I got up to 200 followers somehow, and that's awesome. If I could lose pounds as successfully as I gain followers, I'd be one hot bitch right about now. Unfortunately that ain't the way it works, but it's still awesome that so many people care about my story and show up to read it even when it drags ass like it has been lately. Sorry about the draggin, but stick with me, kids! Things will get better.
As for now, I have this stupid whatever is going around. Doc said it's just a sinus infection but it's still pretty sucky. I feel like a phlegm factory and I realized that it's impossible to hide your triple chins in a coughing fit. The coughing is the worst! Plus I hate the way it sounds, all dry and hacky. I need a sexier cough sound.
The doctor told me to stay home from work on Thursday and that sounded like some advice I could get behind. But I ended up going to like 3 Targets instead and then going to the movies. We went to see that MJ movie. It was pretty good, but hard for me to enjoy because of these drunk assholes sitting like 3 rows behind us. They were having like a swear-off match turned up to 11 and they would not fucking shut up EVER. Look, I'm not gonna be all preachy about people swearing because...well, yeah...but like, turn it down, you assholes. Then the one chick is like reading the subtitles out LOUD and singing along but with the wrong words and at all the wrong times and just being drunk and annoying.
I really wanted to get up and just be like CAN YOU SHUT YOUR DRUNK FUCKING MOUTH AND WATCH THE MOVIE?? But I ain't do that. First of all, because I have class and grace, like a modern day Grace Kelly, see? And secondly because I am a giant coward and I fear getting my ass kicked above all other fears in life, even ghosts! Yeah, I'm a pussy and I freely admit it. I mean, look at me, I'm soft! This body is not tuned for fighting, it's tuned for hugs and biting sarcasm. Plus God forbid, someone calls me a fat bitch in a room full of people and I have to down a bottle of Vicodin POST-HASTE.
So we just left for a later showing and I tattled to the manager. I doubt they did anything, but I can at least take comfort in the fact that all the other people in the movie are as pussy-ish as me since no one else said/did anything either. Drunk people are my biggest gripe about living in Las Vegas. I understand people come here to have a good time, but there are about 40,000 places where that kinda behavior is acceptable in this town, and about 4 where it isn't. One of the four obviously being a goddamn movie theater. I can only afford to go to the movies like once a fucking year these days, and it seems like there's always some beligerent jerk there to make sure it won't be worth the money.
Also, why are you THAT drunk at 4pm on a fucking Thursday? Something is wrong here. We all have our vices but fuck off, man. You don't pay ten bucks to watch me eat, so I don't wanna pay ten bucks to watch you be drunk.
Rant over.
Speaking of rants, pity has garnered me yet another prize in life! Fat Daddy is giving me his seat belt extender to take on my trip home in ONLY 3 WEEKS! (holy shit!) I'm excited about not having to ask for one, because it always takes a little of the wind outta my sails, you know? Plus then I'll send it off to someone to destroy when I get back. It's called Paying it Forward, I think Kevin Spacey invented it. Thanks, FD, you're A-OK in my book, sir.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Guns of Navarone
I'm kinda bummed now that Halloween is officially over. It's my favorite holiday and today I had to take down all my spooky cubicle decorations and send it back to bleaksville. It looks so boring and regular now! Hate it. Oh well, only 362 more days to go.
Halloween was really fun this year. I went out and had a good time and saw a good band and made some new friends and it was just good all over. We did the kiddie handing out candy thing for a while, then headed out to our trivia bar to see my favorite local band Darby O'Gill and the Little People. 
(in their Batman gear...)
People at the bar were really receptive to my $2 costume. Apparently alcoholics really love Arby's. It garnered me many drunken high fives and it was nice to have people pointing and laughing at something other than my fatness for a change. If only everyday could be Halloween!
Fast forward about four hours and I am the only sober one left trying to corrall this motliest of crews into cabs or my backseat. It was a mess but worth it. I wonder if people look at me being rolled out of a Golden Corrall the same way I look at drunk people stumbling out of bars and into their cars. My guess is probably. Stupid honey butter rolls!
