This shirt is “dry-clean only”…which means it’s dirty

Awkward. Fucking awkward. I’ve been through my fair share of awkward moments; hell, everyone has! But up until this weekend I did not truly know what awkward meant. I think I did, but I didn’t.  I so didn’t. It’s like when you’re young and you steal your mom’s car

"Will you let me off with a warning?"

"I swear they came out of nowhere, officer!"

and you’re like “Of course I can drive! A trained monkey could, why couldn’t I?” and after you crash the thing into a tree it hits you: You don’t really know how to drive.

But I digress. The story is as follows: There’s this friend of mine who I consider to be one of the closest persons to me. He has done a shitload of stuff for me so it is only logical that I can’t refuse when he asks for a favor. So last Saturday we were chillin’ at some friend’s house and he said that he had to leave early cause he was supposed to accompany his girlfriend to a party from a friend of hers (her best male friend, mind you… though I’m quite positive this friend of hers is either gay or bi-curious).

The thing was, he barely knew anyone at the party. It was going to be an excruciating evening for him. So he asked me to go along and I accepted. I mean… what could go wrong?

"Don't mind me, I'm just changing the fuse. My wife and eleven children will be so proud!"

What could POSSIBLY go wrong?

Yeah. Let me tell you what could go wrong. We arrived at about half past eleven so the party was already going on. We went in and greeted the birthday boy and then my friend’s girlfriend left us alone to greet her other friends. So both of us were talking to each other since we didn’t know anybody else there; and then it hit me: WE DIDN’T KNOW ANYBODY ELSE THERE. It was a birthday party, and I hadn’t been invited! I crashed the guy’s birthday party! With a poker face!

Oh but it gets better. I realized lots of people were looking at us (mostly staring at me) and talking about us. The house was pretty small, like REALLY fucking small. Lady Gaga’s sex-

"I know what you did last summer."

"You're not from around here, are you boys?"

appeal? Yeah, smaller than that. (I’m not being douchy, I want to make a point: There was nowhere we could “hide”). So I took my friend near an open door that led to a garden and told him that this was way too fucking awkward, that the party was terrible (it was) and the house was smaller than Tottenham’s trophy gallery. (It’s small, for you non-footies, a.k.a. ballet dancers). So everywhere we stood we would be blocking someone’s way.

So I proceeded to try and escape through the open door I was talking next to, only to realize the birthday boy’s mother, father, grandparents, little sister, priest, homoerotic partner and puppy were standing there, listening to every word I said and looking at me in the most judgmental way possible.

After the intensive therapy, he realized he was no pegasus.

I'm out, bitches!

At that point I was like fuck it, time to bust. But no, destiny still hadn’t had the last laugh. At that exact second someone (curse the motherfucker) yelled – “IT’S TWELVE O’CLOCK!” – and everyone ran towards the birthday boy who happened to be a meter away from me. Did I mention the house was small? I was in the middle between the devil and the deep blue sea. I couldn’t take anymore nor could my friend. We both gave the most awkward birthday greeting to the guy and ran like fuck. Fucking Usain Bolt ain’t got nothing on us. We got to his car and busted out. I guess his girl will understand.

Varg seems pleased. Let's keep it that way.

Now, the only thing that can take my mind away from that is some good old Black Metal, the church burning kind. I’ll leave you with a song from Mr. Church Burner himself: Varg Vikerness, also known as Burzum (Or Vargy I hear his mother calls him). This is my favorite song from his latest album and if you don’t like it keep it to your fucking self. Do you really want to piss off a guy who burns churches and stabs people as a hobby? Yeah, I thought so.

Advertisements

About CR7

So you think you had a hard childhood? Well, fuck you. It's got nothing on mine. My mom threw me out of the house before I even hit 13, and I never met my dad. My only friend till I was 10 was the prick next door who was always beating me and telling me I wasn't worth shit. It's not like I had a choice: the town I lived in only had like 9 people in it. I spent my adolesence moving around fighting people. But it gets worse. My only friend then was an asian guy in his 30s or something who was somewhat of a perv. The only perk was that I got to hang around with this cute ginger chick. She enjoyed beating me but I trust it was her way of caring. But dear God the bane of my existance was this adult couple that I could NOT seem to avoid. You know the types of couples that are absolutely sickening, like they wear matching outfits and finish each other sentences? Yeah they were fucking creepers, and they had a cat, who was at least twice as annoying as they were, I swear this thing would never shut the fuck up. Like I said I ended up moving from town to town getting into fights with other kids my age, even adults from time to time. The only thing that kept me going was my dream to become a Pokemon master.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to This shirt is “dry-clean only”…which means it’s dirty

  1. frutatedmeek says:

    Awwwkward!!! I gatecrashed 4 New Years Eve parties this year and they were all a little bit weird but idk man Birthday takes the cake. I mean, it’s the dudes birthday. Oh well, my heart goes out to you motherfucker, some trax to cheer you up:

  2. frutatedmeek says:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s