Friday, January 23, 2009

The List of “Things that you will only do once…”

To give a little bit of an intro into this blog, I will start by saying that there are things in life that you will only do once. Whether it be because it got you into a lot of trouble, or because it embarrassed you terribly, you will only do some things once over your lifespan. I have been trying to come up with a list for about a week now. So…here is a couple (Now, mind you…there will probably be like a gazillion installments to this…so be prepared to see more down the road):
1. Never wear panties that are too big to a funeral. –In 2007, around the time that my Aunt was dying, my uncle kept trying to get me to meet a boy from his church. For 2 weeks, I fought it…saying stuff like “Oh, I only want a sugardaddy” because who wants to be set up by their uncle? But at the night of my aunt’s visitation, I finally caved, and agreed to meet this guy. Luckily for me, he was coming to the funeral the next day. So, I primped and tried to look my best the morning of the funeral. As I walked up the hill to the graveyard, I began to realize that I was having an undergarment malfunction. My panties were just a little big, and as I was going uphill, they….well…weren’t. So as we stood for the graveside service (which took FOREVER) I kept trying to discreetly pull them back up. It seemed each time I moved, they went farther south. So, after the excruciatingly long service, we still had to greet people. It seemed that I got myself into a little sashay. Walk. Shake hands. Smile. Shimmy them up. Walk. Shake hands. Smile. Shimmy them up. And so on and so-forth. Well, y’all, come to find out the “guy” had been right behind me during the funeral. I had heard snickering behind me, and to this day, I think that he saw my little pick-the-panties-up dance.
2. Never…and I mean NEVER have “unmentionables” sent via UPS to your house if you have neighbors. Now, before y’all go thinking I ordered something off of or something, let me tell you…it was undergarments for a wedding I was in. Actually, it was “my gear” as a friend lovingly refers to it. All I will say is…it makes my jell-o butt look a little more J.Lo. And my gut a little less noticeable. ANYWAYS, I ordered it on-line, thinking nothing of it. Well, imagine my shock, when I find the package torn up sitting on my doorstep (it really looked like Fido had gotten a-hold of it). Still, I just thought that something must have happened prior to delivery. That is…until I found the note. The dumb UPS man had dropped it off at my neighbor’s house. His wife had left a note, explaining about the mix up, and saying that her husband had opened it thinking it was for his shop. At the end she simply said “Sorry.” I knew what she meant with that small word…Poor Mr. W.A. had gotten a shock when he mistakenly opened my girdle thinking it was for his meat shop.
3. It is NOT ok to say “I’m doing fine now that I’m on drugs” to people you barely know. In all fairness, while I was on vacation (visiting the uncle I mentioned in #1) in November 2007, I had a little panic attack/allergic reaction that put me in the E.R. one night. The doctor had given me Xanax to calm my nerves. So when the guy’s mom (yep…the guy from the funeral) asked me how I was doing. I said “Oh, I’m doing great now that I’m on drugs.” I swear, it sounded ok in my head. Judging by the look she gave me, she was less than impressed.
4. Speaking of that E.R. NEVER go to an E.R. where they don’t even use an intercom system. That night, I walked in there, having trouble breathing, and I wanted to be seen ASAP. Well, I walked up to the receptionist, who was talking on the phone and twirling her hair. After a few gasps for air…and practically clutching my throat, she says to the person on the line “Hey, I’d better go…we have a patient. Yeah, we actually have a patient.” (This should have been a sign of things to come). Then, after filling out some paperwork (still gasping), she walks out of her box, down the hall and just yells “Hey y’all we have a patient!” Well, the male nurse comes to escort me to a room. He has those gauged earrings in his ear and looks a bit on the feminine side…yet he has a manly Southern accent. WTH? He then gives me an IV.---Have I mentioned that I’m not good with needles---As he jabs me, I make the mistake of looking down. Blood is gushing down my arm…onto my pants and all over the floor and his response is “Oh, so you’re going to bleed anyways…” When I am on the verge of pulling a Cornbread and yelling obscenities at him, the doctor walks in. He is decked out in a Hawaiian shirt and jeans and has blood-shot eyes. I still don’t know how I survived to tell the tale.
Well, I will cut myself off tonight. I just realized how long this was getting. I’m sure I’ll have more shortly.

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