Speaking of drunkasses, this boyfriend of mine decided to puke alllll over the passenger side of my car on the way home. We were minutes away from home, it was a real heartbreaker! I think few things are as demeaning as having to sit in your own waste, be it poop or vomit, so I'm glad it was a short trip. It was all 0 to 60 on the pukemobile though. He went from "I don't feel so good" to "nah, i'll be okay" to "projectile vomitting" in the span of about 10 seconds. Gross, dude.
It was also like some weird comedy of errors because I was pulled over on the side of the road trying to get his ass outta the car and everytime I would unlock the door, he would lock it again thinking he was unlocking it, then getting all frustrated because he's holding in about 6 gallons of puke and we're playing red light-green light with the fucking lock switch. Very annoying. He swung the door open just in time to release a neon rainbow of Fat Tire all over my poor door panel.
I woke him up early the next day to clean the shit, because I literally couldn't. Everytime my fingers touch puke, I'm like Superfly TNT, dig? Yeah, puke begets puke and I can't deal, so he Resolved and Fabreezed the shit outta my car and I still get in there everytime like I'm trying to sniff out a bomb because if even the slightest hint remains, the car is pretty much unusable. So far...so good-ish. 
As for November, I'm supposed to kick ass this month so Pow Pow MFers.
Today woulda been my mom's 69th birthday. Sure wish she was still around. It's been almost eight years but I still miss her every day. Makes me sad. Happy Birthday, Mom!
But after today...more kicking ass.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Shut up and work...
30 more people got fired at my job today. Panic sets in and brings with it a bucket of fun-sized candy bars, minus the fun. To be fair, I only had 3, which is a far cry from days of yore when a whole bag trembled in fear when it saw my big ass pass by. Three I can deal with. I'm just stressed and everyone's all paranoid and annoying. "Say, did you hear about Ol' Whatserface?" "yeah, I heard...we all heard. Stop talking about it!" It's like working in some war-torn nation. Everyday you know there's gonna be another casualty, you just hope it's no one you know or care about. And of course you hope it's not you. Having no insurance would suck.
The 300s still remain elusive. I know I'm only one good colonic away from them but there's no point in cheating to get there. It'll happen soon enough. Eyes on the prize and all that business, you know?
The 300s still remain elusive. I know I'm only one good colonic away from them but there's no point in cheating to get there. It'll happen soon enough. Eyes on the prize and all that business, you know?
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Straight outta Compton...
Yeah yeah, I know.
I been having some dang hard times lately, you guys.
I broke my back. Well, not really. But it feels like it! It sucks. I move around in a very elderly fashion making the "OW MY BACK!" face about every 4 steps. Very annoying during this Halloween shopping season. I went to the doctor and she sent me to get an x-ray which was an altogether awkward and humiliating experience involving two hot x-ray techs and a hospital gown that wasn't even close. Seriously. I mean, not...even...close.
Two days later, I get this message on my voicemail..."Hi this is blah-blah from Dr. BlahBlah's office and we got your test results back. Normal results. Okay, thanks, bye." Ugh. Doubleyou-tee-eff. Now I just assume they thought I was faking to get pills, which I didn't even TAKE, mind you. No mention of a follow-up or referral or MRI or anything that might actually be helpful. So annoying. This doctor is really starting to get on my nerves. I realize she's a doctor and her station in life is significantly more important that just a lowly phone jockey like me, but she won't respond to emails or messages I send. I always have to go in. And that's a giant pain in the ass when she works the same hours I do and she could easily just pick up a phone and call in a referral for me. I'm thinking of just finding a new doctor. Which is another pain in the ass. Everything is annoying!
Work is stressful. I'm happy to have my job. I'm grateful to be working during these awful economic times. But man, stress. It sucks because I actually do like my job. I mean the customers get annoying at times and it does make me hate old people, but other than that, it's the best job I've ever had. But it just feels scary. It feels like any given day could be your last or like I could drive up tomorrow and the gates could be locked up and I'd be screwed. It's just tension and pins and needles and walking on eggshells every day. Working at a bank is always kinda scary cause they just switch owners like kids trading baseball cards, but it's even worse when times are hard, and well...times are freaking hard. I'm just hoping for the best and trying to keep my head down and not rock any boats.
