My first actual REAL post after returning from getting married and going on the honeymoon and whatnot, should, probably, be about the wedding and honeymoon and whatnot.
But it’s not. It’s about…The Situation.
(DRINK! That’s for my friends who play The Situation Drinking Game with me. Basically, anytime any of us say “situation” – either in context of Jersey Shore or not – you must drink.
Prepare to be hammered by the end of this post, if you’re playing along.)
By the way, honey, sorry this post isn’t about our Wedding of Awesome!
Let me start the story like this…
Since Sunday evening, I’ve been really sick. Not really sick. But my throat feels like it popped, and that there’s a little fire burning in one spot. My nose is stuffy. And my chest has broken out in some weird rash. My guess is that it’s either heat rash, or some sort of allergic reaction to the sunscreen I wore when my friends and I went to Day At The Docks.
Perhaps it is the bubonic plague. No idea. But this rash itches like a bitch. So that’s not the plague, right? The plague wouldn’t itch, I don’t think. And it would be all over my body, right? Not one localized spot. Damn, I’m a hypochondriac.
I have no time off from work left. All my Paid Time Off was used up on the wedding and honeymoon. So I power through and work, and then come home and collapse. Last night, I took a Benedryl and waited for it to kick in. I haven’t taken a Benedryl in a long time, but I know better than to take it during the day. I did that once. I spent an entire workday in a fog, and emerged like a new woman at 4pm.
So, I took a Benedryl at about 7pm, slathered myself in Cortizone cream and waited for it to work its magic.
(I took a Benedryl tonight, too, about a half hour ago. Let’s see what happens, teehee.)
Eventually I fell asleep. And I had a dream…
I may have been on a reality show, but I may not have. That isn’t 100% clear. But I was back on my college campus. However, the campus looked amazingly similar to Sandals Royal Bahamian (where we went on the honeymoon).
Next thing you know, The Situation is talking to me. And we’re chattin’ it up. Over the course of a few days/weeks, we start hanging out, you know, in the dorm/hotel room…JUST talking though. Then it like he’s HITTING ON ME. Being very flirty.
And then it stops.
And I’m UPSET. I’m all, WTF, Sitch? We were all BFF, and you seemed DTF, and now it just STOPS??
WHAT GIVES, SITCH????
So, The Situation’s all, “Oh, well you’re FAT, and I just wanted to know what it was like to fuck a fat chick. And then I just sorta changed my mind.”
And I’m all tearing up and giving him looks of utter disbelief. And I’m PISSED. I feel BETRAYED, you know, as if I honestly thought The Situation was a decent guy and interested in me for ME, blah blah blah.
So I say to him,
“YEAH? Well GET THIS: I’m THIRTY-FIVE! So not only were you going to fuck a FAT CHICK, you were gonna fuck an OLD CHICK!”
(Because even though he’s apparently 29, you know he’d think 35 was ANCIENT.)
And then he gives me the Grenade Whistle look of disbelief:
(For reference, see this clip on youtube)
And then the dream ends.
Guess I told him, huh?