This weekend I sat in a room at a table with women. Total upgrade from usual posse. A 5 yr old, 4 yr old and a 2-year-old. There was actually less yelling at the women’s table believe it or not.
The conversation was about weddings and how much ones should cost, taxes, mortgages, blah blah blah. I sat there and pretended to be interested. I was the only one at the table with kids and I was the least boring one. What the hell!
Are women normally this boring? Cause I don’t wanna be a woman. Is there a plan C?
I was cracking jokes and trying to liven the conversation to anything. Truth be told I know nothing of weddings. I didn’t have one. I went to the court-house to get hitched. May I remind you that is how Carrie Bradshaw and BIG did it in Sex and the City! Total chic people!!
Weddings are as foreign to me as fancy undies. Fancy undies prick me. So do weddings. Would I have liked one ? Sure, but only if you would pay for it. Actually I just would like to wear a dress once and have a reception cause I love to dance.
Yet these ladies were talking about “destination weddings” and catering. This is when it hit me.
I am low maintenance! And I do not know another chick who is not! That made me sad.
Either I am dying breed or Thank God I am a dying breed!
Catering? Yes they want servers to serve caviar and crackers with goo on them. What happened to bbq catering?!?! Or damn it a simple steak order? Ok I get it. It’s a wedding and its suppose to be fancy. However. I never got the book on fancy. So excccuuusssse meeee!
They also talked about wedding budgets. I was floored with their price ranges. $20,000? Thats insane! Then it hit me. I am a dying breed! My soul is from the 40’s!
The conversation went on to home buying and loans and my buzz was gone. I felt like I was at work. I probably either look bored or lost cause of one the girls asked me, “Right Marina?”
“Oh yea I completely understand.” But no I didn’t.
Where do women like Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte live?
What did I wanna talk about?
Maybe movies, possible tattoos, gun shot wounds, sex (yours not mine), drunk experiences, stupid things men do, fat people in Wal-Mart, music, stupid shit, funny shit, scary shit, anything shit. Just not boring regular life shit.
Well that’s what this blog is for. To put out the random shit I wanna say in public but can’t.
So what do I wanna talk about?
In seventh grade in art class, my art Navajo teacher was drawing at his desk while us students who were suppose to be drawing were fooling around. Someone made a loud pop sound and the teacher jumped out of his chair. We did know at the time that he was a vet from Vietnam. What we didn’t know was that he was fucking crazy!
After he practically hit the roof from the loud sound, he looked at with anger. I think for a moment he lost it and was sent spiraling back to the war days. He kept telling us to get down and was telling us in military sign launguage that he was watching us. I was like damn it we are going to die. I knew he carried a knife on his ankle because I has seen it. Old man usually equals high watered pants. I was not ready to be scalped.
He started to talk to us in his Navajo language. Nobody moved a muscle. After awhile when it was absolutely quiet and we all were stunned, he came over to my area and said “No loud sounds ever!”
He told us he has served in the Vietnam was and it made him a little jittery. A little? Then he smiled and asked if we all wanted to see his bullet wound. As morbid and stupid teens, we were all game.
So he undid his pants, turned around and showed his ass! Yes there was a bullet wound. It looks like a wrinkled crater. But that ass! That ass scared me. To Death. Now I all about the cocoa butter. It does put the lotion on the skin!!!
May I never see a flat wrinkled ass like that again!
See if someone told me a story like that … well they would have gotten a ribbon for best story-teller of the day. And I would have shared my alcohol!