How I Learned to Drive.

I almost walked straight to church that afternoon, but I’d left my Bible at home. When I turned left onto the street across from the Dairy Queen, I saw 20 cars parked in our driveway, (there were probably only 3 or 4 cars – this is where I tell on myself for exaggerating) I actually had to stop myself from saying “gosh-darnit”.

You see, in order to get to my bedroom, I’d have to first make my way through the living room, past the kitchen, take a sharp left through the family room, down the hallway, past the bathroom, to the last room on the right (you could take a shortcut through the utility room, but there would be more turns involved). In other words, there was a lot of house that I had to McGiver my way through without encountering my older brother, or one of his pothead friends.

When I walked through the front door that day, they were all there; 20 faces (probably more like 6 or 7) staring at me with their squinty eyes; including my brother. If I remember right, I’m pretty sure that I gave them the “talk to the hand” hand, and kept on going. The friends didn’t do much to harass me, other than laugh their asses off while my brother sang the “Wipey-Bugstin” song at the top of his lungs.

Wipey Bustin was the nickname that my brothers gave me long ago.
There were variations such as;
Whippy-Wipey,
Whippy-Wipey-Butt-Stain,
Shitney,
Waaa-Hitney (to which I’d shout “THE ‘H’ IS SILENT!”)
But the name that started it all was Wipey Bugstin, and Tony had composed a theme song that he would sing to me whenever he saw me walk through the door.

(To the tune of the Hallelujah Chorus)
Wiiiiii-pey Bugstin!
Wiiiiiipey Bugstin,
Wipey-Bugstin, Wipey-Bugstin,
Wip-eeey Bugggstinnnnn!

I could still hear him singing clear in my bedroom, on the other side of the house, and I remember wishing that they would all just get a life. I changed my clothes real quick, grabbed my NIV Bible (with my full name engraved on the front), stopped in the kitchen long enough to cut a giant, fresh from the oven brownie, (right from the middle of the pan, just to peeve my brother off even more) and took a gigantic bite. I carefully folded the remainder of my brownie inside a paper towel and made my way to the door.

One of my brother’s friend was blocking the front door, and I was like, “MOVE!” and then he was like, “what’s the password?”
– SHUT UP!
– Nope, wrong password…
– STOP IT!
– Nope, wrong again…
I remember yelling at my brother to make his stupid friend move, but by then all of his friends thought it was a big game and encircled all around me so that I was completely blocked in. I yelled at my brother to help me, and Tony pushed through the crowd and was like, “Ok guys, knock it off” but no one was backing off. Everyone was moving in closer, and I started to feel very threatened. I remember reaching back toward the desk, trying to find something that I could hit them with to make them stop because I didn’t think that I could hit them hard enough with my fists. I grabbed the first thing that I found, and without thinking I swung it straight over my head as hard as I could.

THHHWWWACK!

(Thhhwwwack is the sound of a metal golfing wedge hitting a human forearm at an alarming speed.)

PLUNNNKKK!

(Plunnnkkk is the sound of one arm bone popping on top of the other.)

HO-LE-YYY FUUUUCCCKKK!

(The sound of my brother screaming at the top of his lungs while holding his limp arm.)

DUDE-YOUR-SISTER-JUST-FUCKING-BROKE-YOUR-ARM!

(The sound of my brother’s friends sobering up and realizing that they’d better get the hell out of there while they still had their balls.)

Within two minutes, every single one of Tony’s friends had peeled out of our driveway, while I started hysterically chanting, “Oh my gosh Tony, oh my gosh, oh no, oh gosh…”

Tony interrupted me to say, “Do you know how to drive yet Whippy?”

I was crying by then, so between sobs I said, “I’m 15 so…sort of?”

T: “Oh shit, ok, well fuck, I guess I’m going to have to teach you to drive because I need you to take me to the hospital.”

Me: “Should I call 911?”

T: “Oh god no, fuck no, help me get to my truck…Whippy stop crying and get in the fucking truck! Wait…what’s on your teeth?”

Me: “My teeth?”

T: “Did you eat any brownies?

Me: “No…well yeah…don’t be mad!”

Tony was practically shaking me when he said, “How much? How much of those brownies did you eat?”

I started sobbing again, “Now is not really the best time to make fun of me for cheating on my diet!”

Tony: “Shit, ok, so you don’t know how to drive, AND you are about to be really fucking stoned.”

Me: “Huh?”

Tony: “Those were pot brownies, you dumbass!”

Me: “Oh my gosh, are you serious? I’ve never been stoned before, what do I do? Should I hide somewhere? Should I put earphones on? I never meant for any of this to happen, I was only trying to get to church and now I’ve just been sinning like crazzzzzy!”

