On Hurling and Lesbian Night....
I drove to work today. I was almost killed by two different metro buses and a cement truck. Oh and a dumb bitch in a beetle. I.HATE.METRO.BUSES. How's that for emphasis? I hate dumb bitches too, but not as much as I hate metro buses. I really do feel that I have become a happier person since I stopped driving to work, as the events of this morning proved to me.
Why did I drive to work today you ask? Because I feared for the lives of the people on the metro that's why. And why would I need to fear for such a thing? Because I woke up this morning a whole new shade of green, and did not feel that my stomach could handle the metro. Now you're wondering how this could affect the lives of metro riders. Obviously I was feeling hurlacious, but if you think hurling is nasty, and chances are you do, you will never be prepared for Menace hurling.
See I have an irrational fear of vomit. It's true that it mostly applies to other people performing this atrocious act, but I don't react well to my own vomit either. If someone else yaks, or if I hear/see/smell it, I freak out to absurd and abnormal proportions. Usually I hyperventilate and take off running in whatever direction gets me farthest away from the source of the offense, there have been occasions where I've come close to passing out. I didn't ride a rollercoaster until I was like 15 because I was afraid someone would barf on me. I realize it's ridiculous so I don't need you to point it out to me, thanks. You know what happened to me my very first night in my dorm my freshman year of college? A dude puked all over my legs. It wasn’t pretty. I have successfully blocked most of the incident out of my memory completely.
But anyways, when I vomit it is accompanied by a whole slew of dramatics that include wailing, moaning, coughing, crying, groaning and yes, hyperventilating. It is the most painful experience in the world to me. I would rather get 40 shots in my ass then have to vomit, ever. Ok maybe I'm exaggerating a little, I don't think I'd like 40 shots in my ass either. But because God likes to mock me (read above incident about my first night in college) I have the queasiest, most irritable stomach known to man. This means I hurl a lot. ESPECIALLY after a night of boozin’.
Ah, booze. Here I am revisiting this topic, AGAIN. I swear I am not usually such an alkie.
See I ended up drunk last night. This was not the goal mind you, the goal was to hang out with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while to catch up. The setting was Gazuza in Dupont. Ridiculously overpriced sushi and martinis were had by all. The Scoop Nazi from Larry’s joined us. Then hookahs became involved. And shots of Patron. And like 3 goose and tonics. It was safe to say we all became pretty inebriated, pretty quickly, which is why I woke up feeling so hurlacious that I couldn’t even ride the metro for fear of exposing DC to my horrible puke-phobia. Anyways, that Scoop Nazi is one funny motherfucker I’ll tell you what. I feel like I did crunches yesterday or some shit, my abs hurt from laughing so much.
Did I mention that Wednesday at Gazuza is lesbian night? We had no knowledge of this. Apparently my dinner date noticed, but I certainly didn’t. I wear glasses. I need them to see things that are far away. If you are too far away from me then you are a blur and in order to see you I will have to squint a lot, but obviously I don’t do that unless absolutely necessary b/c I don’t want wrinkles at such an early age. Duh. Anyhow, I do not wear my glasses very frequently, in fact I don’t even know where they are at the moment. I really only used them in school or while driving. And I get along fine without them while driving, I don’t care what my passengers have to say about that. That’s besides the point, the point is that I didn’t have my glasses on. And I kept seeing a group of men at the bar staring at me. I wasn’t in vixen mode so I wasn’t too interested, I was all about catching up with my old buddy that night. Then I saw an old friend who happens to be gay who pointed out to me that it was lesbian night. I looked around. The place was packed. With all women. Those men ogling me at the bar? Those weren’t men. Those were butch lesbos my friends. I was ogled by lesbians, and I am so blind that I didn’t even realize it. Needless to say some of the evening’s events made a lot more sense after we realized this. I thought I was just meeting really friendly, outgoing women. Sometimes I am denser than a dictionary.
And now I get to drive home. I swear, if any fucking metro buses cross my car’s path, I might just explode in a blurry blonde rage.
Why did I drive to work today you ask? Because I feared for the lives of the people on the metro that's why. And why would I need to fear for such a thing? Because I woke up this morning a whole new shade of green, and did not feel that my stomach could handle the metro. Now you're wondering how this could affect the lives of metro riders. Obviously I was feeling hurlacious, but if you think hurling is nasty, and chances are you do, you will never be prepared for Menace hurling.
See I have an irrational fear of vomit. It's true that it mostly applies to other people performing this atrocious act, but I don't react well to my own vomit either. If someone else yaks, or if I hear/see/smell it, I freak out to absurd and abnormal proportions. Usually I hyperventilate and take off running in whatever direction gets me farthest away from the source of the offense, there have been occasions where I've come close to passing out. I didn't ride a rollercoaster until I was like 15 because I was afraid someone would barf on me. I realize it's ridiculous so I don't need you to point it out to me, thanks. You know what happened to me my very first night in my dorm my freshman year of college? A dude puked all over my legs. It wasn’t pretty. I have successfully blocked most of the incident out of my memory completely.
