Barfight Sarah

My co-worker, who enjoys regaling us with tales of her "redneck" family, has a cousin whose nickname is "Barfight Sarah."

Her nose was broken during a tavern brawl, but she was too drunk to go to the hospital and have it set. Her nose healed in a crooked shape, and she had to get plastic surgery to fix it.

Barfight Sarah is currently pregnant with her second child during her first year of marriage to a much younger man that the family suspects is a drug dealer.

Kids, this is why you shouldn't drink.

Take Your Child (and Drama) to Work Day

Note: The nonprofit I was working for lost its funding and I lost my job, but I still have some tales to disgorge so you'll continue to see work stories. (I also do unpaid research in a lab for school, so some "work" stories are from there).

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The building had a "take your child to work day." I was put in charge of making goodie bags with candy and toys, and running the science activities. One of the admin staff was responsible for e-mailing all the parents in the building to let them know about the scheduled fun.

I later found out that Petty Woman selectively e-mailed people she got along with, or whose children were friends with her grandkids. When confronted by other staff she said "it would be too crowded" with too many kids, and arbitrarily capped the number of children allowed to 10. Not surprisingly, her 3 grandkids made the cut.

Since everyone thought that those who organized the activities (not Petty Woman) should be able to say how much was "too much," those who weren't invited brought their children anyway. Besides, if crowding really was an issue, it should have been "first come, first served," not "if I like you."

The kids that came had a great time doing science experiments, and I'm just appalled that someone would try to deprive them because she wasn't buddies with their parents.

By the way, 3 days after the event, Petty Woman told us her granddaughter lost the goodie bag. Instead of telling her, "Too bad; be more responsible with your presents," she guilted us into making a special treat bag for the kid.

Some People Never Learn

Remember the roommate who dumped her boyfriend because he was a philandering, alcoholic, compulsive gambler who threatened her?

They have rekindled their relationship.

I had trouble believing this until she started posting lovey-dovey pictures on Facebook again.

Ugh. Good luck dear.

Daddy I Want a Solid Gold Pony

My friend's sorority sister got married over a year ago. She planned her wedding, picked out a lavish gown and high-society caterer, then asked her father for $70,000.

He looked at her budget and said, "If you can cut the wedding costs down to $20,000 I will give you $50,000 cash for a down payment for a house."

Instead of considering the offer, or even negotiating for a $35,000 wedding and $35,000 cash, she said, "No Daddy. I want the whole $70,000 for the wedding."

He gave her the money and she had her party.

A year later, older and wiser, she now says, "I should have taken the house money."

You think?

When French Nails Go Wrong

I was sitting on the bus, staring at the floor, when I noticed my neighbor had the most incredible case of toe fungus ever. I wondered why she would even wear open-toed shoes out in public before the infection was cleared up by massive doses of medication.

Then I realized that she had a French manicure, but instead of having the usual white tips, asked for yellow tips.

Oy. She probably thought it would be unusual and attention-getting.

Well, it worked.

Wolves and Sheep

Listening to men talk in groups can be disturbingly vulgar, but fascinating from an anthropological point of view.

I recently overheard this gem from a group of men talking about a non-present friend, who was "chasing a chunky chick" he picked up at a bar.

Man 1: "He really needed a wingman, you know? When you got a wingman to help you out the wolves can be more selective with the sheep."
Man 2: "Shut up. You're sounding all philosophical and shit."
Man 1: "It ain't philosophical. It's all about picking out the sheep that's limping. Or the one that's gotten too fat to run with the herd."
Man 3: "Haha. Too fat to run is right in this case."

The same group of men, with a different conversation about assertiveness rubbing off on you:

Man 1: "I got more balls since I started living with my wife."
Man 3: "Maybe she gave you hers."
Man 1: "Says the guy who takes it up the ass!"
Man 3: "I still got balls."
Man 1: "Yeah, the ones that touch your ass."
Man 2: "Or the ones that touch your chin! Haha!"

I will never quite understand the other half of my species.

Ring Fund

My former co-worker (who graduated and moved across the world to find a job), is barely 21, but announced to us that he has a "ring fund."

"What?"

"I'm saving up to buy an engagement ring."

"But you don't have a girlfriend."

"So?"

Knowing what we did about him, we found it surprising that he was already planning for marriage.

By the way, so you can get a better mental picture, this is the same guy who was a car seat for Halloween.

He bought a car seat, cut arm and leg holes in it, and invited girls to sit on him.

Infertility and Infidelity

My co-worker Jane always has stories about her crazy, dysfunctional family. Today she told us one about her uncle.

Uncle and his wife had trouble conceiving a child, due to some fertility problems. The whole family knew the particulars of that particular problem because during Thanksgiving dinner, Uncle announced to everyone that he had a low sperm count.

Some time afterwards, he and his wife adopted a baby girl. A month later, his wife got pregnant. Some people thought, "Gee, doesn't it always happen that way?" However, Grandpa (Uncle's father) was suspicious. (Jane described Grandpa as "having a little more sense" and "being heavily armed.")