You know, despite the back and the work stress, I've actually been doing remarkably well on the dieting front. I'm weird because I'm like the opposite of most weight loss bloggers. When I'm doing terrible, I can blog every day about all the random crap going on in my life. But when I'm doing well, being on plan, I feel boring and can't decide what to blog about. "Today I ate some lettuce...the world is a vampire. The end." Although I agree that would make an awesome blog, it's just not me. I am a rambler and I need to ramble on. Incessantly. About dumb shit.
So I saw a 3 at the beginning of my weight for the first time in a while, but it ended up being a fluke. Curses! The next morning I was up 4 pounds, so I think it was just my scale messing with my emotions. But...I'm still headed in the right direction, and that's good. I'm going home for a few days in early December and if I can lose a few before then, that'd just be swell. I don't want the Southwest lady giving me another lecture about their seating policy. YEAH, I GET IT, THANKS. The armrest goes down, can't charge me twice. Sorry, rules is rules, Southwest.
Sorry this is such a boring post, but hey, at least I blogged. Beggars can't be choosers, dudes.
Also, how've you been?
I been having some dang hard times lately, you guys.
I broke my back. Well, not really. But it feels like it! It sucks. I move around in a very elderly fashion making the "OW MY BACK!" face about every 4 steps. Very annoying during this Halloween shopping season. I went to the doctor and she sent me to get an x-ray which was an altogether awkward and humiliating experience involving two hot x-ray techs and a hospital gown that wasn't even close. Seriously. I mean, not...even...close.
Two days later, I get this message on my voicemail..."Hi this is blah-blah from Dr. BlahBlah's office and we got your test results back. Normal results. Okay, thanks, bye." Ugh. Doubleyou-tee-eff. Now I just assume they thought I was faking to get pills, which I didn't even TAKE, mind you. No mention of a follow-up or referral or MRI or anything that might actually be helpful. So annoying. This doctor is really starting to get on my nerves. I realize she's a doctor and her station in life is significantly more important that just a lowly phone jockey like me, but she won't respond to emails or messages I send. I always have to go in. And that's a giant pain in the ass when she works the same hours I do and she could easily just pick up a phone and call in a referral for me. I'm thinking of just finding a new doctor. Which is another pain in the ass. Everything is annoying!
Work is stressful. I'm happy to have my job. I'm grateful to be working during these awful economic times. But man, stress. It sucks because I actually do like my job. I mean the customers get annoying at times and it does make me hate old people, but other than that, it's the best job I've ever had. But it just feels scary. It feels like any given day could be your last or like I could drive up tomorrow and the gates could be locked up and I'd be screwed. It's just tension and pins and needles and walking on eggshells every day. Working at a bank is always kinda scary cause they just switch owners like kids trading baseball cards, but it's even worse when times are hard, and well...times are freaking hard. I'm just hoping for the best and trying to keep my head down and not rock any boats.
You know, despite the back and the work stress, I've actually been doing remarkably well on the dieting front. I'm weird because I'm like the opposite of most weight loss bloggers. When I'm doing terrible, I can blog every day about all the random crap going on in my life. But when I'm doing well, being on plan, I feel boring and can't decide what to blog about. "Today I ate some lettuce...the world is a vampire. The end." Although I agree that would make an awesome blog, it's just not me. I am a rambler and I need to ramble on. Incessantly. About dumb shit.
So I saw a 3 at the beginning of my weight for the first time in a while, but it ended up being a fluke. Curses! The next morning I was up 4 pounds, so I think it was just my scale messing with my emotions. But...I'm still headed in the right direction, and that's good. I'm going home for a few days in early December and if I can lose a few before then, that'd just be swell. I don't want the Southwest lady giving me another lecture about their seating policy. YEAH, I GET IT, THANKS. The armrest goes down, can't charge me twice. Sorry, rules is rules, Southwest.
Sorry this is such a boring post, but hey, at least I blogged. Beggars can't be choosers, dudes.
Also, how've you been?
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.
You see this apple?
Let it be known that when I tossed this apple into my purse this morning at appx. 7:50am, it was green with several hints of red. I got in my car and threw my purse into the passenger seat, as is the usual routine. At 1:07 pm, I reached into my purse to retrieve the apple on my way to lunch. Alas, it was not there. Where the hell could this damn apple be? Forty minutes later, it dawns on me that maybe it rolled out of my purse on the way to work. Genius! I walk outside to get my apple. I peek through the window and see this fine apple sitting in the passenger seat all alone. I unlock the door and reach in to grab it. It's cooked. Baked by the Las Vegas sun. Tragedy. There will be no apple for me this day.
