To the Buttcave, Fartman!

OK, sooooo this happened a while ago...

...and I had totally forgotten...

...and I had threatened Ally after it happened that if she didn't write about, I would...

That was mid-September.

No blog from Ally.

Her BF frowns upon flatulence...

Ally thinks flatulence is hilarious...and natural.

And it is.

She popped my cherry on this little fact one time last Summer when she came over for one of our chick-flick slumber party nights and let one fly.

I recently re-paid the favor...something she undeniably never thought would ever happen.

*remembers look on Ally's face at re-payment and bursts into fit of hysterical giggles*

So, now that we were both "christened", all was easy breezy.

That's why when one night while we were on the phone chatting while she waited to pick up her car from the mechanic, she was fine telling me of the physical events that unfolded during our chat.

Ally, sitting alone in the waiting room of the auto shop, lets one fly. No doubt a pretty serious SBD ('silent but deadly' for the completely headless).

I cannot remember if this lady walked in or was already innocently sitting there too when the butt bomb dropped, but...

She most certainly smelled it...

...and she most certainly left the room...

Which prompted Ally to exclaim to me, "To the buttcave, Fartman!"

...she did the voice and everything...

...and I got to hear it!

It was pretty fantastic...

...It's still pretty fantastic...

...if you stop to imagine the scene in your head...facial expressions and all...

...and Ally owning her fart.

*sighs*

...maybe you had to be there...

Dog Damn, I love that girl.

Mr. Lumpy: Chick Magnet

He stood before me in his ripped black concert t-shirt, belly protruding and told me about his Christmas.

Told me that he had been surprised with the unexpected gift of like a gazillion DVDs.

"It's so cool!" He said, "I had just been thinking to myself that I needed to find another hobby...other than drinking."

I looked at him awaiting to hear of the new and exciting hobby...

I waited for it...

...waited for it...

*hears 'click' sound off in the distance of feverish brain*

Ahhhhh, the new hobby is sitting around and watching DVDs!

Of course!

I can see it now...

...the uproar of women fighting and trampling to get to this man...

...putting on their Wonderbras and LipFusion and best pair of "fuck me" pumps and thigh-highs...

...gushing about his profile deets to their mothers, sisters and co-workers...

"Did you see this one, Barb?!?"

*Imaginary Barb swivels around in her imaginary office chair and awaits the exciting info with baited breath*

"OY! Such a chick magnet this one! ...His hobbies include wearing ripped t-shirts in the work place, drinking to unconsciousness and watching DVDs on his mom's couch!!! ...ANNNNND he has TWO super sweet copies of 'Superbad'!!! OH! What a catch!!"

*Imaginary Barb falls off her chair and smacks her head on her cubicle desk structure*

The imaginary concussion Imaginary Barb suffered was a relief from listening to the tragic details of Mr. Lumpy's offerings.

The very real Cory smiles sweetly at Mr. Lumpy and hopes the best for him, but imagines in her head his future life of coronary disease, 12 Step programs and several findings and subsequent losings of Jesus.

...then she thinks...

Holy crap! I know the perfect train wreck.....I mean...errrrr...chick for him!

*giggles evil little laugh and goes about her day*

Thou Shalt Not Imbibe and Dial: The Good, The Bad & The Downright Ugly of Drunk Dialing

As as PSA of course I should mention that one should never get drunk. Derrrr!

However...

Ummmmmm...

We've all done it. (Especially those of us with rich Irish heritages and/or come from a long and dysfunctional line of chic little alkies.)

We've all been drunk.

I tend to blog while intoxicated, and sometimes it is a bit noticeable but mostly it is not...and I usually disclose when I am, so there's that...

Most people have drunk dialed (DD)...

Sometimes it is welcomed. (Like when Speedo calls me during one of his outings and also gets complete strangers on the phone to talk to me.)

But that's only funny because he would likely do the same thing if completely sober...and ummm...kind of has.

*blows kisses to hot Erich, the sober dial and picture sharer from Tallahassee that Speedo arranged*

By the way, I will never complain when a friend dials me with a hot, cycling friend who wants to chat about adventures and fly me out to visit. I may never visit, but it's still a fun call.

