That Time I Let A Foreigner Sleep At My House

Before I tell this story, you all have to promise not to judge me.

In order for this story to make sense, I should explain that my job works closely with travel. I won’t say where to protect my job and my privacy, but I work with people traveling all the time and I get to meet a lot of really cool people

Sometimes I even meet movie stars...

Sometimes I even meet movie stars…

There was one evening though, that a young Chinese woman came in with a man here from Louisiana. She had four suitcases and she was trying to get my attention. Since I was pretty much done working for the night, I went over to see if I could help her.

She told me that she had to get to Kansas City as quickly as possible and needed to know if she could buy a ticket that night. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help her that evening. I told her the next time we had anything going out would be early the next morning, but I didn’t have the ability to sell it to her. I told her to go online and look there, but her computer was pretty wonky and wasn’t working. She had been in the United States for less than a day, and she was scared.

I found out that the man that she was with was hosting her here in Shreveport, and he was a little on the creepy side, if I do say so myself. He was polite enough, but the way she was acting and the way he was talking poorly about her to her face and to me, a total stranger, tipped me off a little bit. I tried to ignore my instincts, but there really wasn’t much to be done. He kept telling her to get in his car, she kept refusing. She even turned me and pulled me away from him, mouthing something to me, something I couldn’t quite figure out.

She eventually made him angry enough that he stormed off. She went into a different part of the building and said she was going to sleep there until she could buy a ticket in the morning. I went back to finish up paperwork at my job, but my stomach kept nagging me. I knew something was up, and if I had been her, I would have been terrified. Once I had clocked out, I saw her in a different part of the building with her laptop out, trying to get ahold of her friend. When I sat down next to her, she started crying, telling me how scared she was.

This made me feel really rotten. She was mouthing, “Help me,” when I was telling her to go back with the person hosting her. Apparently he had a gun on every wall of the house, he had a history of mail order brides and being divorced from them, and she was just, overall, realizing that staying with him was a bad idea so she told him she had to go to the airport to see her friend in Kansas City.

She told me quite a bit about herself, and the more I talked to her, the more I liked her. However, after an hour of sitting with her, Alex was asking me where I was. I told her I had to go and every time I tried to leave, she would grab my hand and ask me if I could stay just a few minutes more. After another hour, I was able to go home, but not until she had given me a flannel toilet seat cover with penguins on it. She said it was to keep my butt warm in the winter.

True Story, this is the EXACT toilet seat cover she gave me.  It is SO DAMN SOFT!

True Story, this is the EXACT toilet seat cover she gave me. It is SO DAMN SOFT!

As I was starting the drive home, I called Alex and told him the entire situation. I mentioned that I had offered to bring her home with me and let her stay the night, and she had declined. Alex then asked me if I had insisted.

No, I hadn’t really. And the farther I got away from my work, the guiltier I felt. I thought that if I was in a strange place, where I hardly spoke the language, I would be terrified. I would be unable to function well, and I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about her well-being. I knew she was scared, and I was scared for her.

I turned the car around and drove back and found her trying to ask people to help her buy a ticket. I came upon her and told her to come home with me. I told her my husband was okay with it and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. After ten minutes of bickering with her a bit, she reluctantly agreed and put her stuff in my car. The farther from my work we were, the more bubbly she became. I think that I had earned her trust enough for her to trust me. We got to my house and I told her I had two dogs and my house wasn’t super clean, to which she exclaimed it was much cleaner than the guy’s house that she had stayed at for one day.

She gave us some awesome Chinese medicinal patches for muscle relaxing, a keychain for Alex with Panda’s on it, and a shell necklace. She gave us these things because she said she was so grateful for us helping her.

She noticed that we had Chinese art throughout the house and commented that she never thought that the Chinese culture really picked up in the States. She cried when thanking Alex for letting her stay with us, and Alex and I told her that we expect the same if we ever visit China, to which she agreed heartily.

We talked for a while, getting to know each other, and the next morning I woke her up to get a cab to get to the airport and fly to Kansas City.

A few days later she texted me, telling me she made it there safely and was staying with her friend, and that we should skype soon.

So that’s my good deed of the month.

Have you ever helped a stranger in need? Do you think I was being risky letting a stranger stay in my home? What are your thoughts? Let me know in the comments!