Dude, that sucks. It's like days away from October and I can cook a fucking apple in my car. This injustice won't stand.
Moving on to bigger and better things: Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a winner!
This is a step-by-step process to be explained in pictures and a wall of text:
First off, I notice no one bothered to tell me that my comments aren't numbered. I thought I could just use that Random Integer thing and pick a number and go to that number and declare a winner, but...no numbers. So I had to get real crafty and print out all the comments and cut them out and fold them ghetto drawing style.
As you can see, there were a lot of entries....far too many for my planned receptacle:
Let it be known that when I tossed this apple into my purse this morning at appx. 7:50am, it was green with several hints of red. I got in my car and threw my purse into the passenger seat, as is the usual routine. At 1:07 pm, I reached into my purse to retrieve the apple on my way to lunch. Alas, it was not there. Where the hell could this damn apple be? Forty minutes later, it dawns on me that maybe it rolled out of my purse on the way to work. Genius! I walk outside to get my apple. I peek through the window and see this fine apple sitting in the passenger seat all alone. I unlock the door and reach in to grab it. It's cooked. Baked by the Las Vegas sun. Tragedy. There will be no apple for me this day.Dude, that sucks. It's like days away from October and I can cook a fucking apple in my car. This injustice won't stand.
Moving on to bigger and better things: Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a winner!
This is a step-by-step process to be explained in pictures and a wall of text:
First off, I notice no one bothered to tell me that my comments aren't numbered. I thought I could just use that Random Integer thing and pick a number and go to that number and declare a winner, but...no numbers. So I had to get real crafty and print out all the comments and cut them out and fold them ghetto drawing style.As you can see, there were a lot of entries....far too many for my planned receptacle:
We found a bigger bucket to dump them into and I let the lovely Lupe do the dirty work:
(Shake shake shake...)
A winner is drawn!
Erin from the xxl-files: tales of a fat girl in a strange, strange world. (She also wins world's longest title.) Congrats Erin! Kindly email an address over to me at fight.fat.phobia@gmail.com and your winnings shall be making their way to you shortly!
Look...here are all the losing comments...kinda makes me sad.
But chin up, friends! You all get this lovely Participation Ribbon just for playing! (Well, not really...I only bought one. But just pretend this one's for you?) You may remember the Participation Ribbon from such traumatic fat childhood experiences as Field Day, Relay Races and the Presidential Fitness Exam.
Well, thanks for playing, guys. I hope you bums will still bother coming around even when I'm not giving away free stuff. This was fun and I'm sure I'll do it again in the not-so-distant future, so don't be a stranger. :)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Snoozy.
It's Saturday. BuyCostumes.com is doing this thing where they have 5 costumes each day for under 5 bucks so I stayed up until 6am to see what the deal is today because they're always sold out by the time I get to work during the week. Then I find out they only do it on weekdays. Wonk wonk. Not like those pre-assembled costumes ever fit me or anything, but I still like getting a good deal on things. So much so that I will stay up until 6am on a Saturday just to get my fat paws on a steal. It's called dedication to your craft, people.
My department decided to be zombies this year as a group for Halloween. That's kind of a bummer since I was already a zombie LAST year for Halloween. Being a SUPER plus sized gal, you pretty much have like 3 options. Clown, witch or zombie. Boooring. I originally wanted to get a Biggest Loser tshirt and be a Biggest Loser "BEFORE" contestant, but everyone kept giving me the self-esteem lecture, so I had to scrap it. So I guess I got no choice but to rejoin the forces of the dead this year. I need a creative way to die...any ideas? First one to say heart attack gets a punch in the face!
Hey, since we're already talking about Halloween and all, I may as well show you the pictures of my cubicle. They didn't come out that great. I mean, it's way more spookier in person, is what I'm saying.
First I found these cool granite thingies at the dollar store. Here they are just chillin on my desk with a bunch of cups and my fan:
I don't mind having to buy your love and affection, but at least be more subtle! Say, if you haven't entered yet, you still have 2 more dayssss.
