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!

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I’m Out-Weirding Everyone

It’s no secret:  I’m bizarre.

Really bizarre.

I tell people this when they first meet me, and they usually say something like, “Oh my god, me too!  I like to play videogames when I’m home, I’m like, so weird!”

Then I hug them, pet their hair, and whisper in their ear, “Oh sweetie, you’re just a novice, let me tell you about the major leagues.”

My new job is full of people from everywhere.  We have pacific islanders, Caribbean islanders, one Midwesterner (me), a couple Floridians, a couple from Washington, and so on.  I think we only have one person actually from Louisiana, but he lived in Seattle and Hawaii for a number of years so he doesn’t really count.  One gal is from New Orleans, but Nawlins isn’t Louisiana, it’s just Nawlins.

While they are a little eccentric, I seem to always weird out everyone when I decide to open up and say something bizarre.  For instance, it was cold the other day, so I hugged my coworker to warm her up.  She said, “Oh my god Leah, It’s just so damn cold!”

So I replied, “Would licking help?”

Except two people.

Except two people.

Because, you know, if you lick someone, they jump around and scream from how grossed out they were. I thought that this was a generous offer, but her reaction was to jump away from me and hug my other coworker, exclaiming I was trying to lick her.

Another day, another coworker asked me if I could twerk.  So instead of saying yes, I begin to twerk.

And a lot of our clients saw.

And I did not care.

And the cake topper, one of my coworkers who seems to enjoy the eccentric that is I, she asked me to run around the building after we had closed, waiving my arms and screaming, while she did it as well so she could share it on snap chat.

And since she’s the size of my left foot*, in the video, you see her running fast and screaming while waiving her arms, and you see me, my belly bouncing, my ass clapping, while I’m going “AHAHAHAHAHHA!”

And I sent it to Alex, to which he told me he was proud.

So if you meet me in person and tell me, “Oh my god, I’m so weird, I get drunk and scream!”

I’m going to hold you, stroke your hair, and whisper in your ear, “Oh sweetie, you have no idea what weird is.”

I am going to blow your fucking mind

I am going to blow your fucking mind

If you hold me and tell that to me, I’m going to want proof.  Maurna may have me beat with her third nipple and her infatuation with her vagina, which didn’t weird me out, it made me want to go visit her to prove it.

Because, you know, I hate being shown up.

Do you think you’re weird or nerdy?  Prove it.  Tell me a really horribly awkward story that proves your weirdness.  

*My coworker is really short and very small in general.  Her head only reaches my shoulder and she’s a very sweet little thing.  I love working with her.  She’s great.

Strings In My Boobs: Tales of A Crazy Biatch

My friends in Alaska know who I’m talking about just by the title alone.  And I’m sure that they’re sitting at the edge of their seat, just dying to see how I tell the story of the crazy girl who I’m going to be calling Marjorie throughout this post.  Because it would be my luck that this crazy girl will go nuts when she sees that I’m writing a post about her.

I can only say this in one way.

Marjorie was crazy.

She seemed normal enough when she started working with us as a cashier.  I was a cook and I helped train her.  She had just gotten married to an Airman, this was her fourth marriage, third person she had been married to.  She was from a southern state that can grow peaches, and… Yeah, she was a character.  She had some wild stories, many of which happened her first month in Alaska, each story more crazy than the one before it.

Example #1: Boob strings

Have you ever heard of breast implants that are strings, and every six months you go to the doctor and they pull the strings, making your boobs perky like a 16 year olds?

No, I hadn’t heard of them either… Until I met Marjorie.

Marjorie suffered from the same thing that most women in their late twenties suffer from— saggy tits from not wearing the right kind of bras in their teen years.  It’s a thing, and hell, my boobs came in saggy, she just had slightly saggy boobs.

But the day after she told us about her boob strings, her tits were fabulous.  They were perkier than a 16 year olds tits.  They were in her face, and bouncy, and beautiful.