Tony laughed and said, “Oh fuck, this is going to be hilarious.”

These were the facts:

1) My brother’s arm was broken.
2) I was the one who broke it.
3) I had to get my brother to the hospital.
4) I didn’t know how to drive.
5) The brownies had marijuana in them.
6) I was going to be very late for church.

Of course Tony’s truck had a manual transmission, so not only did I need to real quick learn how to drive, but I had to real quick learn how to drive a stick shift.

What my brother said, “So you have to use your left foot to hold the clutch down, and your right foot controls the gas and the brakes, and you have to use the stick shift to change the gears, and you have to release the clutch at the same time that you hit the gas but you have to do it at just the right time or otherwise you’ll kill the engine.”

What I heard was, “Wa wa, wa wa wa wa…wa wa wa wa wa…”

The result: We violently lurched the 5 miles between our house and the hospital while my brother yelled things like, “Release the clutch! Hit the gas! Change the gear! My arm hurts, FUCK! You are killing my truck! You are fucking killing my truck! My bone is going to pop out of my fucking arm!” At the same time I shouted things like, “I’m doing the best that I can! Maybe we should stop and pray! Did we bring any snacks? Do you know how to make blueberry pancakes? Are my teeth getting longer?!”

We made it to the hospital that day, but don’t ask me how, because it really had to have been some sort of miracle. When we walked up to the front desk, the first thing that the nurse asked was, “what happened?”

Tony looked at me, and I looked at him, and we both had big eyes like, “why didn’t we rehearse this??”

Tony quickly said, “I fell.”

Me: “Yeah, he fell.”

Tony: “It was a golfing accident.”

Me: “Yeah, he slipped and fell on a golf club.”

The nurse asked for our Mom’s phone number, but Tony quickly informed her that he was over 18, so they didn’t have to get Mom’s permission in order to begin examining his wounds. She gave us a funny look that said, “what in the world have these kids gotten themselves into” before she checked Tony into an examination room. I told Tony that I would wait in the waiting room, but he told me to come with him. Actually what he said was, “It is too dangerous for you to be on your own in your condition.” I think that he was worried that I would start chewing on the waiting room furniture if I didn’t find a snack soon.

We sat in the examination room in silence; Tony sat on the table and held his limp arm with his healthy arm, while I sat on the chair beside him and counted all of the tiles on the floor and the cracks in the ceiling. We could hear the radio from the Nurse’s station, and the song that was playing was “Perfect” by Fairground Attraction.

It was one of those songs that you couldn’t help but sing along to and laugh about how cheesy it was at the same time, so we both started to sing, “It’s got to be-e-e-e-e-e-e perfect, it’s got to be-e-e-e-e-e-e worth it…” Tony then decided to take the song a step further by changing it to “Wipe-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Bug-stin, Wipe-e-e-e-e-e-e-e Bug-stin…” and I couldn’t help but laugh. I looked him straight in the eye after he was finished singing my new theme song, and I got choked up when I told him how sorry I was. He responded by saying, “As many times as I broke your arms and nose, sprained your ankles and knocked a few of your teeth out, I would say that I definitely had it coming.” I said, “yeah, but those were all accidents.” He said, “well so was this, right? Or did you mean to almost kill me? Do you have any of that brownie left, by the way?”

I dug into my coat pocket, and sure enough there was at least half of a brownie there. He said, “you could make it up to me by sharing some of that brownie.” I handed it to him, and he split it in half. He offered the other half to me, but I told him that I just couldn’t bear to make Jesus any madder at me than He already was. Tony shook his head and said, “Jeez Wipey, you really need to lighten up! I’m no expert, but isn’t Jesus supposed to forgive you or some shit like that?” I said, “Well yeah, as long as you repent for your sins…” Tony said, “So eat the brownie and then tell God that you feel bad and you’re fucking sorry.” I sighed, looked at the gooey chocolate goodness that I held in my hand, and went ahead and ate my share of the brownie. It was delicious.

The doctor walked in as we were still chewing, and he said, “So what happened here?” We both just looked at each other with big eyes until Tony said, “Wipey Bugstin tried to kill me…” The doctor said, “Excuse me? Wipey who…?” We both almost fell out of our chairs laughing, and once we calmed down enough to speak, Tony said, “I just fell” to which I added, “on a golf club.” The doctor took one look at Tony’s injured arm and said, “Wow, that was one heckuva fall!” Tony said, “it was one heckuva golf club.”

