WTF? Part 2

I need to just do this every now and then.

Is this what draws my followers?  It's not like I am running a porn site here.

*sigh*

What must my parents think?

The Accidental Racist

***The following post is being done solely for comedic purposes.  Even though the following did in fact happen (to my utmost dread), please do not think badly of me.  And whatever you do, don't unfollow me.......and if you do, then you are a fucktard twatwaffle with no sense of humor and don't deserve to follow someone as wickedly funny and insane as me in the first place.    ~Management  [PS:  I credit my sister Dawn with my new favorite term "fucktard twatwaffle".]

I was in Charlotte recently.  I (in case you don't already know) am a complete nerd.  I am a crafter/scrapbooker/artist that attends a yearly convention in Charlotte with a bunch of fellow nerdlings.

It is our Comic Con just without the fat virgin kid dressed like Wolverine.

This year there were eight of us going and we met at the Convention Center on Thursday evening.  I knew five of the chicks (the other being me), but was being introduced to two chicks I had never met.

As we stood in front of the Convention Center discussing where we would eat, my mind/eye starts to wander.  I personally could give a shit less where we would eat, I was more interested in my surroundings.  Across from the Convention Center was a field with what I learned later was laden with large pieces of art. 

I noticed (from my perspective) what appeared to be a large man with a horn of some sort standing in the center of the field.  From my angle, he looked to be playing a tune on his horn and had about five small dancing "objects' in front of him.

My first conclusion?

He must an organ grinder.

.....just without the organ.  Because it looked like he had a horn.  So perhaps he was a.....um, I don't know.....an Oboe grinder maybe?  And why did I think this?  Fuck if I know.  My guess is that I think it is the 1930s.

And these dancing "objects"? 

They must be the Capuchins monkeys that the "Oboe" grinder keeps to dance and do tricks.

And yes, all these computations were taking place while these chicks are trying to make their minds up about chow.  My brain just works like that.

There are times, my minions, when my brain fucks with me.

And then there are times when my eyes play tricks on me.

And then there are those times when my brain and eyes consort together to make me look like an asshole.  And this was one of those times.

Because before I knew it, I was shouting out "Oh my god!!!!  MONKEYS!!  Y'all, look at all of those little monkeys!!"......and pointing my finger at the scene in the field.

And AT THE EXACT SAME TIME I got "......little monkeys" out of my mouth, my brain perks up and my eyes take focus and I realize what I am really gawking at and ultimately drawing attention to:

It is a 9 foot tall STATUE of a horn player and the dancing "objects" in front of it are actually five little black children.

What.
The.
Fuck.

How the fuck do I explain this one?  Not only did my whole group hear me (including the two chicks I had just met literally three seconds before), but so did the 50 or so chicks who were also lingering around the Convention Center.  Now everyone must be thinking "Hey, who brought along the racist dickwad?"

I imagine they were wondering where I kept my sheet and when I was going to break out the cross to burn.

FAIL.

THANK GOD, I think everyone knew that it was just a mistake.  Especially when I exclaimed "Holy shit.....those aren't monkeys and now I feel like an total asshole."

And guess what?  I still do.

Even though it was just a mistake.  I should think before I do things.  Because it not only made me look bad, it made me feel bad, even though I would never had meant it the way I said it.  Also because I know people out there that would have said it and meant it.

*sigh*

BUT.....if shit like this didn't happen to me, then what the fuck would you want to read any of this shit for?

Food for thought.

Douchebag of the Month - September 2011

My father once told me:

"Patience is a virtue, Amber."

He even went so far as to purchase the Big Book of Virtues for me when I was like 10 or something.

My father, minions, is a very VERY wise man, because just yesterday I said that there would not be a Douchebag of the Month post for September and BOOM.....patience wins out and the lovely Douchebag Gods plopped quite a doozy onto my lap I must say.

What am I babbling about?

As I am typing this, my DOTM is sleeping in my guest room.  And before you ask, NO IT IS NOT MY SWEET JOSHUA.

Let me introduce you to this month's Douchebag of the Month........................(let's call him) "Mike".