Tits like this, but with no bra, because boob strings are magical

Tits like this, but with no bra, because boob strings are magical

Almost as if she were wearing a Wonderbra.  We asked her this, and she said she wasn’t even wearing a bra, as she pushed her strap to the side to show us the lack of bra.  She told us that her first husband was afraid of her having saggy boobs, so he paid for her to have boob strings put in so every six months she can have the doctor pull the strings so her tits will be magically perky.

Because doesn’t everyone want the tits of a 16 year old?

Don’t worry, it gets even weirder.

Example #2: The Laundromat

A couple weeks after she started working with us, her eye was covered in black make up.  Well, she said it wasn’t make up, but it was too perfect of a black eye.

Trying to be concerned, my overly sarcastic, yet fabulously awesome newfie coworker feigned some fake concern and asked her, “Oh Marjorie, what happened to your eye?”

Just imagine more glitter and a little more circular

Just imagine more glitter and a little more circular

Marjorie then told us the heroic tale of how she went to the Laundromat and this guy, out of the blue, came up to her and punched her in the face, then ran off.  She called the police and everything but he was never caught because the cameras weren’t working during the two minutes of this guy punching her in the face, her crying out, and him running away.

Also, the Laundromat had  nobody there that afternoon.  Hmm…

Example #3: The imaginary child.

Now, how can someone pretend to have a child, and a four year old child to boot?  This just doesn’t happen. Right?

Wrong!  Marjorie definitely had a fake child.

She told us that she had a four year old child from her second of four marriages.  Now, there were a few (several) holes in her story about her child.

  1. She never told us her sons name.
  2. His age changed from four years old to five years old, then back to four.
  3. He was living with her only six months out of the year, then six months with his father
  4. Her apartment was far too nice for someone with children.

Now, before anyone gets mad at me for the last portion, allow me to explain.

When someone has kids in their house, you just know.  There are always a few telltale signs of children in a house.  For instance… pictures of said child.  Every house I’ve been to that has children, except for the Amish households I’ve been to, have pictures of their children on the walls.  Or on the fridge, or generally everywhere.  Also, nearly every parent has a picture of their child in their wallet because they’re proud of the piece of flesh they flung out of their fun parts.

Marjorie had no pictures of her child because “Oh, I just haven’t unpacked them,” when she told us moments before she was so happy to have finished ALL of her packing.

Also, four year olds love to draw pictures.  I’m pretty sure that every parent of a four year old has a picture on their fridge.  Marjorie didn’t though.

And a person who has a four year old does not usually have a perfectly clean house.  And considering how well she cleaned at work, there was no way that her house was as clean it was with a child present.

In addition to that… she didn’t have child proof furniture.  She had perfectly brand new leather furniture, which she said her four year old and her had been renting for a month, her TV stand was marble with sharp corners, no fingerprints.

THIS IS NOT A HOME WITH A CHILD IN IT!

THIS IS NOT A HOME WITH A CHILD IN IT!

Her house looked like a model show room and the furniture looked like nobody even sat in it.  If there had been a four year old, she wouldn’t have furniture that had sharp corners that would be eye level with the kiddie, the furniture would have scratches or had some sort of stains.  There were just so many things that seemed amiss in the entire situation.

There was just no way her son existed, there was no viable proof.  But I always had to give her credit, she stuck to those stories like they were life sustaining.

There are far more, crazier stories that I will divulge you in at a later date, but for now, you’ll just have to settle for boob strings and black eyes.

Ever met anyone with some crazy stories that you just knew were fake, but you listened anyway because the entertainment factor was just through the roof?  Tell me in the comments!

Spoiler: He Didn’t Donate Kitchen Wares

So I’ve been working as a donation attendant at a certain thrift store, which strangely enough, I freaking love. It’s a really nifty job because I get to sort through people’s stuff that they may or may not have wanted to donate.

And we get some really weird stuff. For realz.

I’m pretty sure this counts as weird

But there was one day that was particularly interesting to say the least.

I was in the donation area of the outside of the building, catching some sun. Enjoying the absolutely horrifically hot weather. When a guy drove up, his wife in the car, and he practically shoves this HUGE box into my arms.

“Thank you for your donation sir,” I said to him, muffled from behind the box.

“We just got out of the military and we don’t need our kitchenware anymore, so I figure you guys can use it,” he said, giving me a wolfish grin and walking back to his car, where his lovely wife was playing on her smartphone.