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Four Years A Bride: The Finale

Haven’t read the other parts?

Part I  Part II  Part III

After I had totaled and flipped my car, my view on life completely changed.

As I had stated in my last post, I was tired of being lonely.  I was tired of being strong.  I was tired of being so self-reliant.  Honestly, I was just tired.

I had been working 80 hours a week for four months at that point.  When I had one day off, which was very far and few between, I would just sleep for 14 hours.  I didn’t even enjoy my days off.  When I was dating Alex, I would see him at night, and if I only had to work one job, I would usually sit on his bed with him and talk, and we talked about everything.  Slowly, he had not become only my lover, but my best friend.

After I had flipped my car, I basically lost my job at the deli.  My manager put me at 23 hours a week, which was my main source of income.  She said that after flipping my car, I wasn’t reliable anymore.  My other job was paying well, but between student loans, car insurance that went through the fucking roof, rent, and basic living expenses, I was maxing out a credit card just to survive.

My mother had told me that if I ever asked her for rent money, she would mail me a ticket to fly home.  I would ship back only the necessary stuff, and give away the rest.

So when I was figuring out how I was going to survive, I would usually burst into tears.  I liked Minnesota, but Alaska, to date, is the only place where I’ve ever felt that I fit in.  It was the only place that I could be 100% true to myself and not feel scorned for it.

And if this blog hasn’t given you any insight: I’m really fucking weird.

I remember sitting with Alex, telling him my woes, explaining that I might have to move home, and unfortunately, we would probably have to split.

I don’t do long distance relationships, we wouldn’t be able to afford to fly back and forth from Minnesota and Alaska, and I honestly couldn’t see doing a long distance.  He asked me what he could do to keep me in Alaska, and I joked and said, “Well, there’s always marriage.”

We had been talking marriage a little more seriously.  Because you obviously know someone ridiculously well after two months of being together.

I laughed, but he didn’t.  The next day, we decided to go out to eat.  It was a few days after I had flipped my car and I was still a little sore.  We went out to eat at the Wolf’s Run, which was my favorite restaurant in Alaska.  They were mostly a dessert shop, but their dinners were ridiculously good.  It was pretty early so we were the only ones in the restaurant.  It was stunningly quiet, and once we sat down and the waitress left, Alex took my hands and gave this huge speech.

He told me that his life was a puzzle, and I was the missing piece.  That he had never been in love so deeply before, that I was the other half to make him whole.  He said a lot of mushy stuff and I thought it was sweet, but I didn’t quite get what he was getting at.

“So Leah, my love, my life, will you do the honor of marrying me?” he asked me.

Because I’m so fucking romantic, I responded with, “Sure, why not?”

As you can imagine, the look on his face was priceless.  He put his face in his hands and started to laugh.  “Leah, I’m being serious right now.”

My eyes grew wide.  “Oh shit!  Uh, yes!  Yes, I’ll marry you!”

To which we kissed across the table.  The waitress came around with our hot chocolate and we told her we were engaged.  She just smiled and asked for our orders.

The rest of the night we walked around, figuring out how to tell our family.  I emailed my mom and she didn’t believe me until it was Facebook official, which is the only official that you really need.  Alex’s mom found out via Facebook.  Pretty much the whole family found out about it via Facebook.

Since most of you are probably wondering… he did not propose with a ring.  He was fresh out of basic, he was just as broke as I was.  Alas, this is likely my Alaska side coming out.  To me, rings are usually impractical.  I don’t really care for jewelry.  Alex couldn’t afford a ring and he told me he was going to buy me a big shiny rock someday.  He felt bad that he proposed without a ring, but for me, it wasn’t important.  I wasn’t marrying a ring, I was marrying him.  I knew he loved me, I could see it whenever he smiled at me, or held me, or even when he would talk to me.

My friends felt the same that I did.  A wedding ring is material, it will come in time.  I’ve met several people who didn’t get a ring until they had been together for years.  It wasn’t a big deal.

However, when Alex told his coworkers that he proposed without a ring, they couldn’t believe I said yes without a ring.  A lot of people I knew on base told me that I was stupid for accepting without a ring.  Even here in Louisiana, people told me that they would never accept a marriage proposal without a ring worth at least two grand.  Something I will never, ever understand.

