Thursday, May 20, 2010

Hypothetically speaking

Life is all about choices.

After your choice comes the inevitable ‘follow through’. You take some sort of action – be it passive or aggressive. And then comes everyone’s favorite part: consequences. Right or wrong, good or bad – everything has a consequence. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Yes?

Alright then. Let’s just say that, hypothetically, you know someone that knows someone. And the someone you know works with a woman. Allegedly this woman is a nice woman, if a little nerve grating from time to time. However, as much as the someone you know likes this woman they cannot help but be a tad disturbed by her ... habits.

See, this someone you know was in the bathroom they share with this woman. They were a bit bored, because sometimes the gopher shits take awhile, so they decided to go through the drawers of a cabinet right in front of the toilet. Previously they’d only ever opened the top drawer because it’s where they store their feminine hygiene products, but that day they were curious. Upon opening the bottom drawer they noticed a box of wet wipes and they were pleased because everyone knows that wet wipes are the best invention ever, second only to The Bullet (The zzzzzzz kind, not the POW kind).

But upon further investigation they noticed several clear, plastic Ziploc bags stashed behind the wet wipe box. The bags appeared to have been there for awhile, condensation was visible on the inside plastic. Upon even further investigation it was noted that these bags contained wadded up pairs of women’s underwear matted together with, well, shit and mold. They then yelled, “Holy mother of gawd! *gag*”

Now, it’s safe to say that this someone you know got what they deserved for being nosy: disgust, embarrassment, and the hardship of keeping a straight face every time someone says “shit” in the office. However, you can also argue that this is a shared bathroom and the drawers are now communal property. (And by drawers I mean the pull out kind, not the shitty kind.)

Now, herein lies the problem: Does this person you know tell the woman that they know about her dirty little secret? Do they hint around so that she cleans out the drawers (both kinds, if we’re being technical)? Or do they continue to keep silent and check to make sure they are still there, turning it into a running joke with their friends: “Who had $20 on three months? You lose! It’s been 4 and they’re still there! Who wants $10 on ‘the collection will be added to by 5 months’?”

Whatever choice they make, there will be another consequence and another. Until eventually they’re old enough to understand what it’s like to lose control of their bowels and start shitting in their own drawers, though hopefully they dispose of them properly. Is life depressing or what?

How are some people so decisive when there are all these choices?

Let’s try another one. Something a little different.

Let’s say that, hypothetically, you haven’t had sex since New Year’s Eve. And even though it was sex, it wasn’t great sex. And the guy was a complete tool bag man whore masquerading as a nice guy and he stabbed your clitoris, repeatedly and viciously, like the Romans stabbed Caesar. Et tu Bruté?

Let’s also say that you’re trying this new thing called getting to know a person before you fuck their brains out. You’re trying to be mature. You’re trying not to act on a sexual whim or 8 liquor drinks and a bong hit. You kind of want to remember who, what, when, where, and how the hell he did that thing with his...whatever. You’re not slutting it up anymore. High five to well-behaved, classy you!

However, here’s the crux of the matter: You’re dying. Not literally dying, but seriously, if you don’t get screwed by something that doesn’t take batteries they might put you in a mental hospital and change your middle name to ARGHHHHHHHHH!, because that’s all you ever say anymore. Everyone thinks you’re bipolar or schizophrenic, but you aren’t. You’re suffering from NoDick Disease. To complicate matters, you’re actually about to get more alone time than you ever get. Also, you may or may not have a ridiculous crush on someone that you totally shouldn’t have a crush on and you couldn’t sleep with them right now even if you wanted to.

So do you go back on your promise to yourself, go out and pick up a six foot, green eyed cure with a David Copperfield complex (Surprise! He’s in there!)? Or do you continue biting the heads off of random passersby, because they look like they just got plowed, until you finally meet someone, date them, and then fuck their brains out?

If you just do it you may get satisfied, but then again you may not. Either way, you’ll eventually be slapping yourself silly because you totally ruined your well-behaved, classy plan.

The consequences are a motherfucker on this one either way you go, right? Maybe you should just go back to your old routine: Do it. Like it. Don’t care. Suffer the consequences. Still not care. Do it again. But no, it’s still a cycle! Sigh.

Last one. This is super hard, you guys. I know. My head hurts too.

Let’s say that, hypothetically, you and your five year old kid live with your mom and teenage sister. Said teenage sister is, like, ohmigawd, so perfect! You’ve always tried to relate to her, but it makes your head hurt. Until recently you never really had anything to talk about.