But anyways, when I vomit it is accompanied by a whole slew of dramatics that include wailing, moaning, coughing, crying, groaning and yes, hyperventilating. It is the most painful experience in the world to me. I would rather get 40 shots in my ass then have to vomit, ever. Ok maybe I'm exaggerating a little, I don't think I'd like 40 shots in my ass either. But because God likes to mock me (read above incident about my first night in college) I have the queasiest, most irritable stomach known to man. This means I hurl a lot. ESPECIALLY after a night of boozin’.
Ah, booze. Here I am revisiting this topic, AGAIN. I swear I am not usually such an alkie.
See I ended up drunk last night. This was not the goal mind you, the goal was to hang out with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a while to catch up. The setting was Gazuza in Dupont. Ridiculously overpriced sushi and martinis were had by all. The Scoop Nazi from Larry’s joined us. Then hookahs became involved. And shots of Patron. And like 3 goose and tonics. It was safe to say we all became pretty inebriated, pretty quickly, which is why I woke up feeling so hurlacious that I couldn’t even ride the metro for fear of exposing DC to my horrible puke-phobia. Anyways, that Scoop Nazi is one funny motherfucker I’ll tell you what. I feel like I did crunches yesterday or some shit, my abs hurt from laughing so much.
Did I mention that Wednesday at Gazuza is lesbian night? We had no knowledge of this. Apparently my dinner date noticed, but I certainly didn’t. I wear glasses. I need them to see things that are far away. If you are too far away from me then you are a blur and in order to see you I will have to squint a lot, but obviously I don’t do that unless absolutely necessary b/c I don’t want wrinkles at such an early age. Duh. Anyhow, I do not wear my glasses very frequently, in fact I don’t even know where they are at the moment. I really only used them in school or while driving. And I get along fine without them while driving, I don’t care what my passengers have to say about that. That’s besides the point, the point is that I didn’t have my glasses on. And I kept seeing a group of men at the bar staring at me. I wasn’t in vixen mode so I wasn’t too interested, I was all about catching up with my old buddy that night. Then I saw an old friend who happens to be gay who pointed out to me that it was lesbian night. I looked around. The place was packed. With all women. Those men ogling me at the bar? Those weren’t men. Those were butch lesbos my friends. I was ogled by lesbians, and I am so blind that I didn’t even realize it. Needless to say some of the evening’s events made a lot more sense after we realized this. I thought I was just meeting really friendly, outgoing women. Sometimes I am denser than a dictionary.
And now I get to drive home. I swear, if any fucking metro buses cross my car’s path, I might just explode in a blurry blonde rage.
posted by The Blonde Menace at 3:57 PM
11 Comments:
I also hate dumb bitches.
This so called "lesbian night" sounds intriguing. I can't wait.
EG
I'm not going to say anything about puke... I think it speaks for itself.
However, I think you're the first to declare such a disposition toward metro buses. I mean, I hate metro, but the buses have yet to wrong me. Hate on, though.
PS: glad to see the comment moderation appears to be gone.
Yeah I'm still getting used to this website, but I realized pretty quickly that the comment moderation thing is annoying as fuck.
Hahahahaha yeah puke does kind of speak for itself. I'm kind of surprised that I managed to write so much about it. Not something I normally talk about. Sometimes I think I'm really weird, and maybe a bit awkward too.
I want to be ogled by lesbians too. But I am a man. Life is cruel.
Actually, let me rewrite that. I want to see lesbians ogling each other. Then I want to see them make out.
I'm not sure what "ogled" means, but I don't want to look it up. That way when I think about you being "ogled" by lesbians, it can mean whatever I want it to mean.
Only jockey's enjoy puking.
I think I'm the opposite. I've had moments on metro when I've wanted to puke on people. Like when they're wearing too much perfume. Or putting on mascara. Or when they're loud, giggly teenagers.
Sheesh. I'm getting old and crotchety.
i have been pooped on, vomited on, peed on, snot wiped on more times than i can count.
steve, don't you mean you want to see lesbians ogling each other then getting into a mud wrestling fight, then make out???!!!!
m
I like Molly's idea better.
But I would enjoy lesbians ogling each other, then begin to ogle me, then make out with me, then tell me that I have converted them into heterosexuals just by the power of my kiss.
And then pigs would fly out of my butt, a Philadelphia team would win a championship, and George Bush would become a member of Mensa.
By the way... the official definition of ogle is "1 : to eye amorously or provocatively
2 : to look at especially with greedy or interested attention"
Steve, you are too funny
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