So, on my 21st birthday, two weeks after he proposed, on Valentines, he took me to a jewelry store and let me pick out an engagement ring.

I went over to the sapphires because I really don’t like diamonds and I found a small sapphire ring.  It was $200, and I felt awful finding something to expensive.  However, I really liked it.  I showed it to Alex and he told me that I should pick something more expensive, and I told him no.  I liked simple.

My engagement ring and wedding band.  Total cost was ridiculously low.  And awesome.

My engagement ring and wedding band. Total cost was ridiculously low. And awesome.

So he bought me the ring and I got it sized, and I haven’t really taken it off in the past four years.

On February 28th, the justice of the peace in Fairbanks was meeting us at the chapel on base.  She was two hours late.  One of my best friends in Alaska was there, her mother was there, Alex’s shop chief and his wife were there, and my mom flew up at the last minute to be there.

The justice of the peace was awful.  She stood before us and said, “Do you?  Do you?  Okay, you’re married.”

I remember standing there for about forty seconds before saying, “Can I kiss him now?”

She looked shocked.  “Sure, if you want.”

So we kissed, and we were married.  My mom said she didn’t even have time to get the tears worked up.  My friend’s mom and Alex’s shop chief witnessed the wedding.  From there we went to where I worked and bowled a few games with Alex’s shop.  My mom bought me a cheeseburger and a bottle of Mike’s hard lemonade, and that was my wedding.

Thanks to my friend Marissa for having the thought of bringing a camera that day.

Thanks to my friend Marissa for having the thought of bringing a camera that day.

The next day, we went to the Ice Art Championships in Fairbanks with my mom, and that was my honeymoon.

About four months later we had a “real wedding” in Las Vegas, where I had a fancy ass dress and more of my family attended.  Where I had a horrible wedding photographer.

But that’s okay, because I got the best possible thing out of the entire situation.

I got to gamble in Vegas while totally and completely hammered.

Oh, I got to marry Alex too.

So yeah, that’s how I got married.

Credit to my sister in law for taking this picture.  It looks far better than any of the professional pictures.

Credit to my sister in law for taking this picture. It looks far better than any of the professional pictures.

Alex, happy four years.  You’re the Samwise to my Frodo Baggins.  You’re the Gandalf to my Bilbo Baggins.  You’re the precious to my Gollum.  You’re my lover, my friend, my husband.  I know we drive each other batty more often than not, but I love you, and I want to have at least another 40 years of happiness.

How did your spouse propose to you?  What kind of wedding did you have?  Do you lack the romance like me?  Let me know in the comments!

Pray The Baby Away

Believe it or not, I’m writing about the south.  It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the chance to post anything, much less anything about what this blog was originally for!

I work with a guy from southern Mississippi, and he’s a hoot.  He’s extremely progressive for someone from Mississippi.  He’s gay and married, in a polyamorous relationship, going to school, so on and so forth.  When he was in college in Mississippi, he would be a substitute teacher at local high schools and he would go into schools to tell kids to use condoms.

He told me a story that I had begged him to let me tell to you all, and he happily agreed. This is the story of how a football captain thought that you could pray the STD away.

There are two things that you must realize: condom use is not big in the south and gays are so unnatural they have supernatural powers the devil gave them.  Obviously.

When my coworker, who we will call Joe, was talking to kids about the importance of condom use, he was giving examples as to how condoms work not just for STD’s, but for preventing pregnancy.   The football captain of this particular school raised his hand to be called on to explain why he didn’t need condoms.

“Well it’s a sin to use condoms.  If you pray after sex, the girl won’t get pregnant.  Everyone knows that.”

Joe, who is not a total fucking idiot, told him that it doesn’t quite work like that.  “Well, what about STD’s?” Joe had asked him.

The kid smiled.  “Only gays have STD’s.  You don’t actually get them from having sex either.”

Joe decided to be cheeky.  “How about you go get tested then to prove that only gay’s get STD’s?  Let’s see if you have one.”

The kid, who thought he was being cocky, decided that he was going to get tested and prove to everyone that STD’s aren’t from sex and only gays get STD’s.

The results came back and the kid tested positive for Chlamydia and Gonorrhea.

The kid was outraged, and Joe tried to explain.  “It’s okay, just use condoms and you won’t get any more STD’s and nobody will get pregnant.”