While his son was at work, Grandpa took his guns over to his daughter-in-law's home, and caught her with two men from the truck stop.

Grandpa chased off the other men, and wasted no time telling everyone that the bun in the oven did not belong to his son.

Poor Uncle now had two kids that he was not biologically related to. He divorced his wife, gave his adopted daughter to his mother to raise, then proceeded to "shack up with a succession of truck stop waitresses," according to Jane.

At the current time, Uncle plans to marry a nice woman who wants a Catholic wedding. This means Uncle is trying to get his first marriage annulled by the Church.

As part of the application for annulment, 7 family members have to fill out a 8-10 page questionnaire that asks for very personal details of Uncle's relationship(s).

Jane's mother is filling out one of the questionnaires, and keeps calling her to say, "You won't believe what they're asking now!"

Sisterhood Can Be Transferred

I heard something on the bus today that could be quite sinister when taken out of context.

Girl leaving someone a voice message: "Hi ____, I'm calling to talk to you about you giving your little sis(ter) to ____. We're all part of the same family, but we don't want her line to die."

They were discussing sorority business.

Oh My God You Know Him?

During my freshman year of college I lived in the dorms. One of my neighbors was a girl who was obsessed with the school's male acapella group. She went to all of their performances, and was particularly smitten with one of the singers, who went to my high school. Her dreams were crushed when we had the following conversation one day about the fellow I'll call Dirk:

Groupie: "Have you heard the [acapella group]? There's this one guy named Dirk Smith who's so cute!"

Me: "I went to high school with him."

Groupie: "Oh my god! You know Dirk Smith?"

Me: "Not really, we just went to school together."

Groupie: "That's so cool! You know Dirk Smith!"

Me: "No, we weren't friends --"

Groupie: "I can't believe you know Dirk Smith!"

Me: "We're not close or anything. We --"

Groupie (with a mixture of fear and awe): "Is he going to come visit?"

Me: "No. He's not coming to our dorm."

As the Groupie looked crestfallen, I considered whether or not to tell her he was gay. The decision was made for me when a friend walked into my room and asked, "What are you talking about?"

Groupie: "Dirk Smith!"

My friend: "The gay guy?"

Groupie: "He's gay? Really? He's gay?" (Wahhhhhhh).

I confirmed this information, but decided to spare her the pain of knowing that one of his nicknames was "man whore."

In Denial

My friend told me her boyfriend cuts her toenails for her.

After my initial reaction of "Ew" I asked why.

"He likes them a certain way."

I said, "I think he's a foot fetishist."

She was indignant. "He is not!"

"Um, he cuts your toenails. And he's not a salon employee."

"He just likes to take good care of me."

"He likes feet."

"Shut up."

Mass Shunning

My co-worker Molly came into work Monday and told me she had the most awful weekend. At the formal party she attended Saturday night, her date expressed surprise that she had romantic feelings for him.

Her reaction: "Are you retarded? We've been dating for 2 months."

His response: "I thought we were just friends. I had no idea you liked me."

She was absolutely stunned. "WTF? You thought we were friends with benefits? You asshole!"

He was very affectionate with her in public, and all her friends thought they were dating. This revelation was a complete surprise to everyone.

While Molly was in the bathroom crying, Mr. Asshole tried to smooth things over by telling Molly's friend, "Yeah, she's a beautiful girl, and really nice, but I just don't feel that way about her. "

His PR attempt backfired. The news spread through the whole party, but somehow got twisted into "Molly's an ugly bitch and I don't want to be with her."

Everyone gave him the cold shoulder, and disinvited him to their Superbowl parties the next day.

After Molly went home, she got phone calls all weekend asking how she was feeling. Mr. Asshole got messages from people chastising him. Even his frat brothers, stereotypically known for their "bros before hos" philosophy, called him and said, "That's not cool, man."

A large section of the Greek population at school hates him now. Molly sniffed to me, "Karma got him back quick. I don't feel bad for him at all."

Neither do I.

Tacky Tattoo

I had to stare for a moment to make sure what I was seeing was real, but indeed, I saw a woman with "SEX" tattooed onto her right shoulder blade. Underneath it was some type of symbol that looked like a glass patio table.

I have no idea what her motivation was, but it brings new meaning to the phrase "tramp stamp" doesn't it?

Airbrushed Wedding

The most memorable wedding favor I've ever seen was a mix CD, with a picture of the bride and groom on the front of the CD case.

The reason why it was memorable was because the bride's chest had been photoshopped - badly - to increase her cleavage.

It looked like someone had drawn )( onto her photo, in a color that didn't quite match her skin, and then used the blur tool to try to blend it in.

It didn't work.

Most Memorable Tupperware Party Ever

My boss was invited to a Tupperware party that charged an admission price of $5. She was confused, but assumed everyone was being asked to chip in for food.

She realized she was wrong when the Fedex delivery man showed up later that night for a "special delivery."