Sorry, minions, for the anonymity, but when you are dealing with a family member/friend, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

It started on Tuesday night.  REALLY, it was Wednesday morning, but what ever day it was technically, it was EARLY!  Like, 1am early.  Our doorbell goes off and Sweet Joshua and I jump out of bed and automatically think "Holy shit, someone is dead".

Open the door, and there he is.  No phone call, no notice, nothing.

Apparently, the sweet person in me told him a few weeks back that if he needed a place to stay when he came into town, he could crash here.  But, common courtesy says that you CALL BEFORE YOU COME or at least give us some fucking heads up before you come pounding on the door like the fucking po-po at 1 in the morning.

Not that THAT wasn't nerve wracking enough, but then he gets an attitude because my spare room isn't ready for him.  UM HELLO.......YOU DIDN'T FUCKING CALL DUDE!!  And to actually give me shit for it, really pissed me off.

But catch Amber at the right time, she can be all forgiving; so in the morning, I am nice as pie.

"How did you sleep last night, Mike?"

Well he starts in immediately.

"Like shit!  I had to cover up with a towel (why he used a towel is beyond me seeing there is a huge fluffy blanket on the back of the couch), and then your cat made all sorts of noise last night, and I had to take the batteries out of your mantel clock because it was chiming every hour on the hour!"

YOU TOOK THE FUCKING BATTERIES OUT OF MY CLOCK?  REALLY DUDE?

Then he has a problem because we don't have decaf coffee in the house.  And when I say problem, I mean he gets snappy and fucking rude.  "What do you mean you don't have decaf coffee.  Who doesn't have decaf coffee?"

Really?

Okay, FIRST, who the FUCK drinks decaf coffee?  Isn't the whole fucking point of coffee to get you going in the morning?  And then, we don't even drink coffee, so why the fuck would we have decaf?  Again, IF HE WOULD HAVE CALLED, maybe I would have asked if he wanted coffee and I could have had it for him.

Now, if these things were not bitchy and douchey enough for you, then just HOLD ON.

I got home on Wednesday and cleaned the spare room (which is essentially a storage room).  I got out clean sheets and made the bed and all that shit.....really trying to be a nice hostess.

So this morning I get up and Mike is still in bed.  AT ALMOST 10AM!  It kinda shocked me so I asked him (trying to be polite) how he slept.

"Well, I didn't sleep for shit.  I had to sleep on top of the covers last night because you didn't put clean sheets on my bed and that bed is dirty."

What?  Come again?

Anyone who knows me knows that I AM A FUCKING CLEAN FREAK!  To say that my accommodations were dirty was like putting a knife in my heart.

I said (finally losing my cool) "What the hell are you talking about?  Those are clean sheets and NO ONE EVER SLEEPS IN HERE, so the bed is never used!!  It is FAR from dirty, it isn't even dusty much less DIRTY!!!!  Show me what you are talking about!"

So he pulls back the covers and I am staring at a clean white sheet.

"What?  I don't see anything."

"Look right here........."  Mike says and points.

I get closer.  And then closer.  And then I am practically laying on the sheet when I spot it.

A cat hair.

ONE cat hair.

A single, fucking cat hair.

I lost it.

"You mean to tell me that THIS CAT HAIR is the reason you didn't sleep last night?"

He must have sensed my all encompassing anger because he stammered and said "Well, no....I just...um.....think I didn't sleep because.....stress....um....or something....whatever.....it's okay....it's fine."

I said nothing.  I turned and walked out of the room.

He must have sensed that he pissed me off because when he saw Joshua he told him "I think I pissed off Amber this morning."

You think?  Wow.  You must be a fucking rocket scientist to have figured that one out.

*sigh*

How does this happen?  How is it that I am surrounding by the fucking asshat douchebags that think their precious princess skin will be marred if they happen to brush up against a single fucking cat hair in their bed?  Is it me?  Am I a fucking douchebag magnet or something? 

Well, THANK GOD, this douchebag got the hint.  He is avoiding me like the plague.  He is closed up in that cat hair infested bed room with the door closed and even if he paid me $100, I wouldn't re-wash those sheets if my life depended on it.

Choke on that fucking cat hair dude.

PS:  He drives a BRIGHT BLUE Mustang.  I think he is overcompensating for something, you think?