Now THAT was Awkward!

You know those moments in your life when you have to cringe at how awkward they are? You know you have a few you'd like to forget. Or even for the friends who witnessed the fucktard comedy of errors to erase from their memory. For example, barfing in school. I was lucky enough to pass through all 16 years of my educational path without hurling chunks in the classroom. If this happened to any of you, you KNOW how God damned shitty and awkward that is. I can still remember the kid who barfed during a 1st grade field trip to a planetarium. He had red Kool Aid and Cheez-Its in his brown paper lunch bag. And about 2 minutes into the in-the-dark solar system show, he yacked his lunch on the floor a mere two seats away. I can still recall the tangy odor, the fact that they refused to let us exit until the whole show was over (fuckers), and the shame this poor kid faced returning to school later that week. He was branded as "The Puker". That shit's hard to live down. There are some moments, though none as terrible as barfing in school, that have happened to me.

One of said moments, which I have referenced before in an earlier account, was when I vacationed in Mexico this year. I decided, with little forethought, that packing some "toys" for our romantic vacation might be a little fun. Because why would it ever occur to me, Miss Uber-American Tourist, that they might check my luggage while I pass through customs? We had met up with one of Sultan's co-workers and his wife at the airport, a couple I had never met before, and they passed through security easily. They pressed a little button and theirs came up green. Yay for them. But when we pressed the same button, it was as red as a baboon's ass. Fuck me. I literally started sweating and my colon was cramping up in fear. The woman who was clothing raping the luggage looked warily at me as my 'stache sweat began to bead up on my upper lip. I began to mentally prepare myself for the scenarios that could ensue. Best case scenario, she gropes the top layer and lets me go. Worst case scenario, she pulls out a sex toy and somehow the love stick begins gyrating as she raises it over her head in frantic abandon.
"Es esta una bomba o un DILO????!!!" she screams as I get dragged away by two swarthy Mexican guards.
Man, let's hope I like what's behind door #1.
I approach her station and try not to look like I'm smuggling condoms of heroin in my asshole. But I know I already do. Sultan notices my angst level and tells me to chill the fuck out. Breathe. Breathe. Fucking breathe....
She makes eye contact and I swear, for a mere split second, though the language barrier between the two of us was vast, I spoke Spanish with my eyes and told her what was up in that suitcase. She gave me a knowing smile, patted my top layer softly, and closed the suitcase lid. Halle-fuckin-luja!!!!!!! I whipped that little fucker out in the cab and drained the batteries on the way to the hotel.

My next awkward situation never ceases to astound me every time it happens. Those of you who know me well know I have a bit of a problem when I go shopping, be it for crafts, groceries, furniture, or clothing. My colon goes into spastic rapid release mode and I have approximately 3.2 minutes to find the nearest restroom to take care of it. I have learned I am not alone in my affliction. Because you can sure-as-shit (bad pun, I know) bet that if there is a singular bathroom to be occupied, there is someone in there dropping a deuce. And I have long since given up on my Shit-iquette. If I have to drop a load, I am going to do it. Have you never read the book "Everyone Poops"? Get over yourself and your uptight rectum. I cannot believe people STILL think that when they are in the lone shitter in all of the store, after they hear someone jiggle the knob, the universal signal for "Hey, I have to shit, too! Don't hog all the toilet paper!", they don't pinch it off and get a move on. I can't even count the number of times a mom will walk out, wave their hand in front of their nose, declare, "This store has the WORST bathroom conditions! You do NOT want to go in there!" Really, lady? I am prairie-dogging right now so I don't CARE if your stanky ass left a steam trail. I am only going to add to that aroma chaos, and so will at least one of my shopping-triggered crapping kids. It's shadoobie festival, they might as well hand out People magazines and some Lysol. Don't pretend it was some phantom shitter who made their get-away in their brown cape and muddy boots. Please. Now light a match already, it fucking stinks in there.

Most awesome awkward moment: I taught a little person in one of my ballet classes two years ago. Both of her parents are little people, too. (I am obsessed in a very unhealthy way with TLC programming so I have taken a liking to little people and the 25 shows there are currently being broadcast about them.) The mother of my student also happens to work as a pre-school teacher where I teach dance classes. We have an annual staff Christmas party and this past year, I arrived late with the dance department because I had to teach. This meant everyone who showed up on time took full advantage of the open bar and was nicely lit by the time we arrived. Little person mom was pretty buzzed when I saw her wander over to say hello. Then I realized a few things. #1) Drunk people cannot hide what they are thinking, especially with the way their eyes wander. #2) Little people pretty much come up to your waist, if you are conversing with an average-sized little person. #3) Platform stilettos make you really tall when you are already 5'9". #4) A super short holiday dress plus hooker heels plus one drunk little person equals a new TLC show: "Little Teacher, Tall Beaver-Shot Ballet Teacher". You know you would at least Tivo the first episode.

Moobs

Just got back from some family fun time, a la Griswold Vacation. We visited what is heralded as "The Waterpark Capital of the World": Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. Not sure who exactly knighted this small town with this title but there are a shit-storm of water parks so I'll let it slide. We spent four days eating mediocre, over-priced food, getting turbo wedgies and high colonic cleansing on water slides, and gawking at the array of people parading through these parks in their swim attire. It was like an Old Country Buffet just for people watching and I was fresh off a carb cleanse and ready for some fulfillment.

The number one physical epidemic I witnessed was the hundreds of boys and grown men apparently attending a National Moobs Convention. What are moobs you ask? Well they are also referred to as man boobs, gynocomastic breasts, muggs (man jugs), or bitch tits. Like women's tits, men have a huge variance of shapes and sizes they wear proudly on their man racks. Some are saggy, some are long and low, some are connected to a tube of back fat which wraps around the back, some have giant pepperoni nipples, some are covered with greying hair, some are sunburned..... but they all have one thing in common. They are fucking NASTY!!!!! Do some God damn push ups, wear a T-shirt, hell, get some lipo on those bitches. Gentleman, you are not supposed to have tits. Period. Generally a first warning sign you might be growing your very own pair of fun bags is when your gut protrudes far enough out you cannot see your own dick. Seek a personal trainer because your tits are about to sprout. If you can no longer see your dick OR your feet, well then you are just fucked. You might as well go to Victoria's Secret to get yourself a bra because your back is going to hurt like a mother carrying those melons around.

When did this become so commonplace for men to have breasts? Were there dads and school friends of mine with boy titties when I was younger and I was just too oblivious to notice? 'Cause I have a penchant for making fun of people's physical deformities and you can sure-as-shit bet I would have jumped on that bandwagon. I witnessed one teenager covering his chest with folded arms, which was no easy task considering the set he was sporting. He was clearly embarrassed and wanted no one to see the moobs. Then he went to get a brat and chips for lunch. And probably some frozen custard later on. Dude, you are only hurting yourself here. And your chances for ever getting a blow job.

No woman wants a dude with bigger tits than them. I have a pretty decent sized rack, some days in can be a downright nuisance. But I also have a vagina so it makes it acceptable. I honest-to-God saw some men with jugs larger than mine. Even with a serious commitment to cheese curds, naps, and beer pong marathons, I think it takes a unique set of genes to accomplish this growth. Now along with these chesticles, they also had a belly bigger than a 5-in-1 bouncy house but it still made me wonder. And then gag and verp a little in my mouth. Next year I will find you, oh elusive National Moobs Convention. Until then, enjoy those cheese curds, boys.