But now all of a sudden you’re being sought after for sexual counseling and advice, and being asked to fill the role of the mom that's popping Xanax like skittles and sticking her head in the sand because “no-one-in-this-house-has-sex-no-one-in-this-house-has-sex-no-one-in-this-house-will-ever-have-sex-nononononono” by taking said teenager to the health department for birth control. And then your nosy nature, combined with all of this sisterly bonding, suddenly culminates in the form of a cell phone video you wish to gawd you had never opened *gag* vagina *gag*...hold on a minute, please.

Ok. *deep breaths* Lalalalalalabia. In-out-in-out. *gag*

Sorry. Let’s continue.

So now you’re supposed to be the cool older sister that’s completely ok with this pimply fucker hanging around all the time and railing your sibling and talking about it to all of his friends, but you aren’t allowed to talk about it to your friends because she’s, like, ohmigawd, so perfect and no one can ever know. And she starts fucking up all the time and getting caught doing stupid shit, but everyone brushes it under the rug and she never gets punished, unlike you at that age, who totally got locked in the guest room and bitch slapped into next week.

So you take all of that angst and confusion and combine it with this most recent issue.

You’re in charge while the teenager goes to the prom. You’re supposed to monitor the time she comes in and make sure there’s no funny business going on. On one hand, you were totally doing funny business at that age and thoroughly enjoying it. On the other hand, you totally got knocked up and had to move back in with your mother. You understand the shit she’s going through, but you feel like you have to be the adult in this situation, ok.

She actually comes home at a decent hour, boyfriend in tow, to watch movies. She’s also brought along a friend and her friend’s date too. You’re completely fine with this because: A) you’re sitting on your porch getting shitfaced drunk on wine while having a fascinating four hour long phone conversation with a stranger and B) what are they possibly going to do with you RIGHT there and with their friends RIGHT there.

Everything is fine. Everyone leaves. You pass out. You wake up the next morning, pick up the kid from the non-in-laws, and park her in the other room to play while you nurse your killer headache.

But that evening you’re cleaning up the kid’s playroom and there’s a bright yellow wrapper on the floor. You pick it up and it’s an empty, torn open Trojan condom packet. You gasp and yell for the obviously guilty party. She comes in, angry at being interrupted from staring at herself in the mirror. You hold up the evidence and she immediately claims, “That’s not mine!”

“Who the fuck does it belong to then”, you say.

She rattles off the names of her friends that were there last night.

You blanch. “You mean to tell me that you let them fuck on my daughter’s playroom floor?”

“I didn’t know”, she whispers.

You are livid for many reasons: How dare someone else get laid in this house when you aren’t getting any? How dare some teenage kid deliberately bring her boyfriend over and secretly have sex in this house? How disrespectful is that? How dare your sister let them do it? IN YOUR KID’S PLAYROOM where she’s been playing ALL DAY! There could be jizz hiding anywhere! In her kitchen set teacups! You were sitting on the porch. Right there!

Before you have time to think about anything else, you decide not to mention it to your mother. Then later, once it’s percolated, you realize a few things: You’re an adult. You were technically responsible for these kids. Maybe you should say something and let them suffer the consequences, just like you had to when you were a disrespectful little shit. Or maybe you should continue to be the cooler, understanding older sister.

You demand an apology from the teenage friend and force your sister to listen to three, randomly spaced, thirty minute monologues about how much she sucks, her friends suck, her boyfriend sucks, and it sucks being an adult that has to deal with this shit and FUCK, you don’t want to think about it anymore.

And yet you continue to wonder, even after its pretty much over, if you should have done things differently. Because right now the consequences you’re suffering from are a slightly guilty conscious and the urge to vomit.

What kind of choices would you guys have made?

Of course, this is all completely hypothetical.


steff said...

i cannot imagine why someone would think it a better idea to hide shitty panties in a ziploc under a sink then just THROWING THEM IN THE GARBAGE. you put EVIDENCE in ziplocs, not things you want to disappear for-EVER.
anyway, you covered a shitload (double meaning!) in this post.
it was always my experience that when you're NOT looking for "love" your door starts getting beaten down by boners.
i don't know if that was helpful at all. probably not. i guess im just saying: fear not! you shall be plowed again!
as for your sister's friend getting boned in the playroom, im totally with you. i would be pissed to. nobody wants even the smallest traces of strange teenage semen near their children.
i hope you gave her an earful.
of semen.
as payback.

carissajaded said...

hahaha Well.. what an imagination you have.

