Blah-ditty-blah

daily affirmation. . . .or mama always said i had an active imagination. . .

you know how you get caught up in a fantasy. . . you know, like how you interview yourself as a high ranking member of the UN while doing the dishes and so on? well, i'm not sure what spawned this particular bit, but i went with it for most of the day, and found it rather pleasant. . . so i decided to share it. now, just to make it all clear, if you get lost within the story, i'm the intellectually, morally, and physically (not in a beauty way, but in a kung fu way)superior character in all these fantasies.

so, enter scene. . . my ten year highschool reunion. i look good, but i'm not the bitter returnee that has suddenly become that drop dead gorgeous, 'i'm wanted by everyone' girl. . . but i look good. *however, i'm not sure what i should be wearing, part of me wants to have on a pair of those punky, lace up to your thigh boots. . . oh i can't decide, just put me in a decent summer dress. . . and it becomes important later, that is moves well. . . and no, there's no 80's highschool movie choreography in this fantasy.*

ok, where were we, yeah, highschool reunion. i'm sitting at a table with a few of my classmates, and we're having an honestly good time catching up, and not being snotty or lame with one another. *note: some people from my class may find that to be the more fantastic part of this whole thing :)* as we are having a good time, one of my classmates joins us with her new husband. the alcohol is flowing and the tongues are wagging, and eventually the topic of conversation moves to political matters. it gets interesting, because i'm rather liberal, and my classmate and her new husband are really conservative. actually, she's a fairly intelligent conservative and he's a bigot, but since she's republican, white, and slightly insecure she was attracted to his strength, social stature, and his ability to earn money. . . so she married him. along the way, he makes and extremely racist comment about a particular sect of people, and although no one at the table agrees with him, everyone fiddles with their napkin, swirls the wine in their glass, checks their watch, pretends to drop a fork, or shows a new found interest in the wall of our highschool pictures on the other side of the room. i however speak up. . .

"well, that was the most racist, or the most idiotic thing i've ever heard spoken. . . no sorry i take that back.. . it is the most racist and idiotic thing i've ever heard spoken." i then site a number of incredibly intelligent and researched facts about said sect of people which proves their wonderful contributions both historically and currently to society.

"dumb bitch" he replies as he stands to leave the table throwing down his napkin and squeezing his wife's elbow.

i'm rather embittered and reply audibly, "why don't you go commit a hate crime you short dicked pansy."

he turns, "what was that?"

"oh i'm sorry, what i meant to say was," and standing i pull out a megaphone from under the table *in full eric cartman style* and in a loudspeaker voice proclaim, "why don't you go commit a hate crime you short dicked pansy."

i place the megaphone down as he approaches me to take a swing. i catch his fist in my own and begin to squeeze and twist. . . he winces in pain and his knees begin to buckle. as he lowers i take a swift kick to his jaw which knocks him out cold. i gulp down the last of my iced tea *i'm allergic to wine* and walk over to the music request sheet and sign up cyndi lauper's girls just wanna have fun.

*i guess this is where the choreography could come in. . . . but it didn't get that far.*

have a nice day :)