Well shit Mom!!

So best friend comes over and gets me outta bed the other day. I shower, get dressed, pack my shit for a sleep over, and finally get out of the house. Betty White (best friend's bug) is out of commission currently so he had his mom's car. It was time to go pick her up from work in the next town over, about a 30 minute drive. So I throw my shit in the back (or so i thought...) and hop in the front. I notice a slight stench and say "Something smells funk." But we continue on and I don't think much more of it. We're havin' a great time, laughin' and listening to techno raver music much too loud (UNTZ, UNTZ, UNTZ, etc....) while chain smoking in a line of cars waiting to pick up their children, who are starting to pour out of an elementary school. (yeah, we're bad ass' influencing your youth. Smoking is cool, can it really be denied?) Best Friend says "YEAH! WE'RE HERE TO SELL YOUR KIDS ECSTASY!" Laughter ensues. Suddenly the stench returns with a vengeance. Best friend says it's me and I reply with "OH NO YOU DI'NT!" while beginning to smell my clothes and body. I come out of the smelling contest innocent. We continue driving while trying to find the origin of the putrid smell for about 20 minutes, me continuing to defend my un-smellyness. I finally find the general area of the odor, and it's in the passenger foot space. I smell my purse, which is at my feet. No. I smell a pair of shoes chillen down there. Not that. I smell an umbrella also at my feet. Nope. I take off my shoe and smell inside it. Not coming from there. Now its been about a half an hour of laughing and searching for the rancid stench. Then i notice a smear of mud in the foot area. "Is that poo?" Bron asks. "Is what poo?" Best friend responds. "That!" as I point at the little smudge mark. "You probably stepped in shit." Best friend jokes, and as we both laugh I lift up my foot and say "Nuh uh! Loo...." and on the bottom of my shoe..... a huge chunk of just that. Hysteria of full fledged belly laughs erupt as i struggle to get out the words "pu...HAHAHA....pull...HAHAHAHAHAHA.... pull.... HAHAHAHAHAH.... over... HAHAHAHA" We finally see a gas station and I get out and rub my shoe on the curb. I can't help but laugh even harder as a huge chunk of shit is left on the curb and people are starting to stare. (refer to picture below) Best Friend throws the umbrella out the car door, and as he does so we realize quickly that there are fair sized chunks of shit all over the passenger foot area, because the umbrella throwing caused these chunks to fly all over the car. We look at the mat, and what i thought were chunks of mud earlier, I immediately realize are actually chunks of poo from my shoe all over the mat. Now, this isn't some old piece of crap car (though at this moment, it was full of it). This is Best Friend's mother's $40,000 Audi. Who enjoys a clean, non-smelly, NON POO FILLED, $40,000 Audi. "Shit," I think, quite appropriately. So the laugh fest goes on as I clean out the car 'till there's no remnants of poo to be seen. Whew, mother-finding-poo-in-expensive-car crisis averted. I swear Best Friend to secrecy, and we head to pick her up. She decides she wants to drive, and takes the same route we took earlier. Nothing out of the ordinary really, it's the quickest way back home. Best Friend keeps giving me looks from the passenger seat as i try not to laugh from the back. (I know, we're like 12 year olds.) Then suddenly, a slight detour. To a freakishly familiar looking gas station. BF's mom wants to buy some smokes, and happens to stop at the gas station we were just at. I'm trying so hard not to laugh while the irony of the situation is starting to hit me. As BF's mom gets out, she says "Ick. It's smelly out here!" I hold a ridiculously large burst of laughter in as well as i can till she enters the store, then roaring explodes from the Audi. "Of all the gas stations, she stops HERE?!" I say between laughs. I have no idea how shit like this always happens to us, but somehow, it does.

(Actual picture of crime scene)

Eight Legged Freaks: The Sequel

So apparently, Hollywood decided shooting "Eight Legged Freaks: The Sequel" would somehow be beneficiary to the world. They also made an executive decision to shoot it at an exclusive location, and not tell the owners of said location about it. This location... is my bedroom. With my bed being one of the main props of the movie. They seem to enjoy late night shooting, i found out last night, when one of these ridiculously large 'Freaks' started darting across my bed (while i was laying in it) helter skelter at 3:30 am. As you can imagine, i didn't remain in my bed for long. The inevitable screaming that was escaping my mouth as the 'Freak' continued to run full speed all over my bed woke up my sister, and she came in asking what was going on. My attempts to speak at moments like this resemble something of a retarded person with a speech impediment trying to warn the town's folk of a creature, whom he just moments before, witnessed killing 5 people. My sister has known me for 21 years now, so she caught on pretty quickly to what was going on. "Where is it?" she asked a traumatized me. I pointed. "That is big!" Sister exclaims. 'YA THINK?!' my mind says, but i know i need sister on my side at this moment, and me having just woke her up at 3:30 am, i conclude that keeping this thought to myself is best. "KILL IT!" comes freely from my mouth about every 5 seconds, though. She finally meanders over to my bed, shoe in hand, and she sees the opportunity. BAM! Shoe connects to bed, and 'Freak' runs even faster all over. A miss. Now sister is jumping away scared as the 'Freak' seems to puff itself up and appear even bigger than before. I'm having a bit of a breakdown over in an open area of my room where i am able to spot any freaks that may appear from nowhere, and as the running and puffing of the 'Freak' begins, I'm doing a sort of dance and cannot watch where the 'Freak' is headed. Then i get the best news of the night. "It went into your blankets." sister tells me. Shit. Sister's getting pissed because she has to be up in a few hours for work, and i tell her to go back to bed and that I'm going upstairs to sleep on the couch. I just hope that the director fuck of this evil movie got the shots he needed, because i was out of there faster than Chester the Cheetos Cheetah on the scent of a cheesy delight.