The kid countered back, “You must have hexed me!  The gays put a curse on me!  They were jealous of me so they put a hex on me and gave me a fucking disease!”

When Joe had told me this part, I almost didn’t believe him.  How can someone be so dumb to think that gays can put a hex on a person to give them an STD?

Then I thought about it.

And it made sense.

My mind was going, “This story is total bullshit.”  But how he told me, there are just those stories that your gut knows is true.  This was one of those stories.  I knew that even if he was making up that story, this story was true because this isn’t the first time I’ve heard of gays having supernatural abilities to give others STDs and turn others gay.

I told this story to a few people.  Alex mentioned that the kid probably thought that gays were actually just were-gays, and when I told a friend of mine from Minnesota who’s a teacher and also gay, his response was, “Jesus Fucking Christ, of course he had an STD.”

So there you have it.  Gays are not only lycanthropes, but also they have supernatural powers to hex straights with diseases.

Because that totally makes sense.

What crazy stories have you heard about different groups?  Do you believe in the were-gay?  Do you think that gays have supernatural hexing powers?  Let me know in the comments! 

The Were-Gay

Hi everyone!  I wanted to wish everyone a happy holidays and a great new year!  I’m sorry I haven’t posted in so long, I’ve been incredibly busy doing training for my job and overall dealing with crazy people (I have several posts planned).

This post is a prequel to a post I will be posting later this week.  Alex and I have a joke about were-gays, which are were-wolves but not quite.  The story I was going to tell involves that joke, but since it would be kind of hard to explain without this story, Alex has graciously offered to write this post regarding the origin of the were-gay, so I can tell the awesome hilarious story later on.  So without further adieu, I hope you enjoy Alex’s writing 🙂

Having been a long time reader of my wife’s post (this is definitely said without her looking over my shoulder), I wanted to give the first-view perspective to a situation that happened to me. I hope you enjoy.

I once had a group of friends that would get together and shoot the breeze with. It was a great group of people and I miss them greatly. One of them (for the sake of protecting the innocent we will call her Amber) was a particularly violent lesbian who was also an army recruiter. She was by far my favorite as all of her stories were over the top and hilarious from my point of view. I’d still be supportive to her plights, but MAN was she funny to listen to.

During one particular story she was talking about funny double standards in dealing with gay recruits. Recruiters will often transport an applicant to several locations to in-process the individual. It is a huge taboo with recruiters (apparently) to transport applicants of the opposite gender anywhere. This is a good rule in making sure that no one is being taken advantage of and keeps people safe.

The one drawback to this is when the applicant happens to be gay. In the happenstance of the applicant being a gay male and the recruiter being a hetero male, this causes “strife”.

I know why this is probably the case, but I go ahead and ask Amber why.

“Because none of the other recruiters want to be alone in the car with these gay guys,” she groans, her eyes almost rolling out of her head onto the floor.

I’m genuinely intrigued by the statement. “So they think these men can’t get through a car ride without hitting on them?”

“You should hear these guys,” she laughed, “they honestly start to panic when they have to take him somewhere. They’re convinced he’s going to overpower them on the car ride.”

At this point I start to laugh, and when I say laugh I mean that kind of laugh where you start at a chuckle and slowly evolve into a full-blown “I-can’t-breathe-please-stop-me-before-I-hyperventilate” state of mind. I’m holding my sides and laughing while Amber is chuckling but also wondering why I’ve suddenly lost my marbles.

When I finally catch my breath I let her in on the little secret. It was a scenario that played out like this…

Two men, an army Tech Sergeant and a hopeful recruit, sit quietly in a car driving on the freeway. The radio playing a country song that neither man is listening to. The sergeant drives, hoping to keep conversation to a minimum as to avoid any awkward situations. The recruit keeps his silence and looks straight ahead.

Suddenly, the full moon looms overhead and the recruit clutches his chest in pain. He screams in agony and doubles over in pain against his seat belt. The recruiter is at a loss and begins to panic at the situation.

“Are you ok?!” the recruiter yells, hoping against all odds that this is not as bad as it looks.

“I…can’t…fight it…” the recruit manages to gasp in painful breaths.


The recruit looks the sergeant, his eyes a tinted yellow and wolf-like. He licks his lips and bears his now canine teeth. A mad look of hunger and desire are apparent behind those inhumane eyes.