Not to mention, Speedo's DDs are legendary...and are actually requested by most of us.

...And oddly he has an amazing sense of time. No matter how spirited he is, he does not call at a scary hour. Now that may be because most DDs happen on Fridays after work and the imbibing started too early to make it a late night, but still. I have never been awoken to a Speedo DD.

Then there are others whose DDs are less welcomed.

Here's a break down:

It's a good DD when someone who is too shy in "real life" DDs you to tell you that they like you, think you are beautiful, amazing, etc.

It is NOT a good DD when someone who you have blown off DDs you repeatedly to inform you alternately in the same conversation that you are amazing and a cold hearted bitch and that they love you and that they hope you die and that you should give them a romantic chance, why can't you just love/hold/fuck them and that they have many other options do you not know what you are missing. (Ummm, yes I know what I am missing. It's on purpose.)

It's a good DD when it is light and funny and made by someone with whom you are on regular speaking terms.

It is NOT a good DD when it is someone with whom you are not on regular speaking terms and they insist that you clarify the many reasons for aforementioned absence of communication. This is made worse if said dial is made after midnight on a work night. It is unacceptable if the DDer then goes demented and belligerent for your wanting to go back to sleep.

It's a good DD when someone is being responsible and calling you for a ride because they don't feel safe enough to drive. This DD makes me smile.

It is NOT a good DD if the call is from a person you haven't spoken to in a while and you know they are going through their phone's contact list, are possibly on the toilet, and decide to inquire about your personal relationship with Jesus Christ. (We're all very happy that you found him. Perhaps if you were sober more you wouldn't misplace him...Call him and let him know of your magical find...I think he's at his dad's house!)

It's a good DD when it's your fun and fantastic co-workers who want you to come out and drive them around St. Louis topless...regarding the car and the blouses. (Ahhhhh, memories!)

It is NOT a good DD when the person only calls you when they are drunk or when their life is in the shitter or a bizarre and incoherent combination of both.

It's a good DD when you are calling to tell the person that you have a present for them.

It is NOT a good DD when aforementioned present is your penis and you are parked on their lawn.

It is NOT a good DD if you are in an argument with your mate and are calling people your mate would rather you didn't because they are insecure and you have been whipped enough to oblige while sober and not in an argument with your mate. Revenge-on-your-mate DD is just wrong and makes you look like a total ass when people originally may have been on your side.

It is NOT a good DD when you call someone who has kids, on a work/school night after midnight and insist upon catching up on things that the person you have dialed didn't feel your were close enough to know during normal dialing hours.

It is NOT a good DD when you call ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends, ex-spouses or ex-bosses because you feel that you need "closure". You were dumped, divorced, fired, etc. That's closure like a futha mucker. Move on!

It is NOT a good DD when you are parked outside your victim's home and are calling to inform them that you know they are not home.

It is NOT a good DD when you call to make someone aware of the pain you feel because they did not call you.

It is NOT a good DD when you yell at the person as soon as they answer the phone at 2:46am because you wanted to leave them a voicemail...and then yell at them again when you call back after they hung up on you. Your victim is sleeping and simply wants the phone to stop ringing. They have every right to answer it. You have less right to call it. Fuck off, freakshow.

So there you have it. A few fine examples of the ever exciting drunk dial.

If you feel that you are in a chatty mood and must dial while intoxicated, may I suggest testing the water with a little harmless texting?

If the person does not respond, they are probably asleep or having sex with their mate and thus not a fantastic candidate for your DD.

If the person does not respond to the text message, it is NOT OK to call them to check if they received the text. DERRRRR!

Love Is So Totally NOT In The Air

Office romances, though generally frowned upon, have been proven to actually be quite healthy...even if a mite undesirable from the corporation's liable standpoint.

That being said, if you are the type of chick who smokes (and carries) pot at all times, snorts coke (and discloses said info to casual co-workers in the break room), are emotionally unstable and coping with a break up from one dude, are prone to fuck on the first not-even-a-date and were voted "most likely to have 27 cats" and were named Miss Bunny Boiler 2006...