I thought nothing of this. Very normal. The box was a big plastic bin with the lid and it was marked “KITCHENWARE” so I figured that there was nothing fishy about it.

So I brought it to where we sort the donations and handed it off to a volunteer that was working that day. He took it, anxious for something to do, and I began to walk off when I heard him call out to me.

“Uh, Ms. Leah? I think you need to see this.”

I walk over and I realize that this man did not donate a box full of kitchenware.

He donated a box full of sex toys.

And I don’t mean a little box with two or three things. I mean, he donated a huge tote of sex toys.

And it had everything you could and could not imagine

Our box was way bigger than this

 

The box that was donated to us had costumes, whips, dildos, vibrators, different sexy games, lingerie… basically anything and everything you could imagine.

Me and the volunteer just stared at the box for a few minutes, unsure of what to do next.

Finally, I decide it would be a good idea to tell my manager.

While he was in the room with two very prude women.

Who were also managers.

As you can imagine, the results were hysterical. Too funny for words. To say the least, the entire situation was horribly awkward.

 

So to date, that is the best donation story I’ve got from working at a thrift store for six weeks.

That Time I Peed On Alex: A True Story

Now, I know you’re probably thinking I’m crazy.  And I’m not crazy, at least I think I’m not.  And I know I have posted a blog once about wetting the bed, but that time was an accident.

This particular time, it was on purpose.

Okay, to be fair, I didn’t think he’d notice.

You know what?  I’m just going to tell the story in its entirety and you can laugh all you want later.

It was my very first big military function.  The AMXS/MXS Christmas party.  A lot of different shops were there, there were tons of people, and we had been voluntold to go by several different people.  Luckily, we didn’t have to pay for our tickets.  Alex’s shop chief at that time got the tickets for us and we decided to go.

Earlier that evening, Alex and I were having a few friends over for a session of Dungeons and Dragons.  Well, actually, they were playing Pathfinder, which is basically Dungeons and Dragons.  Only a nerd will know the difference.

After his friends had left, we had two people who also had to go to this god forsaken military function.  I went and hopped in the shower, and Alex followed me in right after I hopped in, stating that it would be faster and save water if she showered together.

Since we usually shower together to save on water, I had no objections.

Except I really, really had to pee.

Seriously, I was about to piss myself.

And he wouldn’t hurry up and I still had to wash and condition my hair, so me getting out was out of the question.  I didn’t want to get water all over the floor to just get back in the shower, and I figured I would just pee in the shower once he got out.

But he was taking forever.

So I decided that it was either let my bladder explode or pee in the shower.

With Alex standing in front of the drain.

I had no choice, at least, I thought I had no choice.

So I peed.

And about ten seconds after I peed a tiny bit so my bladder wouldn’t explode, Alex decides to suddenly become a drama queen.

“DID YOU JUST PEE?!”

He screamed this so loudly, that everyone in our apartment complex could hear him.

I know that the two friends of ours in the living room heard his scream of terror.                                      

“I really had to go,” I said, feeling pretty embarrassed.  He shook his head and got out of the shower, to which I felt much more relief.

We went to the function which ended up being absolutely awful.  I learned that you never go to a function in jeans and you always wear make up, otherwise you are ignored.  I didn’t even have the luxury of alcohol because I was the designated driver.

After we get home, our two friends who rode with us are getting ready to leave and my good friend, who is actually at this new base with us, decides to speak up.

“Uh, I have a confession…”

My other friend who is no longer in the military steps forward too, and he begins laughing.  “We heard your conversation earlier.  The one in the shower.”

Apparently these two were at the verge of tears from how funny it was that I peed on Alex’s foot.

So I did what any adult would do.

I went into my room and cried into the pillow, swearing to never leave the house again.

Now whenever I drink with friends, I tell people this story because it’s ungodly hilarious.

 

Question time!  Have you ever peed on your spouse on purpose?  Ever done anything horribly embarrassing that seemed like a decent idea at the time? 

