Sunday, February 04, 2007

Don't Know What I Want, But I Know How to Get It

Here is a cartooned-up photo of me. I didn't draw it myself or anything. Instead, I used my little Kodak program on my computer, just to prove how punk rock/hardcore/extreme I'm not. It kind of looks like I'm eating the magnetic fuzz stuff from that Wooly Willy toy.

I know I'm old and a mom and shit, but on Friday I crossed so many different party genres, I could put you all to shame. Yes, even you, you seventeen year old blogger girl who breezed on here just to leave a snotty comment about how funny it was when old people drank. You couldn't have kept up with me for even a second.

To begin with, the way I kicked my flu's ass on Friday morning, was totally punk rock. It was just as if I had worn safety pin earrings and three inches of black eyeliner all the way around my eyes and stomped the shit out of it with my biggest, most bad-assest, combat boots. By noon, it was pretty much gone.

Then I got super hardcore, because I was broke until the first and couldn't afford to buy my migraine prescription until Thursday, but then got the flu and couldn't safely leave my house. I had me one violent headache by three o'clock. The hardcore part was all of the out of control shit I had to do while entertaining my migraine. You know, like how I drove Stinky and four of her closest male friends home from Rock and Skate, with their overwhelming combination of stale sweat and dirty hair smells. I also had to listen to them talk, which made me sad and then want to laugh and then get kind of angry all within about two minutes.

Once we spent almost an hour driving all the smelly boys home, I found out that Stinky had fallen hard on the ice and we worried away another hour debating whether or not her hand was broken and we should go to the ER, or not. Around 1:30, we drove to the hospital and honestly, there is nothing at all more hardcore than going to the ER at bar close on a Friday night. My migraine withstood, flourescent lights, the sound of someone continually and violently retching, and the eye tearing alcohol fumes of the whiny, surly, drunken college kid sitting next to us who had been punched in the nose. Hard. Core.

At four a.m. when we finally got to leave the ER, (Stinky's arm wasn't broken, just really swollen) I changed my partying status from hardcore, to X-treme. The winds had kicked up and made the already ridiculously low temperatures feel like thirty below zero. Both Stinky and I had to hold onto each other so we wouldn't get knocked down on our way to the car. Yeah, I know dude - wicked X-treme.

So, to all you kids who think you're so much more intense than me because you're young and you can stay up for several days straight with the help of a bottle of tequila and a few lines of coke, step back. You couldn't hang with me for more than an hour or two. I had to do all of my partying completely sober. Suck on that!


Les Quinn said...

Hey thats a great they still have the Jerry springer show over there? :)

Remiman said...

You rock girl. Even your cartoon is cute. ;-)
I'm glad your feeling better.

Margaret said...

oh I'm laughing so hard core Iust about blew out one of my nose rings, rock on girl

Mr Atrocity said...

Gnarly. Beyond Radical.

Rachel said...

Wow... you partied like a Rock Star. Sounds like the kind of fun that I have on a regular basis....

Lynnster said...

The kids, they just don't know. Ha!

booda baby said...

An all around good retort (I like a retort, even though I'm not exactly sure what it is. It's gotta be stronger and firmer than a reply and have something of a smack upside the head).

You got some super powers from somewhere, didn't you? It's enough you did all that, but you did it in that inhumanly cold freezing stuff.

I'm glad you've got warrior in you.

Churlita said...

Les Quinn,

Thanks. And I'm not sure if they still have Springer on. Does anyone who doesn't work during the day know the answer to that one?


Thanks. On all three counts.


I love that you typoed lust for just...Or maybe that wasn't a typo, and if not, you are totally hardcore.

Mr Atrocity,

Dude. Fa' real dough.


Yeah. Sometimes I wish I wasn't having so much fun. It's hard to be so punk rock 24/7.


You don't know the half of it.

Booda Baby,

Once I turned myself into a cartoon, the super powers just flowed through me. You should try it sometime.

Egan said...

You're cute when you're fiesty.

Brando said...

That looks like the portraits they used to use for the cast on Saturday Night Live. Very cool.

Killer said...

For you, they should add parenting to the X-Games.

Churlita said...


Thanks. It's my belief that if everyone turned themselves into cartoons, the world would be so beautiful.


You're right. I didn't even think of that. Now, let's see you turn that pic of you in your hoodie after the Bears lost into a cartoon.


The X-treme parenting portion of the X-games would be the most difficult of all - and the scariest.