...sleeping with the owner-of-the-company's son the first time you hang out is pretty much a horrible tragedy waiting to happen. (Though likely wildly entertaining for some of us to observe...)

...especially if you are also the sort of chick who thinks that work is a sorority and that co-workers are friends and you have been deemed incapable of telling the difference.

You can imagine my dismay when within the first 8 hours of meeting my precious little colleague I was given (without request) the autobiography (in 4000 words or more) of this little nightmare's insane and dysfunctional romantic life.

YIKES!

TMI much?

After vomiting her sad little details to me, a complete stranger, she then asks for my opinion.

...A clear sign that she is completely unaware, if not a bit off her bleepin' rocker.

I told her that she didn't want my opinion because I lacked filters when it comes to trivial things like giving my opinion on others' romantic dysfunction.

She giggled.

It was really quite adorable how she thought I was joking.

Come on. She had just told me that upon her and her LT boyfriend breaking up she hung out with the boss' son, got wasted and screwed him; she then dated him (in her mind) for a few weeks before "breaking up" with him via text message while he was at a function with his dad...her boss...the company owner.

I mean, "DERRRRRR!"

That is simply 20 different kinds of wrong! It just screams that she is begging for a bitch slap.

"B-b-b-b-but we have this connection!" she tried to convince me regarding him. "He has a lot going on and he said he didn't want anything serious but he is such a good friend I don't want to lose him...." (Said in the whiniest voice EVER!)

"Wait", I say. "He said he didn't want anything serious?"

"Mmmm-hmmm", she replied.

"He told you that prior to sleeping with you?"

"Yeah...."

"There's your answer."

"Huh?"

"He told you he didn't want anything serious and you were in an emotional state and drunk and slept with him anyway. Any relationship after he made the statement was a figment of your imagination, hon."

(It's cute how I added the "hon" in there to soften the blow, isn't it?)

She blinked at me.

"I know it's a tough pill to swallow, but he was upfront with you. His only mistake was not seeing/caring that you were in an acute emotional state and that he should not "close the deal". Basically, he's an ass and you were stupid. That being said, now that you have thrown a tantrum and called him repeatedly and 'broke up' with him in such a dramatic fashion, it would really be best that you just back right off and accept it. Let him make the next move, but do not get your hopes up."

She gushed some faux admiration for my bitchy little insight when I'm sure she was really jinxing my karma and started talking about her former cocaine addiction, how she loves LSD and after 10 times you are considered "legally psychotic" and that she has done it 42 times and still experiences flashbacks and tremors and how her sister is a recovering heroine addict. (The part about people being legally psychotic is a well known urban legend...of which she seems completely unaware and may be using it as a crutch for her genuine psychosis and absolute stupidity.)

(...such an adorable family image I have in my head...)

I made a mental note to call my mother later that day and thank her for not doing drugs and only being a clinically insane abandoner who loved me enough to let my grandparents raise me while she moved way far, far away.

I had originally thought that she gushed to me because I was new and she was nervous. I later realized that she engaged in aforementioned stupidity on a regular basis closer to hourly.

She is incapable of making good choices.

I feel sorry for her...but not enough to care. There are far too many people out there to help who actually want to make changes.

One day she is rambling on to me about the blow she scored while partying with some band she stalks and I wonder from which drug is she allegedly recovered? Clearly not coke or pot. LSD perhaps?

I shake my head.

I have no time or patience for this type of person.

Later I will walk into the break room to hear her telling the story of her romance with the owner's son to a group of female co-workers.

OY! Does she not grasp the concept of vaginae and gossip?!?!?

"We have such a connection! I just need to give him some space and he'll come around. Right, Cory?"

She beams a big clueless smile my way.

I smile my tight-lipped smile (that she does not yet know the meaning of) and go about my business.

In my head I wonder how awkward it would be to contact a complete stranger and advise him to look into a restraining order for "that one chick" he banged at the office.

'Tis the season for psychotropics, m'friend....errrr....casual co-worker whom I will never publicly admit to knowing!