Sass & Bite

"If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you" Oscar Wilde

Category: Things that Actually Happen to Me

Drunk at the School Carnival: How Being Accosted in a Bathroom by a Drunken Carnie Basically Sums Up My Life at this Point

Like my uncanny ability to always choose the worst chocolate from the box, or the most expensive item in any array of objects, my ability to attract the crazies is just a defining part of me. And not in the Jack Keroac sense either. Luckily, I appreciate the color (and often the smell) they add to my life.

On Saturday night I reunited with some grade school chums at our annual school carnival, which I can pretty much guarantee is the bougiest, most impressive school carnival you’ll ever see, thanks to a high concentration of Showbiz parents and a healthy amount of show-off tendencies. Anyway, now that we’re old enough to descend upon the margarita and beer booths for something other than asking our parents for ride ticket money, we decided to spend our Saturday night getting drunk, jamming to a live performance of 90’s hits by Sugar Ray, and stalking our old classmates and teachers. Because obviously.

But that’s not the point. That’s just gravy. The point is that as I was waiting in line for the bathroom, perfectly composed and minding my own business, I thought of a funny incident — and by incident, I mean the fact that at one point our school janitor used to mop the bathroom floors with toilet water — and smiled to myself. This was my first mistake, and I should know better than to take off my bitchface around strangers, cause it never ends well, but whatever.

The middle-aged, tore-up-looking bleached blonde woman, who was clearly inebriated and almost definitely a carnie, turned around from the mirror where she had been vaguely examining/admiring herself witnessed this. So she turned around and kindly (I think) said (slurred), “you ok?”.
To which I smiled (I’m a friendly drunk), and said yes.
To which she helpfully replied, “’cause you look pretty drunk. And not ok. Kgnjnv.”
“Nope, I’m golden. Pinky promise”.
Then she smiled (if a smile could slur, this would be it) and walked (shambled) out, probably to operate heavy machinery filled with children.

I shrugged and said, half to myself and half to the 15 year old girl and her friend standing next to me, “she’s not wrong”.
To which she said “what? Did you say that’s your mom?” (Um, offensive, in retrospect)
“No, I said she’s not wrong”
“. . . So you are drunk?”
I was only mildly buzzed, but I just smiled and winked at her.

But she didn’t care and gave her friend a look, cause they’re 15 and too cool and I’m old and weird and drunk at a school carnival.

Signs Your Life is Noticeably Depressing and You Need an Intervention or Oprah or Something

My family friend helpfully forwarded this to me yesterday:

Netflix and Drinks

 

She said it popped up in her sidebar and she immediately thought of me. How’s that for infamy?

She also said, “here you go, it’s all thought out for you!”. Little does she know I don’t have to think of a drink, I have a go-to already — it’s called a bottle of whatever  happens to be lying around.

And a straw if I’m feeling fancy.

 

Sometimes You Just Need a Good Laugh

Last night, a girl from the UCSB Alumni Association called to update my information, and of course to ask me, as an alumni who benefited from my UCSB degree and all the services they provided me, such as the Career Center (I don’t know where she gets her information), to help current and future Gauchos.

With the simple contribution of a “small gift” of four donations, only $200 each.

I haven’t laughed that hard all week.

Weird Things I See as I’m Minding My Own Business in My Everyday Life

Walked past El Pollo Loco and saw a man exit an ambulance-type vehicle and then enter said El Pollo Loco, headed towards the back, carrying one of those biohazard coolers designated for transporting human organs.

Am both terrified and intrigued.

I’m One Part Shirley MacClaine, One Part Arnold Schwarzenegger

Or so says Vanity Fair’s Proust Questionnaire.

Picture 5

Vanity Fair, the magazine, has a feature on the last page every month called the Proust Questionnaire, a more-or-less standardized list of short questions that famous actors, artists, writers, politicians, comedians, etc. answer for them. I love it. It’s fantastic. I got the compilation book for Christmas.

Anyway, you can take it online, which I did, and it will tell you which of the people who have taken it you’re most like.

My result?

Shirley MacClaine, followed by Ahnold.

Rarely have I been so confused.

Signs from the Universe: The Porn Industry Needs Me

Today, a nudie magazine was delivered to the office where I work.

Easily the most entertaining thing to ever happen to me here. I was content with that. I felt the universe had provided me with some amusement to tide me over, and nothing more.

And then, not ten minutes later (after I’d finished peeing my pants), I opened my email to discover this gem, from one of the (many, many) online companies that send me job postings:

God?

God?

I guess they got tired of inexplicably sending me postings for engineers, tech assistance, and a lot of other things involving a lot of math that I am in no way qualified for, and have decided to stop beating around the bush (HA!) and show me my future.

I believe in signs from the universe.

I have to say, Rack Daddy’s does sound intriguing. . .

Things that Actually Happen to Me

Yesterday I was on the freeway and I looked in my rearview mirror and saw a guy on motorcycle coming up. Except he was standing on the seat — not standing up in the seat, literally standing with his feet on the seat — which was pretty impressive given how fast he was going, if somewhat terrifying.

Not content with just defying the laws of physics and gravity, however, he also had his hand fully down his pants and he was just going for it. I don’t know if he was scratching or jackin’ it or what, but he was being really aggressive with himself.

So he pulls up next to my car and looks at me, and just carries on driving one-handed while standing on the seat. While not watching the road. At 65 miles/hour. Just staring at each other. For what felt like at least 25 minutes but which was probably closer to 1 minute.

I’m not even mad. I’m just impressed.

Things That Actually Happen to Me

Yesterday I walked to the market to get a few things for snack.

As I stand waiting for the light to change, minding my own business, an old man in a flannel shuffles up to me and loudly hisses, “I see it. You have ‘666 and wine’ written on your pants! I’ll see you there, whore. . . . (long pause) You and Burt Bacarat. . .

I simply looked at him. These were the thoughts running through my head:

I’m wearing shorts.

As if I would be wearing pants. It’s like he doesn’t know me at all.

More importantly, does he know Burt Bacarat? How the hell did he get involved in this? Of all the people. . . He’s the guy who wrote “What the World Needs Now”, yeah?

Yeah. Yeah, he is. I know that because of Austin Powers.

I should make a temporary tattoo saying 666 and wine. Sounds like a family crest motto.

And then the light changed and I walked away. He followed me for a while, and I was kind of like, am I gonna have to push an old man in the street?, but he was pretty slow so I decided I could just outrun him.

And that’s my story.

Happy weekend everyone.

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