The doctor looked over at me, and I’m sure I had the guiltiest look on my face. He asked me if I saw what happened, and my mouth opened but no sound came out. Before he had a chance to ask me anything else, Tony said, “Hey Whit, why don’t you go give Mom a call so that she can come pick us up.” The doctor looked relieved and said, “Oh I see, you guys are siblings!” I nodded, pointed at Tony and myself and said, “Yep, we’re brothers!” Tony burst out laughing. The doctor looked confused, like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just shrugged and said, “Ok then, well let’s go ahead and get an x-ray and we’ll go from there.”

They began to leave the room, so I followed behind them until the doctor pointed to the nurse’s station and told me that I could use the phone in there. I nodded and began to head in that direction until Tony said, “Wait, there is one more thing that I have to tell you.” I turned toward him just in time to see him flipping me the bird with his good hand, and to that gesture I replied, “I love you too.”

By the time I had walked over to the nurse’s station I had forgotten why I was there. The nurse said, “can I help you?” and I said, “Yes, um…do you have any snacks that I can borrow?”

Small Talk

Whenever I am in the Valley visiting my Mom, I generally expect to run into someone that I know when I am out in public so I try to look presentable and prepare myself for awkward small talk as much as possible, and so I was not even surprised when I saw Julie in the reception room after the Christmas recital that night.

I had actually seen her a little while back, at our 20 year high school reunion, but we never really had a chance to talk. Julie and I had grown up together in Sedro-Woolley, and we had attended the same church for a number of years.  She and I had had several mutual friends but were never really close friends with each other.

There was a short moment in time, during the first few months of ninth grade, when Julie and I sat on the floor in the hallway together everyday during lunch.  Neither of us ate lunch; me because I was terrified of getting diarrhea and not being able to hold it until I got home from school, and I’m not sure why Julie didn’t eat lunch because I never asked her.  We spent 30 uninterrupted minutes together everyday, but we never shared secrets. We told jokes and funny stories and laughed a lot, but I can’t say that we really knew anything about each other.

I had not seen Julie since high school, and the only thing that I could remember about that night at the reunion was when a few of us were standing around talking, and for some reason I felt the need to ask her, “Are you happy?”  She responded by laughing and saying, “Um yeah, I mean…yeah.”

The awkwardness should have ended there, but I felt the need to take it a step further by saying, “You can totally tell me if you’re not happy.”

Her stunned expression told me, “Go home Whitney, you are drunk.”

Fast forward to the night of the Christmas recital.  I could tell by the way that she was hiding behind the punch bowl that she was just as uncomfortable to be there as I was.  It is on occasions such as these when I can see Dave Button coming out in my DNA, because where most people would have just pretended that they had not seen each other in order to avoid an awkward encounter, I walked straight over to her and made her give me a hug.  The feigned expression of joy on her face told me that she was not as happy to see me as I was to see her, and yet for some reason I continued to prolong the torture.

“How are you? How have you been?” I asked her.  She stammered, “Good, I’m good! How are you? Are you good?”  I reassured her that I was good as well, and then we stood there in silence for an uncomfortable length of time; like a good twenty seconds.  She had turned to look for her kids, and I could tell that she was about to bolt, so I just turned to her and said sincerely, “Hey wait, let’s chat for a minute.  I really wanted to catch up with you at the reunion, but there were so many people there, and I had had way too much to drink, so tell me what you’ve been up to!”

As Julie began to tell me a few things about her life, I could not help but wander off in thought.  It seemed as though she was exactly the same as she was in high school, which meant that she was most likely still a very conservative christian.  I had lost a lot of friends when I “came out” and I knew that she was still friends with some of those who had turned their backs on me many years ago.  When I asked her who she is still friends with from high school, she named the one person who was my arch-nemesis, and that is when I blacked out a little bit.  I am pretty sure that I have a little PTSD when it comes to being in church, and being around “churchy” people, and for some reason it makes me feel the need to act as inappropriately as possible.

First I asked her if she was going to the church that the Christmas recital was being held in, and she said that she wasn’t, but that she had some friends who had kids that were in the choir.  I told her that that’s why I was there as well, because one of my best friends had 2 boys that were in the choir as well, so I was there to show my support.  Actually what I said was, “I hope my friend knows what a good friend I am to come to this thing because I really hate going to shit like this.”

Then I asked her if she had fun at the 20 year reunion, and she was like, “Yeah, it was pretty fun to see everyone.”  When she asked me the same question, I replied, “Oh man, it was a blast!  A bunch of us stayed for the after-party at the casino, and then Katie, Matthew and I went to the high school tennis courts and climbed over (I crawled under) the fence and just laid in the middle of the football field laughing, and telling stories, and acting all crazy.”