I'm prolly gonna spend the rest of today in bed, so I hope you have a great day doing whatever it is that normal people do on the weekends. Good golf, good tennis, or whatever makes you happy. Marrrvin Zindler, Eyewitness News. (shout out to my Houston peeps!)
My department decided to be zombies this year as a group for Halloween. That's kind of a bummer since I was already a zombie LAST year for Halloween. Being a SUPER plus sized gal, you pretty much have like 3 options. Clown, witch or zombie. Boooring. I originally wanted to get a Biggest Loser tshirt and be a Biggest Loser "BEFORE" contestant, but everyone kept giving me the self-esteem lecture, so I had to scrap it. So I guess I got no choice but to rejoin the forces of the dead this year. I need a creative way to die...any ideas? First one to say heart attack gets a punch in the face!
Hey, since we're already talking about Halloween and all, I may as well show you the pictures of my cubicle. They didn't come out that great. I mean, it's way more spookier in person, is what I'm saying.
First I found these cool granite thingies at the dollar store. Here they are just chillin on my desk with a bunch of cups and my fan:
Here's the rest of it. You can't really see the cemetary gate thingies on the top, but those kick ass, plus they kinda make my cubicle walls higher which is good because it makes it harder for people to spy on me while I update Blogger all day. I even typed in a personalized message for you!
Yeah, that's it. I wish I could do more, but I still have to work in the stupid thing so it's hard to really let the creative juices flow in such limited space. One day I'll have a job with a real office that belongs to only me and I will decorate the shit out of it because professionalism is overrated.
Here is an example of why I should have a giveaway every day:
I don't mind having to buy your love and affection, but at least be more subtle! Say, if you haven't entered yet, you still have 2 more dayssss.I'm prolly gonna spend the rest of today in bed, so I hope you have a great day doing whatever it is that normal people do on the weekends. Good golf, good tennis, or whatever makes you happy. Marrrvin Zindler, Eyewitness News. (shout out to my Houston peeps!)
Friday, September 25, 2009
Falling for you.
I like making lists. Something about numbering or bullet points just makes me happy. So I wanna start doing a Friday Top 5. Maybe not every Friday, but...for now at least.
I was talking to my brother the other day and out of nowhere he asks "So have you had any good falls lately?" Maybe you don't know this about me, but I fall down a lot. Like...a lot. I tend to blame it on my fatness cause I can't see my feet when I walk really, or because fat lends it's way to gravity or something. Maybe I'm just clumsy...not sure really. Alls I know is that I fall down a great deal and it has led to a lifetime of jokes from my family.
My bro says that my problem is that I don't know "how" to fall. The way that most people catch themselves, or can jog their way out of a fall...yeah, I cant, and never do. Falling is like a grand event in my life and it always leaves me all beat up and embarrassed. I guess the irony of the situation is that if I see anyone else fall, I will fucking laugh about that shit for days and days, but clearly, I don't see the comedy in my own epic flailings.
Without further ado, I present to you my Top 5 Falls:
1. The Threesome: The movie Threesome came out when I was 16 years old. Being right in the prime of my hormonal teenage lets-talk-about-sex-babeee stage, I was all over it. I had planned for like weeks to go see it for my birthday with my sister-in-law. My mom, being a mom, was not too keen on the idea of me seeing a movie called Threesome, and basically was like "ehhh...no." But because I was turning 16 and I was LIKE SO TOTALLY AN ADULT LIKE OMG, I was like "eff that, we're goin." So I ditched school and off we went. Of course like any other time in my life that I try to do some sneaky shady shit, I have to do something stupid in order to get caught. This time...I fell. In my defense, movie theatres are dark and the floors are always slippery, so it's not that CRAZY that I could slip and fall. But the movie had just ended and I was trying to high-tail it outta there and I ended up doing like this crazy split turn move that ended me with me on that dirty buttery floor crying in pain. My SIL didn't see me fall and was already outside the theater waiting for me before she finally came back in to see me in a pathetic heap on the ground. I twisted my ankle something awful and thought for sure it was broken! So, like a wimp, I called my mom. Long story short: Worst.Birthday.Ever. Also, the movie sucked. Also I was grounded for a while. Also, screw you Stephen Baldwin. I'll never forgive you.