“…I NEED THAT DICK!!!”

With that the were-gay lunges from his seat while the sergeant is helpless whilst driving the vehicle. In an unnatural move of dexterity and super-gayness the recruit rips off that sergeants pants and jams his cock right in his mouth. The were-gay howls in delight, his howl of course coming out unclear with all the man meat in his supernatural jaws.

So yeah, that’s what ran through my mind at the thought of that. Of course it’s silly for me to think that’s actually true. Pretty ridiculous, right?

…although I’ve never seen a werewolf and a gay man in the same room together…

Have you ever been subjected to werewolves?  Do you know people who think that this is how homosexuality is caused?  Do you have a similar hilarious story?  Let me know in the comments!

Four Years A Bride: How I Almost Died

Part 1      Part 2

After dating Alex about a month, we had already told each other the dreaded L word.  I was sleeping over at his place every day, and nights that I wasn’t at his house, we were texting each other all night because we couldn’t sleep without the other one.  When I worked on base, he would walk to my work, pick up my car, fill it up and go grocery shopping to make sure I ate my veggies.

If there was a rare occasion that we both had a day off, we spent it in his dorm room watching movies and cuddling.  I had been in love once before, but never like this.  It was intoxicating.  When we were together, I felt complete and at peace, when we were apart, I ached for him in a way I never knew a person could ache for someone.

Once a year I would fly home to Minnesota to visit my family, always on my mom’s dollar because I was poor.  She would fly me home, I’d see the dentist and any other medical check ups I needed, mom would take me clothes shopping, my friends would throw a party and we’d either get drunk or just hang out, and so on.  This trip, I remember a very distinct conversation with my mom about my relationship with Alex.

I told her that I was going to marry Alex.  I just knew that I was going to marry him.  Alex and I started joking about it after two weeks of dating, saying “if we get married.”  When the one month mark hit, we were saying “When we get married” and neither of us corrected the other.

My mom told me that I needed to wait at least six months so I could get to know him.  She said that I needed to be careful because he could be someone who is abusive, and to be fair, she made a lot of really good points.  The points she made, honestly, are points I make to people when they mention marriage after knowing someone for a year.

But I was 20 years old, I thought I knew everything.  I told her that we were going to get married probably in June, and while he hadn’t proposed yet, I knew he was thinking of doing it, he had told me as much.

But not this romantic

But not this romantic

My mom tried to talk me out of it and she said she wanted to meet him before I considered marrying him and that we should plan a trip to visit all of our families before getting married, but we lived in Alaska and he was newly enlisted, he was just as broke as I was.    But as always, my mom knew best, and her advice was really solid advice.  But I just didn’t want to listen.

I got my wisdom teeth taken out two days before I flew back to Minnesota, and the day after I was so high on pain meds that I didn’t remember my brother sitting with me on the couch singing Rocky Horror Picture Show.  Nor do I remember my step dad talking to me, or anything.  I do remember yelling at my mom that I wanted a hamburger smoothie and that I had to have Greek yogurt, to which she laughed and told me to shut the hell up.

The day I flew back to Alaska, Alex was going to meet me at the airport.  He had my car, after all.  When I landed in Fairbanks, I was still a little out of it from the meds, but I saw him at the baggage claim, standing there with a worried look on his face.  When he saw me, he opened his arms and I ran to him, refusing to let go of him.  There were a few people there cooing and awing, but we had only been apart a week, and to us, it felt like an eternity.

We got my suitcase and went back to his dorm.  We fell asleep holding hands.

The next morning I had to go back to Fairbanks to find out when I was supposed to work at the deli, and I knew that I had to work that night at the bowling alley, but I was still kind of out of it.  I had to take a Vicodin the night before and I don’t think it was completely out of my system.  I was also jet lagged.  That day, it was mid-January and it was -44 outside with drifting snow.

I was a fearless driver, never afraid of speeding and never afraid of anything happening to me because come on, nothing bad ever happens to me.  I was naïve.

I fell asleep behind the wheel for an instant, going 65 on the highway with drifting snow.  When I woke up, I saw I was going head first into a snow bank, I overturned, spun out of control, and my car flipped and landed in the ditch.

