Champions of Everything
So anyway, my brother may or may not be working for the mafia. The backwoods Appalachian mafia that is. All we know is we've never met his boss, and he hires a bunch of college students for undisclosed jobs with guaranteed security and pays them in cash. So mafia, or just cheating the IRS, either I can get behind.
Also, my aunt's getting married so she can qualify for her boyfriend's insurance, and pay to get my cousin placed in a nuthouse. Moving on up from Juvie Hall! White trash version of the Jeffersons are we! Invitations for the wedding are being distributed among the family based on a complicated system that takes into account both grudges going back twenty years concerning Dan Rather space cake related dreams as well as thousands of dollars cash stolen just a few months ago. The drama continues to lead to long, awkward pauses at the supper table, followed by muffled, hysterical laughter.
But the point I wanted to talk about is how I finally earned my Dyke street cred last night. That's right! I was a victim of a hate crime! I am so fucking excited about the whole thing you do not even understand. So okay, I was over at soul_bastion's house with riorhapsody and Nathan, the flaming homosexual, hanging out, when we decided to go into town to the tiny hole in the wall Mexican restaurant and eat tacos and burritos. So we're there, and there's like, one other family there and they have the booth right next to us. And we're going over all the shit that's gone down since high school and seeing how many gay people we totally called and who is totally just making out with girls to get frat boys to ball her and shit, when the guy at the next table yells at us to keep it down his son is sitting there and shit.
Anyway, I'm confused and was like, "Is he talking to us?" Because damn my autism. Apparently he had been making snide comments before then or something. I'm just clueless. And he's like, "Yeah I'm talking to you faggots." And me and Nathan burst out laughing. It's a beautiful moment. And he proceeds to tell us all to die of venereal diseases and calls me a bitch personally (I feel so proud!) and Jeff tells us to stop antagonizing him, because he does not want to get cut in a fucking five dollar Mexican restaurant in North Carolina. And eventually the guy like, storms out with his family, and I still can't stop laughing. And we talk about fag powers and basically insert the word fag into our sentences as often as possible for the rest of the night because yeah. You're big and scary straight man with tiny penis. I'm shaking in my lesbian flip flops. Idiot.
So yeah! I finally earned my hate crime merit badge! It was awesome! I had forgotten how many stupid people there were in the world and now I remember! This kind of shit only happens to us in group, because with our ghetto powers combined we form some sort of Bermuda triangle of mixed metaphors, which is to say, we are cooler than you. Go team!
Also, my aunt's getting married so she can qualify for her boyfriend's insurance, and pay to get my cousin placed in a nuthouse. Moving on up from Juvie Hall! White trash version of the Jeffersons are we! Invitations for the wedding are being distributed among the family based on a complicated system that takes into account both grudges going back twenty years concerning Dan Rather space cake related dreams as well as thousands of dollars cash stolen just a few months ago. The drama continues to lead to long, awkward pauses at the supper table, followed by muffled, hysterical laughter.
But the point I wanted to talk about is how I finally earned my Dyke street cred last night. That's right! I was a victim of a hate crime! I am so fucking excited about the whole thing you do not even understand. So okay, I was over at soul_bastion's house with riorhapsody and Nathan, the flaming homosexual, hanging out, when we decided to go into town to the tiny hole in the wall Mexican restaurant and eat tacos and burritos. So we're there, and there's like, one other family there and they have the booth right next to us. And we're going over all the shit that's gone down since high school and seeing how many gay people we totally called and who is totally just making out with girls to get frat boys to ball her and shit, when the guy at the next table yells at us to keep it down his son is sitting there and shit.
Anyway, I'm confused and was like, "Is he talking to us?" Because damn my autism. Apparently he had been making snide comments before then or something. I'm just clueless. And he's like, "Yeah I'm talking to you faggots." And me and Nathan burst out laughing. It's a beautiful moment. And he proceeds to tell us all to die of venereal diseases and calls me a bitch personally (I feel so proud!) and Jeff tells us to stop antagonizing him, because he does not want to get cut in a fucking five dollar Mexican restaurant in North Carolina. And eventually the guy like, storms out with his family, and I still can't stop laughing. And we talk about fag powers and basically insert the word fag into our sentences as often as possible for the rest of the night because yeah. You're big and scary straight man with tiny penis. I'm shaking in my lesbian flip flops. Idiot.
So yeah! I finally earned my hate crime merit badge! It was awesome! I had forgotten how many stupid people there were in the world and now I remember! This kind of shit only happens to us in group, because with our ghetto powers combined we form some sort of Bermuda triangle of mixed metaphors, which is to say, we are cooler than you. Go team!