lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Most Embarrassing Story To begin with, you must know this one fact: I have never punched anyone in my life before this weekend. But anyway. I spent the night at Boy's Friday night, and Saturday morning, I was playing Katamari Damacy on PlayStation 2, and having just gotten out of the shower, Boy was striding around his house in what I'm sure he perceived to be a most manly manner. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. And, without waiting the 11 nanoseconds it would have taken for either of us to say, "Um, hold on a sec," the person on the other side starts wiggling his or her key in the door. Now I look at Boy, thinking, Does his dad or mom have a key to this place? But he's looking back at me, like, What the fuck? So while I'm getting concerned, he's leaping behind the door, hiding his naked body from.... His ex-girlfriend. Who I knew had a key, which, according to him, was so she could get the rest of her shit out of his place while he wasn't there, but which, I'm sure if you asked her, was a sign that they were going to get back together. So, yeah, he was wrong for not getting that key back from her some time ago, preferably within the two-month time period during which he was dating neither of us, but that's beside the point right now (and by the by, they never lived together, she just had a bunch of her shit moved in). She ducks her ugly head in (and I'm not just being mean or bitchy here; girlfriend is 12 kinds of ugly), and says, in the bitchiest tone you can think of, "Get some clothes on. My parents are here." Like, hey, bitch, this is his damn house. Clearly she came looking for a fight, and was probably surprised to find me there. So she starts taking shit from the house, and I follow Boy into his bedroom, where we both make ourselves presentable. Thankfully, I was wearing clothes, because I do not enjoy my naked body enough to prance around in it. Hurrah for self-perception issues. So while he's struggling into clothes and I'm whipping a bra on, we're hiss-whispering at each other. "What is she doing here?" "She wasn't supposed to come until this afternoon, when we were gone!" "Were you planning on telling me?" (Audible gasping, while fishing for acceptable response) "I'm staying in here." "Good idea." So I stand by the window, listening to Boy trying to help her, and her sniping back. Fun shit. Then suddenly, there comes a knock on the bedroom door. I open it slowly. It's her. "Sorry," she says, actually, kind of nicely. "Can I get some stuff out of here?" "Sure," I say, wanting to avoid not just conflict, but contact with her altogether. Figuring I've been brought into whatever's either happening or going to, I move back into the living room, and fire up the Katamari Damacy. There is a 1-minute conversation between Boy and her, during which she smacks him in the face then wheels around and walks away. No, I'm serious. I'm not saying he is being especially nice to her at this point, but she's begging for it. And who does that, anyhow? I get the feeling she watches a lot of soap operas. So my hackles go up, and Boy has to talk me out of giving this girl the beat-down she has coming to her. I finally reason that, "She looks very big and rough. She could probably snap me like a twig." Because I, while not a skinny girl, am no fighter, and this girl gave off a "rabid dog" vibe. And did I mention she was ugly? Boy and I continued to sit on the couch, with him making fun of the game as he always does, pointing out "pen-ga-wins" and the like, and I'm laughing at him. Which of course, means I'm laughing at her. Which means she has to have "a talk" with Boy. Which she barks at him. At first he resists, then realizes he can probably get her out more quickly if he acquiesces. So they move into the second bedroom and I mute the game so I can hear what she says. Which is "...your little slut in there." Immediately my feet hit the floor, and as I throw the door open, I see Boy move back, not wanting to get in my way. Right away, she says, "I'm sorry," like, in an actual apologetic manner. But then she follows it up with, "but you are a slut. You're just another pussy to him, just like I was." I said, "At least he traded up," (like, seriously, do I think I'm Arnold Shwarzenegger with the quips?) and then, I swear to God, this is where I turn into the Incredible Hulk. I have no memory of hauling off and punching this girl in the jaw, yet Boy swears it happened, and apprently this girl has the bruises to prove it. I just remember tussling with her, her cuffing my ear and making it ring, and me getting off a few good scratches and slaps. According to Boy, the only reason she backed off is because I got in such a perfect first right hook. Then I said, "You get out of here. You get out of here right now, or I swear, I'll kill you." I do remember saying that. She got the rest of her shit, then, and Boy told her she had 10 minutes to get out of the house. She snotted that she had a key, to which he snotted that he had the cops. This might be my favorite line of the whole situation, "Oh, that's nice. Real nice." You've slapped him, gotten into a Judge Judy-worthy fight with his current girlfriend, and generally made an ass of yourself, but it's completely classless to suggest that The Law get involved. Yeah. She finally left, but not before a big, embarrassing soliloquy at the front door about how she never did anything to Boy except love him, blubber blubber blubber, and when he told her to give him the key, she threw it at him. Why spare the dramatics at that point, I suppose. My hand didn't hurt today, and no one I know can believe I actually did this. The most common response has been, "I didn't know you had it in you." Neither did I, and I'm glad it's out of me now. 10:51 PM - 07 November 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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