It all happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what was happening.  The car was spinning then suddenly I was upside down, the roof of my car had caved in and was nearly touching my head, the engine turned off, stuff was everywhere, and I was staring at a St Christopher medal that was on my visor.  I saw cars driving by, I saw the snow falling, and the seatbelt was causing me pain for restraining me in my chair.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I actually never saved the picture of my flipped car, but it looked pretty much like this.

I remembered I started screaming, but it seemed so far away.  I didn’t feel like I was in my body because I was so scared.  I remember seeing a woman a few feet away from my window, looking in to the window.  I started to pound on the window, screaming for help and she ran away.  I was trapped upside down, unable to move, my body paralyzed with fear.  I found my phone somehow and dialed the last number I had called.

It was Alex.

He picked up on the second ring, a little bit of fun in his voice.  “Did you butt dial me?” he said with a chuckle.

“OH MY GOD ALEX I JUST FLIPPED MY CAR AND I’M TRAPPED AND I’M SCARED AND I’M UPSIDE DOWN AND I JUST PAID OFF THIS CAR AND CUT THE INSURANCE LAST WEEK OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE!”

Let me tell you, not the best way to go about this kind of situation.  I could only scream.  I remember him trying to calm me down and say it without screaming and I continued to be hysterical, screaming that I was probably going to die because it was -44 outside that day and I was in the ditch somewhere between North Pole and Fairbanks.   Oh, and because I was trapped upside down.  Can’t forget that bit.  The blood was going to my head.

He said he was going to hang up and have the dispatcher call me.  I cried that I didn’t want him to hang up and he did.  A few minutes later a dispatcher called me and told me to stay calm.  In the few minutes where I was waiting for my phone to ring, I pushed myself up into my seat and unclasped the seatbelt and slid to the roof of my car, laying on the ceiling, no longer upside down.  The dispatcher asked me if I was okay, and I told her no because I had just paid off the car and cut the insurance.  She asked me if I was physically injured and I told her no.

However, when you have that much adrenaline, you don’t feel anything.  The fire department, an ambulance, and the state troopers arrived and they asked me if I could crawl to the back seat and climb out the back window.

I had so much shit in my car that I couldn’t leave the front seat.  They asked me if I had a blanket to cover my face and I pulled it over and covered my face while they used a sledge hammer to break the window.  The pulled the blanket away from me and placed it over the broken glass while I crawled out the window.

Since this day was a horrible day, my ass got stuck in the window.  Since I was still hysterical from flipping my car and being totally fucking broke, I started screaming because my ass was trapped in that fucking car.  I think the responders were trying not to laugh at my yelling, “OH MY GOD MY ASS IS STUCK! I’M GOING TO DIE!”

I got into the ambulance and they gave me a once over, making sure I still had feeling in my legs and arms, checking my blood pressure, which was 180 over 120.  Apparently that’s really fucking high.

My eyes were fully dilated, I was shaking, I was cold, but I was alive.  They told me if I hadn’t of worn my seatbelt, I’d be dead.  If it had been summer and there was no snow to cushion the fall, the car would have compressed more and I would have died, if the glass had shattered in the right way, it would have blinded me.  All the conditions were perfect for me to come out injury free for the most part.

As they were telling me this, I realized my hand feel really warm.  I looked down and saw that it was covered in warm blood.  Since my adrenaline was still ridiculously high, I screamed “OH MY GOD I’M BLEEDING TO DEATH!”

A small piece of glass was taken out of my hand and they put a band aid on it, cleaning the blood off.  The cut didn’t even need stitches, but my blood pressure was so high that it was flying out of me.

They asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital, but I didn’t have health insurance so I couldn’t afford it.  They called a tow truck and I waited in the troopers car.  I got my phone and called Alex, telling him I was fine and I was broke and had no idea what to do.  I called my mom and got her voicemail, telling her to call me when she promised to not get mad.  I called my roommate to tell her that I got into an accident and I was okay.  I called my managers at each job and told them that I couldn’t work that day because I had no transportation because I totaled my car.

When my mom called me, she said she wouldn’t get mad.  She promised.  And I told her I flipped and totaled my car. She asked me if I was hurt, I said no.  Then she started to scream at the top of her lungs.  I almost dropped the phone.

The tow truck driver yelled at me because the key was missing from the ignition, but I had no idea where it had fallen.  I thought it was in the engine.  To this day, I have no idea where that key went.  They towed the car to the house I was staying at, and I did the one thing that I had wanted to do since the car started spinning out of control.