A well earned and deserved rant.

So i was just upstairs and overheard something my mom was watching on the television. It was a show called Entertainment Tonight, and i heard, "And when we come back, the best and worst celebrity of the day!" And i thought "What the fuck?" So basically, if you have any talent at all and manage to make a career out of it, you no longer qualify as a person. Your a celebrity, therefore you forfeit all rights for anyone to treat you with decency. You couldn't possibly have feelings, of course. Because, like i said, you no longer qualify as a human being. Hey ET cunt! How about we take every mistake you ever made, and broadcast it on national television, eh? Better yet, why not every living soul on this planet be judged instantly for every mistake they make, huh? All for the sake of entertainment, of course. Again, celebrities don't have feelings or lives, so we're completely free to exploit and demean them in any and every way possible. Thank you, and kindly fuck off now.

One HELL of a weekend.

So the first time Bron decided to partake in the timeless ritual we refer to as "getting trashed," it turned out to be quite the night. I was at my friend's house, whose parent's most definitely enjoyed their drink. If you know what I'm sayin'. So, naturally, there was a cabinet full of just about every top of the line liquor money could buy. I was in heaven. Being alcohol virgins, and me having parent's who haven't drinken any sort of alcohol since 1973, we had no idea what we were getting into. Me, especially. We started grabbing at random bottles that looked interesting and started swigging. "Ick. This one's gross." To the next attractive looking bottle. "Hmm.. this one's ok." And to the next. This went on for far too long and i was wondering why i didn't feel this whole 'drunk' thing I had heard so much about. "Hmm..." I thought, "Oh well," as i found myself in a good mood with no idea why. Nor did i wonder why, that thought never occurred. Well, i was 15 at the time, so of course there was a 'super, great, had to be there, football game' to attend. We were a few blocks away, so we started walking there. All i remember once we got there was feeling like one of my guy friends was suddenly my best friend and spending far too much time sitting next to him with my arm around his shoulder and head laying against him. He asked first mentioned friend if we had been drinking. (duh) Then he asked if he could drink too. So we made our way back to her house for some more boozing. Great idea! We get there, and i continue to drink.... and drink... and drink some more. Now i was nearing a state of confusion, and had no idea why. Next thing I remember, we were walking back to the football game. Halfway to the football game, there was a field we had to walk through. I next found myself laying in said field throwing up a lot and hearing the guy friend from earlier (who was also laying a few feet away from me) tell my friend "Turn her on her side so she doesn't choke." Next thing I recall after that, I was laying in my friend's bed alone, with no recollection of how i got there, and then back to the abyss. There were moments after this that i recall that were a lot like those scenes in those movies where people are really sick and passing from unconsciousness to consciousness. You know, the black screen slowly parting to a blurry screen, then back to the blackness. During one of these moments i remember seeing my friend's Aunt above me putting a washcloth on my forehead. Then the blackness lasted quite awhile. I woke up the next morning feeling a lot like death, as you can imagine, and in new clothes. My friend told me the clothes from last night were covered in puke. "Great," I thought, as the mention of the word 'puke' arose new feelings in my stomach. Well, there was a birthday party (without booze, which sounded great at this moment) at another friend's house that night. Me and first mentioned friend were planning on going, and shocker, we went. At some point during that night, an accident occurred. It happened very fast, but this is what I recall. Another friend said, "Hey, lets go swing!" We were at the bottom of a hill, and the swing was at the top. We turn to go up the hill, and I see a guy coming down toward us on a bike. I stand there, STILL somehow not fully there from the night before, waiting for him to stop. He obviously knows he's going to hit me. Yet he seems to just continue gaining speed straight towards me (I found out later there were actually no brakes on this bike). Suddenly I realize, as he's about to hit me, "He's gonna hit me." Again, brain working in slow-mo. So at the last second i attempt to jump out of the way, but instead end up jumping ONTO the bike and thrown pretty hard to the ground. I'm still in a daze at what just happened as everyone is laughing around me. Two friends run over, and the first says "I wish i would have gotten that on camera! (still cracking up) It was like one of those moments from Funniest Home Videos! (still cracking up)" The other friend (cracking up) says, "Are you ok?" At this question i decide i should probably figure that out, and assess myself. "My knee doesn't feel good," I say, and the other friend helps me up and about 15 feet to the deck. I then realize my leg feels wet for some reason, and lift up my pant leg. Blood, and lots of it, at my ankle. I follow the trail and lift my pant leg further, and find my knee eventually, pouring blood. Same friend helps me walk (which is quickly becoming more difficult by the second) to the kitchen to have the birthday girl's mother clean and patch me up. By the time we make it to the kitchen, my knee is considerably swollen. I'm finally patched and cleaned as much as possible, and head back to the party. Walking anywhere is becoming increasingly difficult, and after it takes me about 10 minutes to climb down a flight of stairs, i decide sitting for the rest of the party might not be a bad idea. I go home eventually and tell my parent's what had happened. My knee is about twice the size it should be, and walking from point A to point B takes around 5 times longer than it should. I see the doctor Monday, and he says i hit a tendon in my knee and that i should stay home from school for about a week and try to rest. To me, this sounds great. When I'm finally forced to go back to school, I'm allowed to use the 'off limits elevator' and think this is all pretty fantastic. Today, 6 years later, i still have a scar on my knee and if you feel the scar, a little hole in my knee cap. Great fun for grossing out people with weak stomachs.

