Part of me thinks I should ride off into the sunset, fade
away into nothing, wash my hands and close the final chapter on a blogging
career that has been a little over mediocre thus far. However, after what
happened Sunday night with the fandemonium over my public groping in a Mexican
restaurant, I don’t think there is any way to top my accidental sexual slide
into second base.
Maybe it was the humor of the story, or maybe the Internet
is just infested with pornographic-driven searches that direct people to
targeted websites that have the word “boob” in the title. At this point I can’t
be certain, but I will say that stories about me feeling up a woman in public sure
put a smile on your face. And after all is said and done, I really don’t think
there is any way I can top Sunday’s post.
Unless I tell you yet another embarrassing moment from my
life.
For some reason you all love to hear about the stories of my
life. Stories that range from awkward break up text messages sent to former
girlfriends, or stories when I took Charles Manson’s niece out to dinner.
Whatever it is, you love to hear the stories of my life. And so with that being
said, and the fact that God gave me a high enough self-esteem to be able to
publically embarrass myself on the Internet, I thought I would share with you
yet another brief moment of complete and total shame.
Now don’t raise your expectations by any means. This is not
a one-upper post that will make you laugh uncontrollably over my humiliation and
for some reason has something to do with my inexperience in human sexual
functions. There is absolutely no way this embarrassment can top my public
groping in Mexican restaurants in any way possible. But, this might be a pretty
good story to giggle over for a few minutes and could perhaps inspire a few
likes and shares on the Internet here and there.
You be the judge.
For full effect, download “I Live For The Applause” by Lady
Gaga and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.
Cut to the fall of 2007 where a more ignorant, more
disrespectful, more plump version of my sarcastic self was seated on the front
row of my Integrated Oral Presentations class, listening to a stick figure in
earrings begin the opening line to her overly dramatic speech on a particular issue
that she was dealing with in her life.
Stick Figure: “Honestly, out of all of the trials and
disabilities that I have had to overcome, something that I have had the hardest
time handling is coming to the realization that I…am…bulimic.”
Cue awkward silence with cricket chirps for a good solid three
seconds of class time while we as an audience digested her opening line. (And
yes, pun intended)
Jerkoff Me Trying To Lighten The Mood: “You can read minds?”
For the record, if you have not seen the film Zoolander at
this point in your life, please do not think that I am:
A. Some complete and total prick
B. Ignorant of eating disorders
or C. Breaking the Cardinal sin of poking fun at a woman’s
weight. After all, I was raised in a home with 11 women and a Father who cried
at Nike commercials, I know what is right and wrong in a female’s mind. I was
simply replaying one of the best all-time scenes in the history of movies based
off of male models, and trying to lighten the mood for a stick figure looking for
comfort as she exposed her deepest, darkest secrets to her classmates.
Cue the extended silence as the toothpick with long brown locks
gave me a death stare that would have melted a hole through Kanye West’s ego.
Douchebag Me: “Zoolander…? Anyone…?” I looked around for any
sign of approval as the rest of the class and my Professor Eric Young reigned
down hellfire upon my soul with their scowls of disapproval.
Stick Figure: “No. Bulimia is not funny at all. What kind of
jerk are you? GEEZ!!”
She continued on with her speech meanwhile I folded my arms
and bowed my head like a disfigured runt puppy showing any sliver of respect
that I could to a toothpick in a blouse who from that point on had the legal
rights to give me a full-on castration without anesthesia whenever and wherever
she would like.
Once those vile words were spit from my mouth I was the
Devil’s child to my classmates, the spawn of Satan, a despicable creature who thought
poking fun at eating disorders was a civilized form of humor. Granted, none of the
old farts in my class had ever seen the glorious spoof on male modeling known
as Zoolander, but regardless, I was a dead man to them.
Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted out that movie quote with the
hopes of getting a few chuckles. Or maybe I shouldn’t have attempted to lighten
the mood on a serious issue that millions of people struggle with every day.
Heck, maybe I shouldn’t have even gotten out of bed that morning. Regardless, there
is one thing I did learn that day from my imitation of Ben Stiller that in my
mind is still as clear as crystal.
Never use Bulimia in a punchline.
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