#2: The Screwdriver: This one's short and dirty. We were walking downtown to get to the Bayou City Art Festival one year. I was trying to run across this one street so I wouldn't get plowed down by a street cleaner truck that was inching its way towards the intersection. I trip over a pothole and fall in such a way that I was facing one direction when I started falling and through some whirlwind falling technique, I end up spinning like one and a half full turns before I hit the ground. Truck is still headed for my now immobile lump of a body in the middle of the steet. My brother comes over and is like "What the hell are you doing?? Unscrew yourself and let's go!" Thereby dubbed the Screwdriver...it forever haunts me.
#3: The 'That's What You Get': Being that I was the youngest and my brother was six years older than me, we had a typical "bully/annoying little sister" relationship. I hardly ever got the upper hand when it came to that little arrangement, but ONCE, one glorious day, I thought I did. My brother broke his bike trying to do a wheelie while being fat. So he was sitting on the curb with his friend while I was riding my bike back and forth in front of him saying obnoxious things like "man, it feels so good to have a bike!" and "wow, I sure do love HAVING A BIKE!" Fast forward about 40 seconds when my brother gets tired of my bullshit and chucks a big ass rock at my back tire as I ride by. In true Murphy's Law fashion, the rock gets stuck in the spoke and the tire stops dead in its track and the whole bike falls over to the side with my big ass still on it. I was riding around with no shoes on like the country bumpkin I was so the pedal squished my chubber toes underneath it. I broke 3 toes! I was like too fat to navigate with crutches so I had to use my dead granny's old Walker to get around the house for like the next 6 weeks. I refused to leave the house...it was all very dramatic. And the worst part was that I couldn't even tattle because as soon as I fell over, my brother ran over and was like IF YOU TELL MOM I'M GONNA KILL YOU WHEN YOU GO TO SLEEP! I still believe that threat to be very real.
#4: My Name is Mud: Growing up in Houston, bad weather is just a part of life. Flooding, hurricanes, tornadoes, humidity...if it sucks, we get it. So like, a little flash flood, it ain't no thang, really. One day after a short flash flood, I was bored and hungry and tired of being in my house. I asked my dad if he'd take me to get some lunch and he's all "blah blah I ain't takin' muh truck out in these waters blah blah whatever." That's verbatim, by the way. So I was like "well, I'm gonna walk down to the taqueria on the corner, I'm hungry." He just shook his head and said "Go on, can't tell you nothin', do what you want!" So I was like "uhhh....ok." and left. So I get there and have a couple tacos and start to head back and I see that they have the sidewalk taped off because they're doing construction in our neighbor's yard. Being the badass rebel that I am, I scoff and step over the tape and continue on my way. Then WHOOMP (there it is) right into a freaking hole I go. I didn't know they had torn up the sidewalk during the construction and I couldn't see because of the standing floodwater. I'm trying to climb my way outta this damn mud pit and it feels like the harder I fight, the farther I go into the hole. It didn't help that I was wearing some cheap ass Old Navy plastic flipflops that were both firmly planted into the mud by now. I finally got out, but man, my legs were all covered in mud and my shoes were lost in the muddy abyss never to be seen again. Because I didn't wanna listen to my dad's I-told-you-so's, I walked over to the hose in front of our house and hosed off my sad mud-covered legs. Once I thought I was free of the evidence, I went in the house and there was my dad standing at the window fucking cracking up having watched the whole thing transpire. Being the gossipping old lady that he is, I basically had to hear everyone I know tell me my dad had told them all about my fall over the next few days. Argh.