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Don’t Wear Sweatpants on Sundays

So this last Sunday, in preparation for the Super Bowl Commercials, Alex realized we were out of beer.  Football commercials just aren’t the same without beer, so I volunteered to go to the store.

Since I never leave my house, I have a very comfy pair of sweat pants that are light gray, bleach stained, and show any type of wetness on them.  Strike one.

I also hadn’t showered yet this day because if I was going to be eating queso dip and drinking beer all night, I figured I didn’t need to shower quite yet.  Strike two.

And I get into my car, where I had left the windows open and it rained, so I sat down on a very, VERY wet seat.  Strike three.

I get to the gas station and everyone is actively avoiding me.  I know I probably don’t smell that pretty, I’m wearing sweatpants where the rear end was wet, and I looked like total crap because I hadn’t brushed my crazy hair yet and I was dressed like a hobo.

Seriously I had no idea what was going on.  Everyone in the store was actively avoiding me.  I get to the counter and the guy there, who is usually really friendly, couldn’t ring me up fast enough, then basically shoved me out the door.

I understand that it’s a bad idea to leave your house wearing anything but your Sunday’s best on a Sunday, but I didn’t think I’d be totally shunned.

So when I get home, I tell the story to Alex.  He hugs me, then pushes me away. 

“Are you wearing deodorant?”

I shake my head.  “No, I forgot to put some on this morning.”

“I hate to tell you love, but you smell awful.”

My eyes widen.  “Wait a minute… does my butt look wet to you?”

I turn around, and he starts laughing.  “Did you sit down in a puddle of water?”

I start laughing too, of course.

I’m pretty sure that everyone at the gas station thought I had wet my pants and was buying beer. 

This is why I don’t leave my house.

The truth reigns supreme!

These are the trues and lies revealed from this blog post.  I suggest reading that so you’re not totally and completely confused.

So, which one was not true?

1.   When I was Ten years old, I puked on a real piece of the Titanic.

TRUE!

There was a titanic exhibit at the St Paul museum (at least I think it was there) and my dad knew the guy who was in charge of it and got us all tickets to go.  Since I was obsessed with the movie Titanic and had a bunch of different books about it, he decided it would be fun for us to go.

Of course, he picked the one time a year that I had the flu.  I told him that morning I probably shouldn’t go because my stomach was hurting.  He said walking would help it.  We get to the exhibit, and while I was having a blast, my stomach just hurt more and more.  And I told him I thought I was going to throw up.  Like a true parent, he ignored me.

When we got to see the real piece of the Titanic, they had to keep it in sea water so the rust wouldn’t get so bad that it would fall apart.  The second the smell of salt water came to my nose, the first time I had ever smelled salt water, I felt myself begin to salivate very heavily.  I tugged on my dad’s sleeve, who was explaining something to my brother, and I said “Dad, I’m going to puke.”  He shrugged me off and told me to tell him what exciting news I had later.

Three… Two… One… I threw up.  All over the floor.  And some got onto the real piece of the Titanic.  My father, who is the king of subtlety, yells at me, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE GOING TO PUKE?!”

And thus began the tale of how my father said that I got sea sick without ever having gone to an ocean.

2. I once met Willie Nelson at a charity concert and didn’t know it was him until a month later.

TRUE!

When I was either 13 or 14, I was in Sioux Falls for a mission trip with my church.  We were at the children’s hospital and they told us a very special guest was there to sing for the families, and we went.  And it was none other than Willie Nelson.  He looked familiar, he sounded familiar.  And even his name was nagging me.

A month after the fact, I heard one of the songs he sang at the children’s hospital on the radio to which I exclaimed, “Who is this guy?  I saw him live when I was in Sioux Falls.”

To which my father slammed the breaks (gravel back road in Minnesota, nobody was around to worry about slamming on breaks) and he yells “YOU MET WILLIE NELSON AND DIDN’T KNOW WHO IT WAS?!”

Apparently.

3.  When I was really mad at one of my old bosses, I purposely screwed up the inventory so my manager was required to take a two day class on how to properly do inventory.  She wasn’t allowed to turn me in because I wasn’t supposed to be doing it in the first place.

TRUE!