I really had to shit.

That whole, “Always wear clean underwear when you get into a car accident,” is no lie.  My god, since the moment the car went upside down, it was painful to hold in.  It was so fucking insane, I was so relieved to see a toilet.  There is no greater happiness than seeing a toilet after you total your car.

Hello beautiful... I am going to destroy you

Hello beautiful… I am going to destroy you

My coworker at the bowling alley offered to pick me up and take me to the Air Force Base to see Alex, and I really needed to work.  I went into work, letting Alex know I was on base, and told my manager that I wanted to work my shift after all.

She said I was fucking crazy.  And she was right.  I should not have worked.

Now one thing, when I flipped the car, I almost died.  I saw my life flash before me, but not like seeing all these things that I had done.  I saw all the things I didn’t do.  All the things I wanted to do in my life.  I saw Alex in a way I never saw him before.  I saw myself growing old with him, I saw him not just as my boyfriend, but as my companion, my husband, my soul mate.  When I was trapped upside down, all I thought through all of that, besides emptying my bowels, was, “If I get out of this alive, I have to tell Alex I love him.”  Alex and I had talked marriage, but I didn’t realize just what that entailed, and after flipping my car and nearly dying, I realized exactly what that meant.  I didn’t want to spend another day without Alex.  I wanted to grow old with him.  I wanted to wake up next to him every day, to fight with him, to buy a house together.  I wanted all that mushy stuff.  I was tired of moving every few months, I was tired of working two full time jobs just to make ends meet.  I was tired of being so lonely.  I was tired of being so damn strong.  I wanted to be able to lean on someone, even if just for an instant.  I wanted Alex to be with me for the rest of my life, and I realized at that moment exactly what that entailed.

As soon as he found out I was at work, he had the troll drive him to the bowling alley.  When he saw me, he went from walking to full blown sprinting. I didn’t even see him enter the building, but my manager did, and she started giggling when she saw him run.  He tackled me, squeezing me so tight I coucouldn’teathe.  He touched my face, he felt to make sure I wasn’t hurt, he kissed me.  He was almost in tears.

To say the least, I found out he felt the same way.

I was only able to work a few hours of my shift.  When the adrenaline calmed down, I was so dizzy that I nearly passed out.  I was trying not to cry.  I was so incredibly exhausted that I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.  My coworker said she’d cover the rest of my shift and my manager said it was okay for me to leave.  I was going to walk to Alex’s dorm, which was about a quarter of a mile away, but my coworker called her husband and had him drive me the short distance.  He offered to walk me to the door, but I said no and walked myself.

When I got to Alex’s dorm, he just sat and held me as I started to cry.  I had no idea what was going to happen.  I couldn’t afford a new car.  I could barely afford my rent.  Alex wasn’t allowed to live off base so we couldn’t get an apartment together unless we got married.  I was afraid of what the coming months had in store for me.

The next day my body was so sore and stiff that I couldn’t even move.  It hurt just to sit up.  So I called into work and my manager had already given my shift away because she knew I’d be sore.  Alex didn’t have a car, and since he’s an asshat in situations like this, he made me walk all over base to get anything I’d need for the next few days.  That was the most painful day of my life.

A week later I was back to working both jobs, taking a taxi to work or having my friend pick me up to go to the base.  My mom gave me a loan of cash to buy a ’97 Buick LeSabre, which I drove for two years.  When I went back to work at Safeway, my manager told me that I was no longer dependable and that I needed to quit or she’d find a way to fire me.

But Alex came to the rescue…

 

Have you ever almost died?  Have you ever been in a situation where you were given an ultimatum?  Did your significant other ever save your life?  Let me know in the comments!

Crazy Yacht Parties: Tales Of A Crazy Biatch Bonus Round

Have you read about Marjorie before?  If so, continue, if not, here’s some context.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4

 

So, of course, Marjorie had a lot of other stories that I just couldn’t fit in because they just weren’t as bat shit crazy as the rest of her stories, but there was one that I remembered, and I thought, “My god, this would get me so many views and people might use these stories in work seminars to explain why you should avoid crazy—I SHOULD TOTALLY TELL IT!”

So, alas, here is the story of how Marjorie told me about how she threw a party on her yacht when her dad died.