#5: Never Can Say Goodbye: When I as nine years old, my uncle Barney died. My mom's family is from this little hick town in Texas called Belton. Because my uncle was a single dude still, they decided to bury him in the family plot in Belton. I had been to funerals before, for my gramma and my brother-in-law, but I had never been to a country ass funeral like this before. My other uncles had to dig the freaking hole! It was old-timey, to say the least. So maybe it's a Baptist thing, but whenever someone dies, they have that big spray of flowers that they put on top of the casket and after the services, people walk by and take a flower to keep or press or whatever. So being a young annoying kid, I was wayyy in the back of the flower-getting line. By the time I got up there, all that was left were a few weak ass carnations. So once everyone stopped paying attention, I decided to go around to the other side of the casket and get one of the remaining roses that were out of reach. Because my uncles are not professional gravediggers, the hole was all uneven and covered with like a green sheet. Stupid me, took one step too many and there goes my short little fat left leg right into the grave. Trying to teeter the delicate balance of not wanting to plunge all of 6 feet into the hole of uncertain death but also not wanting to call out for help and be made fun of for life, I did what any self-respecting brat would do. I hunkered down and waited for someone to come look for me. Unfornately that someone was my brother who then muttered the now infamous quote "Mom, Tricia's stuck in the gravehole." Enter chaos. I was pulled from impending doom, but now some two decades later, no funeral passes without at least a few comments of "Hey, try not to fall in this time." I have no doubt that when I die, my brother will stand over my coffin and lean over slightly to whisper over my corpse "it's okay to fall in this time, Trishy." Sentimental!
There you have it. This was long, I know, and if you made it this far, you are to be commended. Hopefully you had a few laughs and learned a little something along the way, mostly that my brother is a jerk.
If you have any funny fall stories, consider my comment section your sanctuary.
I was talking to my brother the other day and out of nowhere he asks "So have you had any good falls lately?" Maybe you don't know this about me, but I fall down a lot. Like...a lot. I tend to blame it on my fatness cause I can't see my feet when I walk really, or because fat lends it's way to gravity or something. Maybe I'm just clumsy...not sure really. Alls I know is that I fall down a great deal and it has led to a lifetime of jokes from my family.
My bro says that my problem is that I don't know "how" to fall. The way that most people catch themselves, or can jog their way out of a fall...yeah, I cant, and never do. Falling is like a grand event in my life and it always leaves me all beat up and embarrassed. I guess the irony of the situation is that if I see anyone else fall, I will fucking laugh about that shit for days and days, but clearly, I don't see the comedy in my own epic flailings.
Without further ado, I present to you my Top 5 Falls:
1. The Threesome: The movie Threesome came out when I was 16 years old. Being right in the prime of my hormonal teenage lets-talk-about-sex-babeee stage, I was all over it. I had planned for like weeks to go see it for my birthday with my sister-in-law. My mom, being a mom, was not too keen on the idea of me seeing a movie called Threesome, and basically was like "ehhh...no." But because I was turning 16 and I was LIKE SO TOTALLY AN ADULT LIKE OMG, I was like "eff that, we're goin." So I ditched school and off we went. Of course like any other time in my life that I try to do some sneaky shady shit, I have to do something stupid in order to get caught. This time...I fell. In my defense, movie theatres are dark and the floors are always slippery, so it's not that CRAZY that I could slip and fall. But the movie had just ended and I was trying to high-tail it outta there and I ended up doing like this crazy split turn move that ended me with me on that dirty buttery floor crying in pain. My SIL didn't see me fall and was already outside the theater waiting for me before she finally came back in to see me in a pathetic heap on the ground. I twisted my ankle something awful and thought for sure it was broken! So, like a wimp, I called my mom. Long story short: Worst.Birthday.Ever. Also, the movie sucked. Also I was grounded for a while. Also, screw you Stephen Baldwin. I'll never forgive you.
#2: The Screwdriver: This one's short and dirty. We were walking downtown to get to the Bayou City Art Festival one year. I was trying to run across this one street so I wouldn't get plowed down by a street cleaner truck that was inching its way towards the intersection. I trip over a pothole and fall in such a way that I was facing one direction when I started falling and through some whirlwind falling technique, I end up spinning like one and a half full turns before I hit the ground. Truck is still headed for my now immobile lump of a body in the middle of the steet. My brother comes over and is like "What the hell are you doing?? Unscrew yourself and let's go!" Thereby dubbed the Screwdriver...it forever haunts me.