Let me defend myself, I was 19 years old and I was very spiteful.  This was a deli clerk job at Safeway, I had recently dropped out of college because my boss at Safeway told me that “35 hours a week is part time, and I was able to work full time and take 18 credits, so you can do the same.”

And I have a mild learning disability so no, I can’t do that.  She would also set me up for failure all the time.  One time, she bought me starbucks then turned me in to the manager for having a beverage in the deli.  Then she would lie to me, telling me that customers didn’t like me because I was heavy.  One time, she even bought me weight loss pills and encouraged me to take them so that customers and coworkers would like me more.  And she once tried to write me up for not wearing make up.  And I don’t wear make up because I’m highly allergic to most of it.  The stuff I’m not allergic to costs an arm and a leg to wear, so I wear make up only a few select times of the year.

She decided that I needed to start doing the inventory.  Safeway states that only a manager or assistant manager can do inventory, but since I’m a smart cookie, she decided to have me start doing it.  I didn’t mind, it looked great on a resume, but I got a second job at the local Air Force Base, so I was working two full time jobs and my availability changed.  So this particular Sunday, when I had come in at 4 AM, and closed at my other job at midnight the night before, she approached me and told me that I had to quit because I wasn’t dependable after getting that job.

I smiled and said that was fine and she stormed off, not expecting that reaction.  I wasn’t going to quit, she couldn’t even write me up for anything, but I decided to exact a little revenge.

So after I had counted all of the inventory, which was around 20 sheets of counting, I left one page in the printer.  You have to have all of it in order to properly file the inventory.  Safeway policy states that if the inventory is done incorrectly, you get a write up as well as a two day class on how to properly do inventory.  Since she had been making my life a living hell for several months, I figured I’d give it right back to her.

She had to take the class and got her ass chewed by several higher ups.  And she couldn’t turn me in because I technically wasn’t allowed to do inventory.  When she tried, they said, “Why would you have a deli clerk do inventory?  That’s against store policy!” and she was in even more trouble for letting the big stupid girl do inventory.

A month later, when I gave my coworker a ride home, she said “I can’t believe she yelled at you for that.”

I responded, “I know, right?  She was yelling at me as if I didn’t know.”

4.  I lost my first kiss when I was nearly 19 years old,

True!

I had only been on one date when I lived in Minnesota, and he was really, really awkward.  I shall put that on here someday.  Anyway, my best friend during my first year in Alaska was a guy who was from a rural village and was more awkward than me, and I had a huge crush on him.  After hanging out with him in his dorm, I confessed I had never been kissed so he kissed me.  And then later told me that we were just friends and we couldn’t do that anymore and he cared about me too much to risk losing me as a friend.  Which sucked at the time, because I was in love with him.

Worked out for the best though.  He’s in jail now for vehicular theft.  Because he was trying to impress a hot girl.

5.  I moved to Alaska when I was 18 and my mom told me I should go

False!

My mother fought me every step of the way for moving to Alaska.  She was convinced I was going to be eaten by a polar bear.  I have no common sense, I’m awkward, I’m very trusting, and I make stupid decisions all the time.  Nothing has changed either.

So when I told her I was going to Alaska, she fought me every step of the way.  Then took me to Alaska to look at the college to discourage me from moving to Alaska.  We even went in the dead of winter so I could see how horrible it was.

I loved it.

And I moved there.  And she told me I’d be back within six months because there was no way I could cut it.

Five years later I left Alaska against my will to move to Louisiana.  Alex told me if I got offered a job there making over 100k a year, he would move back to Alaska with me.  So when he’s out of the military, I might do that.  Because I love Alaska.  Everything about it.

6.  I’m related to my husband in at least two different ways

I know, gross, but true.

In my defense though, it’s very distant and we didn’t know until a few months after we were married.  I was talking to his grandma and I found out that her cousin married my Grandpa’s cousin.  And we have a couple common ancestors (notably from the Mayflower).  But most of my ancestors are from Germany and Norway and my family (except my Grandpa’s family) has been here only three generations.  Which works out.  Kind of.

So, any weird facts that you guys have to tell?  Do anything incredibly stupid that you look back at now and go UGH!?  I want to know!

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