could call him Major Guay.
Well, anyways, I don't think he takes kindly to the word gay being used as an insult, and he gets up, and yells at me, and threatens to kick me out of the class for being disruptive.
I don't know about you guys, but I think that was Major Guay.