I was at the bar, dancing with G., this guy that I was kind of dating over the summer, when I realized that I had lost my Coach ID case. I started rummaging through my purse and frantically searching the floor, but it was so crowded and dark that the odds of me finding it were nil. I was flipping out because the case held my entire life, and I mean life: credit card, fake, swipe, key, and about 40$. The ironic thing was that I had found an ID earlier that night, a male Arizona fake (not that I could have told you this at the time; I was way too gone to register anything more than the fact that I was holding a piece of plastic with a face on it) I finally gave up and went to meet G. outside, where we talked about why karma caused me to lose all my stuff (because I had someone else's ID and bought a camera with someone else's giftcard)
Me: MY LIFE IS RUINED I AM A GOOD PERSON WHY DO THESE THINGS HAPPEN TO ME?
G: You stole a giftcard. And my belt.
...asshole.
Finally, when things were dying down a little, I figured I should go back in and give it one more shot. I was shuffling around with my hands cupped around my eyes with laser-like focus on the ground, when some black guy grabs me and goes, "Girl, you lost yo' credit card? The DJ got yo' credit card." Yes, that's right, my guardian angel speaks Ebonics. I ran up to the DJ and YES! there it was.
Me: OMGOMG THANK GOD OMG
DJ: You wanna make out?
Well? What would you have done? It was a celebration of life and survival and triumph of good over evil, so we made out.
In that same vein, I ended up going back with G. Over the summer I read the sequel to Gone With the Wind and there's a scene where Rhett and Scarlett escape a shipwreck and have passionate sex on the beach. Rhett explains that after you have a near death experience you want to have sex with the nearest person just to prove that you're alive. That's how I felt. Plus I knew he'd drive me home in the morning.
Except I doubt our sex was as passionate as Rhett and Scarlett's.
Me: Pin my arms!
G: (no response)
Me: PULL my HAIR!
G: Sorry I don't do that.
What??? Who the hell has a moral position against hair-pulling? I'm sorry, but when it comes to sex it's go hard or go home. If it was my room I'd have probably kicked him the hell out, but as it was I did not feel like walking back so we did rock/paper/scissors for the good side of the bed and went to sleep. Night stills counts as a complete WIN because I GOT MY STUFF BACK!!
Oh and cigarettes are bad for you, so here's me smoking a pretzel:
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