#3: The 'That's What You Get': Being that I was the youngest and my brother was six years older than me, we had a typical "bully/annoying little sister" relationship. I hardly ever got the upper hand when it came to that little arrangement, but ONCE, one glorious day, I thought I did. My brother broke his bike trying to do a wheelie while being fat. So he was sitting on the curb with his friend while I was riding my bike back and forth in front of him saying obnoxious things like "man, it feels so good to have a bike!" and "wow, I sure do love HAVING A BIKE!" Fast forward about 40 seconds when my brother gets tired of my bullshit and chucks a big ass rock at my back tire as I ride by. In true Murphy's Law fashion, the rock gets stuck in the spoke and the tire stops dead in its track and the whole bike falls over to the side with my big ass still on it. I was riding around with no shoes on like the country bumpkin I was so the pedal squished my chubber toes underneath it. I broke 3 toes! I was like too fat to navigate with crutches so I had to use my dead granny's old Walker to get around the house for like the next 6 weeks. I refused to leave the house...it was all very dramatic. And the worst part was that I couldn't even tattle because as soon as I fell over, my brother ran over and was like IF YOU TELL MOM I'M GONNA KILL YOU WHEN YOU GO TO SLEEP! I still believe that threat to be very real.
#4: My Name is Mud: Growing up in Houston, bad weather is just a part of life. Flooding, hurricanes, tornadoes, humidity...if it sucks, we get it. So like, a little flash flood, it ain't no thang, really. One day after a short flash flood, I was bored and hungry and tired of being in my house. I asked my dad if he'd take me to get some lunch and he's all "blah blah I ain't takin' muh truck out in these waters blah blah whatever." That's verbatim, by the way. So I was like "well, I'm gonna walk down to the taqueria on the corner, I'm hungry." He just shook his head and said "Go on, can't tell you nothin', do what you want!" So I was like "uhhh....ok." and left. So I get there and have a couple tacos and start to head back and I see that they have the sidewalk taped off because they're doing construction in our neighbor's yard. Being the badass rebel that I am, I scoff and step over the tape and continue on my way. Then WHOOMP (there it is) right into a freaking hole I go. I didn't know they had torn up the sidewalk during the construction and I couldn't see because of the standing floodwater. I'm trying to climb my way outta this damn mud pit and it feels like the harder I fight, the farther I go into the hole. It didn't help that I was wearing some cheap ass Old Navy plastic flipflops that were both firmly planted into the mud by now. I finally got out, but man, my legs were all covered in mud and my shoes were lost in the muddy abyss never to be seen again. Because I didn't wanna listen to my dad's I-told-you-so's, I walked over to the hose in front of our house and hosed off my sad mud-covered legs. Once I thought I was free of the evidence, I went in the house and there was my dad standing at the window fucking cracking up having watched the whole thing transpire. Being the gossipping old lady that he is, I basically had to hear everyone I know tell me my dad had told them all about my fall over the next few days. Argh.
#5: Never Can Say Goodbye: When I as nine years old, my uncle Barney died. My mom's family is from this little hick town in Texas called Belton. Because my uncle was a single dude still, they decided to bury him in the family plot in Belton. I had been to funerals before, for my gramma and my brother-in-law, but I had never been to a country ass funeral like this before. My other uncles had to dig the freaking hole! It was old-timey, to say the least. So maybe it's a Baptist thing, but whenever someone dies, they have that big spray of flowers that they put on top of the casket and after the services, people walk by and take a flower to keep or press or whatever. So being a young annoying kid, I was wayyy in the back of the flower-getting line. By the time I got up there, all that was left were a few weak ass carnations. So once everyone stopped paying attention, I decided to go around to the other side of the casket and get one of the remaining roses that were out of reach. Because my uncles are not professional gravediggers, the hole was all uneven and covered with like a green sheet. Stupid me, took one step too many and there goes my short little fat left leg right into the grave. Trying to teeter the delicate balance of not wanting to plunge all of 6 feet into the hole of uncertain death but also not wanting to call out for help and be made fun of for life, I did what any self-respecting brat would do. I hunkered down and waited for someone to come look for me. Unfornately that someone was my brother who then muttered the now infamous quote "Mom, Tricia's stuck in the gravehole." Enter chaos. I was pulled from impending doom, but now some two decades later, no funeral passes without at least a few comments of "Hey, try not to fall in this time." I have no doubt that when I die, my brother will stand over my coffin and lean over slightly to whisper over my corpse "it's okay to fall in this time, Trishy." Sentimental!
There you have it. This was long, I know, and if you made it this far, you are to be commended. Hopefully you had a few laughs and learned a little something along the way, mostly that my brother is a jerk.
If you have any funny fall stories, consider my comment section your sanctuary.
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