Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Amoeba Weenie: Or, Why I'll Never Scare Anyone

I’m not a Walk of Shame sort of woman. Oh sure, we’ve all had to get across town in borrowed shoes and yesterday’s makeup. But that’s just not who I am these days.

So I do more of a metaphorical Walk of Shame. I wake up on weekend mornings, steel myself with a strong cup of coffee, and review the previous evening’s outbound text messages.

They start out normal enough. “We’re at Bar X, come on down!”

Then they might turn a bit philosophical. “If I ran up and stole that guy’s dreadful hat, would I be performing a public service?”

A little later, I will start sending dirty, but sort of goofily prudish texts to my friends, generally the female ones, and most often the ones sitting at the same table. “I hope you’re wearing a thong! Rowr!”

And so begin the gibberish texts, for which I am quite famous.

However, if I pass through the gibberish phase, and am somehow still upright, things get truly weird.

Saturday, a boy my friend had been involved with behaved in such a colossally dinky way that it had to be intentional. I won't tell the story, but let's just say he deserved a wedgie. Or five. Or, possibly, ten.

I had to be somewhat forcibly restrained from going over and thumping the guy. (I don’t go psycho on my own behalf, but I’m for damn sure not going to let anyone be mean to my friends.) I also thought he ought to know he had stupid-looking hair and tragic taste in sweaters. I was given permission to send one, just one, disapproving text message.

I took a long pull of my beer, contemplated my options, and came up with something that seemed both hilarious and intimidating. We all cackled with glee.

The next morning, I slid open my phone with something that can only be called extreme dread. I expected some sort of fire-breathing mythical beast to leap out and attack me for my foolishness. I expected to be embarrassed, humiliated, run out of town on the psycho-bus, forever branded as a crazy lady.

What I did not expect was to hurt myself laughing. The text I sent was sort of like a Gypsy curse, except it involved amoebas and boy-parts and made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

"Your [unprintable] is crawling with angry slutty amoebas. Also, xxox."

So, the next time my friends decide to let me be a badass on their behalf, I will think back to the Amoeba Weenie incident, take a deep breath, and strongly consider equipping my phone with a Breathalyzer. And then I'll probably make an ass of myself all over again.

PS - When I'm not humiliating myself on behalf of my friends, I am off goading my friends into posting photos of themselves in a Snuggie. Think of it as spreading the wealth of jackassery.

20 comments:

HP said...

There are times I really regret the very invention of the text message. At least it made for an entertaining evening.

Shannon said...

HP - And a very entertaining morning, which I spent cowering under my coffee table.

Just A Girl said...

You realize that it HAS to be printed now, right? It's just not fair to taunt me this way. Besides, I might need to program into the quick text function on my phone just in case.

Shannon said...

HP, what do you think? Can we satisfy Just a Girl's curiousity?

Zipcode said...

Ahh drunk text messages - oh so fun. Haven't done that in a long time because I am not drinking booze anymore. It just gets me in trouble.

Would love to see the script of these texts though.

Shannon said...

JAG - REally, as it only reflects poorly on myself, I've updated the post.

Zip - You and me both - "Delete All" has hidden much of my shame.

LiLu said...

I second Just A Girl's motion...

Shannon said...

LiLu - It's up. Just remember this was after HP and I polished off the better part of three pitchers of beer. Between the two of us.

HP said...

Go for it. And go read my blog for context and analysis. Yanno, in case this night needs a moral or something.

We did have *some* help with those pitchers. We may be lushes but we're also small women.

freckledk said...

He got off easy with the text message; waht he really deserved was a punch in the balls.

Shannon said...

HP - Foggy might have hoisted a glass or two. Between this and the lipgloss swap at Hooters, he may never want to go to a bar with us again.

Frecks - You really have no idea how tempted I was. And at least the message probably scrambled his brain for a good five minutes.

bh said...

That's allsome.

Luckily, I'm afflicted with "uh, I have a cellphone?" disease when drinking heavily. causing me to disappear for long intervals of time until I remember that I have friends and family with whom I should be communicating.

Ms. Florida Transplant said...

Next time you go to a bar, I'll give you my # to send entertaining texts to. Hilarous.

Shannon said...

bh - Generally, my friends try to convince me to forget that I have a cellphone. Or, sometimes, they hide it from me.

Florida - Welcome! Just make sure none of your parts wind up with any icky amoebas!

Tina said...

I need to use this - please please please may I have permission to reprint? or would that be retext?

Shannon said...

Tina - go right ahead. Oh, and it was brought to my attention that the amoebas were angry AND slutty. Kill me.

lacochran said...

If picture a slide full of amoebas baring their teeth and opening their legs.

Little amoeba legs.

No?

Flagella?

Biology was a long time ago.

Shannon said...

Lacochran - see, I was picturing a bunch of amoebas in miniskirts and pitchforks.

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