Julie’s response was, “Wow, a bunch of 40 year olds at the tennis courts, that must have been a sight!  We aren’t really as cool as we used to be, you know.”

I said, “Hey, speak for yourself!  We are totally just as cool, and in fact I think that we are even cooler now than we were back then.  Also, we’re not 40 quite yet.”

As we were talking I noticed a little girl running around, and I thought that she looked really familiar.  I asked Julie, “Hey, isn’t that Jessica’s little girl?”  Julie looked at her and just shrugged her shoulders.  I said, “I’m pretty sure that is Jessica’s kid, oh yeah now I see Jessica’s wife over there, but I don’t think that Jessica is here.”

Julie appeared shocked when she said, “Jessica’s…WIFE?!”

Me: “Yeah, Jessica’s wife; didn’t you know that Jessica is a lesbian?”  Julie started to stammer a bit, and it made me wonder if she somehow missed the memo that I am a lesbian as well.

I saw my friends walking into the reception area and I waved for them to come over.  I told Julie, “Hey, let me introduce you to my friends who invited me here.”  Julie looked like she was about to make a run for it, but Brianna and Willie walked over before she had a chance to make her exit.

I said, “Hey guys, this is one of my old friends from high school, Julie; and Julie, these are my great friends, Brianna and Willie!”

They all shook hands, and I could tell that Brianna was wracking her brain trying to remember if I’ve told her any Julie stories, and so I went on to say, “Julie and I went to the same church back in high school.”  Brianna gave me a knowing smile and was like, “Oh yeah, cool!”  I explained to Julie that Brianna and Willie and I all met in college.

Julie said, “It is actually kind of crazy that I ran into you tonight, Whitney, because lately I have been running into all sorts of people from my past, and it is kind of fun to remember the good old days.”

I said, “I know what you mean!  Last year one of my friends from Australia came to visit me in Seattle, and it was like a real full-circle kind of experience.  It has been so long since I lived in Australia that it sort of feels like it was a dream or something, you know?”

Julie said, “You lived in Australia?”

Me: “Yeah, I was a missionary there for several years right out of high school.”

Julie: “Oh that’s really cool!”

There are so many positive directions that the conversation could have gone from there, but instead I chose to just let the following words fall out of my mouth:

“Yeah, it was an amazing experience. It was so great to see my Aussie friend again, and we had a great time up until I got drunk and asked him if I could borrow some sperm…”

Brianna and Willie both burst out laughing, and Julie just looked at me with giant eyes and said, “What did you just say?  Did you say ‘sperm’?”

Until I had witnessed the shock and horror on Julie’s face, I hadn’t considered that it was probably not the best environment to be using words like “drunk” and “sperm”.   I mean, it was a Christmas recital after all, and more specifically it was a Christmas recital at a conservative church in a very small town.  I wanted to explain myself to Julie by telling her that I might still want to have a baby, and if I had a baby it would have to be through artificial insemination or adoption due to my sexual orientation, and if I had to choose a donor then my Aussie friend would be the perfect choice, but he might feel like it was a terrible sin to bring a child into the world to be raised by a couple of chubby lesbians, so he probably wasn’t the best person for me to ask, but I did not have time to explain any of this because Julie had literally made a run for it.

I looked at Brianna and Willie who were both practically crying because they were laughing so hard, and I asked them, “Oh my God, why didn’t you stop me from saying all that?!?!”

Brianna was like, “How were we supposed to know that you were going to go there??  I mean, we really had no idea…”

I said, “She probably thinks that I’m a sex crazed alcoholic!”

Brianna said, “Well…aren’t you?”

I said, “Shut your face, Bri!  I guess I just forgot that we didn’t all move away from the Valley and become horrible people.  Oh, and by the way, I hope that you appreciate me coming to this recital thing because you know I hate going to shit like this.”

Brianna said, “You know we appreciate it.”

I said, “Good, because this is all your fault.  Now can we please go home and drink beer like normal people?”

Lucy-Furr.

IMG_1545Does anyone have a pair of Falcon gloves that I can borrow? Or maybe a suit of armor?

My kitten, Lucy-Furr, has suddenly become a Rastafarian. She has a strip of dreadlocks all the way down the middle of her back that sticks up and makes her look like she’s got porcupine quills, and even with Rea holding her down while I try to brush her, and vise versa, she scratches and bites us so bad that we scream in pain, and there is blood everywhere, and her eyes turn black, and she whispers something through the air between her blood-tipped-fangs that sounds almost like she’s saying “I’m going to kill you all in your sleep…”

For all of these reasons and more; her porcupine-looking-dreadlocks remain, and I’m finding myself wondering if I may need to hire an experienced exorcist priest to come and remove the demons from this so-called-kitten.