I'll give you a moment to figure it out.

Indeed, the "Fedex" guy took out a boombox and started stripping off his clothes. The $5 (times 30 people) was used to pay for his performance. A number of women also put cash tips into the box he had tied around his waist.

It was a very successful party. Apparently the stripper put the women in the mood to buy a lot of Tupperware.

Foot Connoisseur

There is an individual in the outer periphery of my circle of acquaintances that has developed a reputation for putting his foot in his mouth, mostly when talking to my friend "Terry" (who is African American).

Incident 1: A conversation with Terry
Foot Connoisseur: "What was your name again? I always get you mixed up with [your Asian friend]."
Terry: "It's Terry."
FC: "Oh, I thought it was Tamesha or something. You know, like Tamesha Brown? I love names like that. Names like Tamesha Brown, or Shamika Jones, or . . ."
Terry: (confused look)

We thought this was funny because he meant well, but later mishaps proved how awkward he could be in his quest to be "helpful."

Incident 2: Terry was wearing golden chandelier earrings
FC: "Hey, I like your earrings. They're uh, really African."
Terry: (WTF?)

Incident 3: Terry was considering auditioning for a part in a show
Another Foot-Eater: "I don't think you're right for the part."
Terry: "Do you mean I'm not talented enough?"
AFE: "No, but I guess you could wear whiteface."
FC: "That's a great idea!" (with earnest enthusiasm)
Everyone else: "Are you crazy?"

The Foot Connoisseur developed such a reputation that when I showed up to a party wearing an Asian qipao someone said, "I bet you anything when [Foot Connoisseur] sees you he'll say something culturally insensitive." Then everyone burst into giggles. Sadly, he did not show up until the very end, and had no time to say anything memorable.

However, he made up for it later, during his clumsy attempt at informing my Jewish friend that she didn't look Jewish. He reached out, tweaked her nose, and said she "lacked the Ashkenazi schnoz."

I'd label him a harmless fool, if not for his unfortunate habit of stepping on other people's feet.

Neon Wedding

My friend was hired to make custom pillows and drapes for a wedding. She showed me the fabric, which made me cringe.

The first fabric was HOT PINK with a raised swirl pattern. (My friend called it "Hello Kitty fingerprints"). The material felt odd to the touch, like some combination of acrylic and paper.

I was in awe that someone over the age of 13 would use those at all, much less at a wedding.

Then my friend showed me some furry, neon green fabric destined to become pillows for the same wedding. Imagine if someone had kidnapped a group of Sesame Street characters, spilled radioactive waste on them, and skinned the especially shaggy ones. Voila, pillow shams.

I was speechless, but that was not the end. Visualize chartreuse satin napkins with hot pink rhinestones. Also, think about bright yellow and orange ottoman covers.

I think the wedding hall will look like they hired a Technicolor clown to toss his blindingly bright cookies all over the venue.

What surprised me the most was hearing that the wedding coordinator they were using refused to accept any weddings with budgets less than $100,000.

When your wedding costs about the same as the gross national product of a fourth-world country, maybe you should hire a coordinator who can convince you to not take acid when planning your wedding.

Lassi Loves You!

I had a very long, busy week where I was running on about 5 hours of sleep each night in order to get everything accomplished. (I normally like at least 8 hours).

However, my precious few hours of sleep were interrupted by a neighbor in my apartment complex, who decided to have a very enthusiastic cell phone conversation outside my window. He was standing in the carport area and yelling, which was entirely unnecessary, given the echo effect of the location.

He was chattering in a foreign language I did not understand, except for the "Halleluuuu" sprinkled here and there.

As mad as I was, I could not help feeling it was very funny that he concluded the conversation by screaming, "Lassi love you! Lassi looooove you! Lassi loooooove youuuuuu'uuu'uuuuuuuu!" (Yes, he added in extra syllables I did not know existed).

An Alternate Use for Bras

The most important thing my high school chemistry teacher taught me was to wear sunblock. She was a fitness nut who ran to school everyday in lieu of driving. She had leathery, patchy skin that made her look at least 10 years older than she really was.

However, the most memorable thing about my teacher was that each day she came to school wearing running shorts and a sports bra with a CD player shoved down the front.

Yes, inside the bra. Next to her . . . um, skin.

Sure, this was in ye olden days before iPods and other compact music players but for the love of milk and cheese, was there really no better place to put a 6-inch wide piece of electronic equipment than down the front of a brightly colored spandex bra?

So now you know, your sports bra can double as a music sling.

Really Bad Pie

Once someone baked me a pie, which was a very nice gesture, but it tasted absolutely awful.

Luckily, when he presented me with the pie he forgot to bring forks. Therefore, I did not have to pretend to enjoy it in front of him. Instead, I took the pie home and was privately horrified at how something could taste that bad.

Parts of it were cooked while large portions still had raw dough. On top of that, there was a strange, sour, yeasty taste to it. To this day I am not sure what flavor the pie was supposed to be. When I asked him he said, "It's called magic pie."