Before I begin this story, I feel the need to tell you that my boyfriend discovered the Karaoke on demand function on our cable, and I just fucked up my throat over-singing Journey because I hadn't warmed up and I was like, "Sing from my diaphragm what?" I didn't have a mic or anything. I am an idiot.
Okay, so it was just after September 11, 2001. It was early in that November, in fact. My friend Kiki was in town. We were supposed to go to the fair that day, but she was like, "OK, let's just go with my mom and darling brother to Wal-Mart first." After three hours in Wal-Mart, I was like, "We're not going to the fair today, are we?"
Kiki's brother Nicholas was about seventeen at the time, and his mom was buying him some pants and buying some general home items, like Kleenex and lotion and stuff. Which for some reason takes like five hours with Kiki's family; I don't know why, but it does. I got bored and decided it would be a really great idea to humiliate Kiki's darling brother Nicholas, who really is the very picture of a shy, sweet guy.
So of course I ran after him holding up a tube of Boudreaux's Butt Paste and yelling, "NICHOLAS! DO YOU WANT SOME BOUDREAUX'S BUTT PASTE?! IT'S FOR DIAPER RASH, YOU KNOW. IT'S CALLED BOUDREAUX'S BUTT PASTE, NICHOLAS!"
My finest moment was holding up the (horribly Orientalist) "Arabian Dreams" costume from the "Secret Fantasies" lingerie area (no, really) and yelling out, "HEY, NICHOLAS! WHO WANTS TO FUCK A TERRORIST?"
I'm really glad Kiki's mom has known me long enough to just blow shit like that off.
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Okay, so it was just after September 11, 2001. It was early in that November, in fact. My friend Kiki was in town. We were supposed to go to the fair that day, but she was like, "OK, let's just go with my mom and darling brother to Wal-Mart first." After three hours in Wal-Mart, I was like, "We're not going to the fair today, are we?"
Kiki's brother Nicholas was about seventeen at the time, and his mom was buying him some pants and buying some general home items, like Kleenex and lotion and stuff. Which for some reason takes like five hours with Kiki's family; I don't know why, but it does. I got bored and decided it would be a really great idea to humiliate Kiki's darling brother Nicholas, who really is the very picture of a shy, sweet guy.
So of course I ran after him holding up a tube of Boudreaux's Butt Paste and yelling, "NICHOLAS! DO YOU WANT SOME BOUDREAUX'S BUTT PASTE?! IT'S FOR DIAPER RASH, YOU KNOW. IT'S CALLED BOUDREAUX'S BUTT PASTE, NICHOLAS!"
My finest moment was holding up the (horribly Orientalist) "Arabian Dreams" costume from the "Secret Fantasies" lingerie area (no, really) and yelling out, "HEY, NICHOLAS! WHO WANTS TO FUCK A TERRORIST?"
I'm really glad Kiki's mom has known me long enough to just blow shit like that off.