No disrespect, but this shit is beyond the Kitten Whisperer’s expertise.

Help!

Help us!

No, seriously.

HELP.

Dear God, please…

S.O.S

This is the only way that Rea and I can communicate with the outside world, because fortunately for us, Lucy-Furr has never learned how to read. She has us trapped in the basement, and when Nash tried to save us from her earlier, she simply backhanded him with her left paw, and he flew threw the air, bounded off of the wall, and was knocked unconscious. She laughed afterwards like a maniac and I may have peed a little.

If anyone could please come over and try to entice her away from us with a trail of Meow Mix (laced with Vicodin) I would surely appreciate it.

The Evolution of Men.

Click on the following link to watch the video that this conversation refers to:  Man Humor

I just watched this with (an unnamed) friend, and we both agreed that this video most completely and accurately narrates the Evolution of Men, better than anything we’ve ever seen.

Maybe even better than “Men are from Venis and Mars”…

Me:  “Wait…did I just write ‘Venis’?”

My unnamed friend laughed and said, “Why didn’t you just say ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’?”

My reply was, “Because I meant to say ‘VENUS’…”

UFO:  “Oh…okay, you absolutely cannot post that on your blog…”

Me:  “What about if we have someone else read it first, and then we have a vote to decide whether or not it should go on my blog?”

UFO:  “But will it actually contain the word ‘penis’?”

Me:  “Of course it would!”

UFO:  “Then, NO.”

Bunny Owners.

IMG_1468I have recently added Dog Walking to my professional resume. It has been a wonderful tool for getting me up earlier in the morning, you know, since I actually get paid to play with dogs and get exercise! I currently walk 4 different dogs for a total of 2 hours of walking each day, 5 days a week. That’s some great exercise!You would think that it would be pretty difficult to embarrass myself in this line of work, but rest assured; I have found a way…

Today I was walking Copper (the sweetest Labradoodle in the entire world) around her neighborhood. I always take her to this house that’s about 6 blocks away, because her favorite thing in the world is to go and visit the bunnies.

There are 4 bunnies who live in a really large, fenced, outdoor kennel, and Copper just loves to sit there and watch them for a few minutes. She doesn’t bark, or growl at all; she is just saying hello to her little Bunny Friends.

Well today, as we were walking up the hill, after visiting Copper’s Bunny Friends, we ran into 2 elderly men who were standing on the sidewalk chatting. One of the men tipped his hat to me (because he was such a gentleman) and said, “Well Hello, Copper! Is that Copper?!”

Copper got all excited, so I smiled and said, “Yes, this is Copper. And you must be one of the Boners…!”

Both men appeared stunned, and a good 3 seconds before I registered what I had just said…

Me: “I’m so sorry! I meant to say Bunny Owners! You must be one of the Bunny Owners!”

The other man completely avoided eye contact with me, and the Bunny Owner gave me a stiff smile and said, “Yes, they are my bunnies…”

Me: “Copper just LOVES to visit your bunnies! But I guess you already knew that…umm, yeah….
…nice weather we’re having today, huh?”

Both men appeared relieved and smiled as Copper and I hurriedly walked away. They both agreed, “Yeah it’s a beautiful day!”

Oh.

My.

Gargoyle.

Boners.

I called an old man a “Boner” today.

Bunny. Owner. BUNNY OWNER.

Bunny Owner!!!

IMG_1600

Seattle’s Latest Fashion Trends?

1392074_10151881445905862_1080678265_nApparently Macy’s is ready to make Seattle winter fashion a bit on the racy side…?  

One good thing about this new look:

If all women have to wear is a scarf to match their handbags, then perhaps Macy’s could accurately advertise this trend as “One size fits All”…

Unless of course someone had an extraordinarily large neck, which would make the scarf look more like a choker necklace.

…Or if they had extraordinarily large arms, which would make the handbag look more like an armpit with a wallet sticking out of it.

A bit of advice Macy’s:  It is always safer to go with the motto of “One size fits MOST” so as to offend the LEAST amount of people.

Rea:  Ok! That is really funny:)

Rosemary:  Maybe… They are advertising to people without arms and that also don’t like to wear clothes in one size fits most.

Whitney:  True. Even people with no arms need to keep their necks warm…

Rae:  Can’t stop laughing love it!

Amy:  I’m laughing so hard right now! Whitney, your perceptiveness continues to amuse and amaze me.

Melissa:  I feel my sales will go up w/the current fashion. I am on it doggon it!

Whitney:  You go girl!

Joshua:  I hope they come out with the necktie/sticky wallet combo for men soon!!!!

Margaret:  My boobs would get cold.