Re:dirty panties. I would throw them away. nonoo. Or Put them in the lost and found. Because that's disgusting of her and though I wouldn't want to shame her myself, I would subtley want her to find out that her secret has been found.

And re: the sex. I would Do it. Just go out and do it. Then you, I mean I, would be able to start from square one on holding out on actually getting to know I guy first. Hypothetically of course.

Jenny DB said...

OMG on the panties. OK that is SERIOUSLY disturbing and I would tell HR because the woman has got to be BATSHIT crazy to keep her dirty undies in ziplocks in a public restroom. Like honestly that is sooo disturbing and the fact the she is "saving" them OMG what a crazy person. Honestly... HONESTLY tell HR. Or like carissajaded said, put some rubber gloves on and bring them to lost and found and say, I found these in the bathroom. If you can do it with a straight face slash without puking.

Abasee said...

If you and the shitty pants lady are the only women in the office you have no choice but to leave the nasty to percolate. If there are more than the two of you, toss those nasty things. Ick!

As for the boner joneser, have your 'friend' go get some strange, ASAP. Nothing less attractive than a woman who's all backed up and bitchy. Guys like that freshly fucked look - it brings about a nice healthy glow and a slow smile, rather than perma frown.

As for the teenage boning, why didn't your sister know, unless she herself were getting some at the exact same time? The mind, it wanders. Don't rat her out, but rather use the information to your advantage. Chores that need doing? Hers now. Need your car washed? I'm sure she'll happily oblige, lest you tell on her.

Anonymous said...

Like Steff said, who would SAVE their shitty panties instead of just ziplocking the fuckers and disposing of them discretely later? Who STASHES THE EVIDENCE? WTF?

As for your sister and her friends that's a hard one (that's what she said). I mean I'm with you totally. There are only two paths you can take and neither of them are perfect. I wouldn't tell your mom, that's for sure. But I'd make it clear you won't stand for any more of that crap and if anything at all happens again, it won't remain secret.

I don't even want to get into the video thing. That's seven kinds of wrong and I feel terrible you had to see it. Amused, but you know...terrible. :)

As for the uh...'hypothetical' you - I don't know man. To bone or not to bone, that is the question. You need a reliable FWB for these occasions I think...

Sara said...

Okay, what the hell happened with the video? I need to know!

And what do you feel like you did wrong? Telling your sister's friends to apologize. I think that's exactly what I would have done. Just embarassed the shit out of them.

mylittlebecky said...

ziplock underpanties... what tha? also, i am the worst when it comes to sisters. the. worst. she should have to pay you protection money. like the mafia.

Gorilla Bananas said...

I would have told them to fuck in the garden next time. It's more like a nature documentary and Jizz is good for the soil.

Eric said...

My brother had a party recently in Austin and a girl had left cheek prints on his bathroom mirror during the party (I thought those two were in there for a long time). It's not as bad as in a kid's playroom though, that is just wrong.

Sending you a platonic virtual boning... You know, like a friend.

The mad woman behind the blog said...

Girl, you're KILLING ME HERE! And I too am sending a virtual boning (though not platonic, b/c you know that how I roll!)

Girl Interrupted said...

Oh crikey! So apparently dilemmas are like buses etc, eh?

The first hypothetical situation ... Gah! I can't even get past the fact that somebody would actually do that! Who knew Pandoras Box might actually be a bathroom drawer in The South! The only thing I would do is have the woman committed to some kind of asylum asap and to make damned sure I never again opened that drawer.

Second hypothetical situation ... just how long might I have known this guy? Because if we've had more than three dates I seriously doubt I'm going to find out very much more about him anyway, and I'll probably find out much more pertinent facts after I've boffed him, so I may as well do it! The phrase "Suck it and see" works on so many levels within this scenario!

Third hypothetical situation ... I would get annoyed, lecture numerous times at great length and use any method necessary to scare the bejeebus out of the randy little shits so that sex became something they feared and avoided for at least the next 10 years, thus effectively relieving myself of any further burden.

Being hypothetical is fun!

BrightenedBoy said...

The crappy underwear story is one of the weirdest things I've ever heard.

And who is the forbidden crush?

As for the thing with your sister, I wouldn't beat yourself up over it too much. That's the kind of thing teenagers do, that you yourself did.

Perhaps a bit more vigilance is needed, though; they can be very crafty.