The night Best Friend became Best Friend

He called me up. I had known him for quite awhile, but we never hung out just me and him before. Me and one of my other friends went and picked him up in my old civic hatchback, or, better known as Betsy. We got best friend and went to another friend's house. First mentioned friend and last mentioned friend needed privacy, and best friend recommended we go to 7-11. So off we went. He went through my Cd's, and found Fleetwood Mac. OH HOW WE SANG THAT NIGHT! Horribly, actually, is how we sang. But with all the heart we had. We finally get to 7-11 and get our Slurpee's and a couple taquitos. Best friend recommends we open the back of the hatch back up and sit in the back. Bron agrees. We both do so. It must be known that Betsy was a beater car. A junker. A hooptie. Essentially, a piece of crap. BUT a dependable old piece of crap. It was always a love/love relationship. ANYWAYS, back to 7-11. Betsy's trunk hood-like thing would stay up as long as it felt, then randomly drop so hard you heard a crunch from my head one time and i had to yell because it hit my leg so hard. We learned fairly quickly to position ourselves to hold it up. I might have said the day after this that our moods and behavior were caused by a Slurpee high, which is far beyond any sugar high. But I know better now. Me and best friend were just meant to be friends. We bring out the best in each other, and are 94.73% of the time laughing. We were discussing how much we wanted a cigarette and started asking random strangers if they could spare one. (we were both underage at the time) We were laughing much too loudly and could have cared less. (I've never actually understood that phrase. Shouldn't it technically be COULDN'T care less, since you don't care at all? Anyways, I'm getting sidetracked again...) We looked at the time and realized we had been sitting there laughing for hours. Best Friend said, "What should we tell them we've been doing when we get back?" and I respond with, "You know. Chillen at 7-11. Slurpin on a Slippie." I think the loudest outburst of laughter for that night occured after that statement. From then on, Bron and Best Friend were inseparable.

The Beginning

October 20th, 1987

When i was born, my mother got to hold me and then i was sent off to one of those old-school, view the screaming, crying, newborns rooms. So cold, so bright, so alone, except for 20 other angry newborns and a nurse. While hangin' out in this room, clearly having the time of my life, a baby girl gets picked up by a nurse and gets to go back to see her loving mommy. "Lucky bitch," my newborn brain thinks as i go on with the screaming and crying. Unbeknownst to me, this 'lucky bitch' gets taken away from the torture chamber, mistaken as me, to see MY mommy. It was supposed to be my turn to go my to my mommy's warm arms, and this 'bitch' is trying to steal my brand new life! Great hospital, i gotta tell ya. Luckily, when my mom was handed this 'bitch,' she takes one look and pushes her away and says, "This is not my baby." As this mix-up is being fixed, me and the 'bitch' pass by each other close enough for me to give her what she has earned for this little plot. A bitch slap, of course. I don't even want to think where i would be now had my mom not spotted the imposter.

Death on the Highway

So about a month ago, me and my best friend were headed into town to the laundromat. He lives just off the highway, so obviously, we take that into town. We were reaching just the end of it, and came to a stop light. The beetle dies just as light turns green. Well this is a '76 VW Beetle, so it's obviously a stick, and i don't think much of the fact that it died. Until it doesn't start back up. And suddenly, cars are whizzing by at a surprising rate for being near the end of the highway. I tell best friend, "When it's clear, I'll jump out and push." I watch the oncoming cars intently waiting for the opportune moment, while waving cars around us, and then i spot it. I jump out onto the highway, run to the back of the beetle, and start pushing. This sounds easy enough, considering it is a '76 VW beetle, but when your cracking up the entire time and pushing from a dead stop, it makes things a little more difficult. I push us halfway off the 2 lane highway, and best friend gets out and starts pushing while steering. (thanks for doing that earlier when we were at the dead stop, btw) And when we're nearly there, a very nice stranger appears from nowhere and helps us finish the push. I look back and see that he had put his car in park in the far lane of the highway, and came to help us. Best friend and i quickly say our thanks as we approach the hill we were pushing towards, and hop in and cross our fingers for a sort of push-start for the beetle. And... success. Betty White lives on!! (name of best friend's beetle)