Yes, you read that right.

Marjorie claimed to be a gold digger.  However, I thought gold diggers were supposed to be extremely pretty and hot and pretty much super models, something that Marjorie wasn’t.  She wasn’t ugly by any means, but she was fairly average looking, and on the heavier side.  When I think gold diggers, I think more along the lines of Kate Upton.

Definitely not Marjorie

Definitely not Marjorie

However, she said that in her home state, she had a bunch of sports cars and sports boats, and even a yacht, because her sugar daddies and ex-husbands believed in taking care of her in the best possible way.

At this point, I figured that she must be delusional, but I smiled and let her continue her bat shit craziness.

She told me that her dad was a military officer and she had 5 or six siblings, I forget honestly.  She said that she and her siblings all hated their dad, but before she told me that, she said that her dad died a few years ago.

I told her I was sorry and her response was something along the lines of, “Oh it’s no big.  We all had a huge boat party to celebrate when he died.  We were so drunk!  It was so crazy!”

When I gave her a look of horror, she went on to explain.  “Oh, my dad was a total asshole.  We hated him.  So we had a big party on my yacht to celebrate him dying.”

Because, you know, that’s what you do when someone dies.  Have a party on a yacht.

She went on to explain all the things that they did on her yacht, and how they all did their greek mythology worship, which to me made no sense.  A friend of mine who is extremely well versed in greek mythology laughed quite a bit when I told her Marjorie’s “religious beliefs” because Marjorie was totally and completely misinformed about what each god represented.  Also, it was increasingly difficult to follow her stories, they kept changing.  I’m sure if she told that story now, the party would have been on her own private cruise ship, because her sugar daddy owned Princess Cruises or something like that.

I don’t know, I just know that the stories seemed to never end.

What is the craziest thing you’ve heard people do when someone dies?  Did you enjoy the stories about Marjorie?  Let me know in the comments!

I Need An Adult

 

I was telling my mom this story the other day and she got a little upset with me.  I think mostly because I’m 24, almost 25, and I still need an adult to figure shit out for me, and legally I’m an adult.  She even said so.  Her exact words were, “Leah, you’re 24 years old, you are an adult, you need to start acting like one.”

No mom, I don’t get this adult stuff.  It’s hard.  Make me mac and cheese?  Please?

Comfort food at it's finest

Comfort food at it’s finest

But the story I was telling my mom… I don’t know if she was laughing because it was actually funny, or if she was shaking her head, trying to figure out how someone who shares half of her DNA could be such an airhead.  I’m pretty sure it’s a mix of both.

I was at the BX the other day looking for a thermos.  For those of you who are nonmilitary, a BX is basically the Military version of Walmart, where you don’t have to pay sales tax and most of the stuff is ridiculously cheap and all made in china.  I shop there to get a lot of bare necessities because the sales tax in Louisiana is around 9%.

Anyways, I thought that this product would be with the coffee mugs.  Or at least the stainless steel travel mugs.  After about ten minutes of me wandering up and down the aisles, I was getting frustrated.  I was going to bring hot chocolate to work since it’s been getting in the 30s at night and with the wind and humidity, I was feeling miserable.

After searching and searching, I found a really, really old man lost as well.  I went up to him and asked him if he knew where they’d be.  He said it was probably in the camping section.

This didn’t occur to me.  I thanked him and headed over to the outdoor section and kept looking around.  I found travel mugs and tents and that, but I was getting really frustrated.

I saw a sales associate helping someone and actively avoiding me, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I stood with my fists clenched on my sides, and I yelled at the top of my lungs, “I NEED AN ADULT!”

The sales lady slowly turned her head to look at me, confused.  The way I was acting, I think she was trying to figure out whether or not I was some punk kid or an adult.  I certainly look like I’m in my 20s, but I’ve looked like I’m in my 20s since I was 14 years old.

She walked over and asked what I needed.  I told her I needed a thermos to keep my hot chocolate warm at work.

She showed me where they were, I thanked her, and paid at the register.  Then I ran into the Troll and his girlfriend to discuss thanksgiving, where they will be joining us.  Because Alex and I never half ass food.

 

When has there been an instance where you needed an adult?  Do you have times where you just want your mom to cook you comfort food?  Are there times where you just want to curl up and eat ice cream?