As and Gays

"just to be honest...i am gay."

This was the text I received after going back inside to sit and drink with my friends. I look up at the author of this text, who happened to be seated across from me.

"Did you just send me this?"

"What?"

"You texted me while I was outside?"

Then I hear a snicker from another friend in the room.

"I took his phone and wrote that ahahahaha!" he laughs.

"PROOF!" I shout as I plot to forward his text to everyone in my phone. I try to refrain from using cliches, mainly because my spell check doesn't put that little dash above the "e" and I'm a spelling Nazi, but this is an opportune time to state, Seemed like a good idea at the time. I'd like to follow that cliche with yet another: Blame it on the alcohol. Since I'm on a roll now, let's wrap this up with, Lemme buy you a drank. Okay, so that last one doesn't really have anything to do with this situation, nor is it a cliche. I'd just really like someone to buy me a drink. Honesty is the best policy. Alright, I'm stopping now. If at first you don't succeed...OKAY I'M DONE.

I go to the contacts in my phone and click "Select All." Unfortunately/fortunately, my phone allows only ten recipients at a time. The text forwarded to the first ten As in my phone. Immediately, I start getting responses. Immediately, I am confused.

A-Name #1 - Oh really now?

A-Name #2 - What...lol I met you once lol I haven't even called or texted u but with that being said that's a shame

I look up toward my friends.

"Wait, if I forward a text to someone, they see who wrote it initially, right?"

"No, it just says it's from you."

"YOU GUYS TELL ME THIS NOW?"

"Did you really send it?"

"Yes!"

"Well they're gonna think it's from you."

A-Name #3 - Who is this lol

A-Name #4 - Ya u r

A-Name #5 - Lol!!! That's why ur bf is so short?! Jkjk

A-Name #6 - Lol i am kind of gay too lol...pan really

I'm not really sure what "pan really" means, but I also wasn't sure who this person was, either. This is what I get for drunkenly agreeing to put people's numbers into my phone.

On a different note, I've never seen so many "lols" in my lifetime.

The texts keep coming, but were from the same seven A-Names from before. While this was stressful enough, what's even scarier is the three As who felt the need NOT to respond; for example, one of my co-workers who I barely know.

I take this time to send out another text to these ten victims, a text that said something along the lines of, "SOMEONE TOOK MY PHONE. DISREGARD THAT LAST TEXT."

This didn't really seem to help.

Another A-Name - Lol I mean you don't have to lie to me baby gurl I treat you gooooood ahahahaha jkjkjk

And Another - I doubt you even remember me

Well you're right about that.

Then Another - Lol have a good night

I can't tell if this person was convinced or not. 

The bright side to all of this was that my phone does NOT send mass texts to every contact in my phone. The downside is that there still remained one person who believed I was secretly gay.

A-Name #7 - No fuckin way...all this time

And I don't even know who this person is. But apparently they've known me "all this time."

Lemony Snicket's Wet Dream

Today, I ran out of gas.

Shitty, right? And it's only the beginning. Nothing bad ever happens to me. It's always multiple bad things that happen one after the other in an ironically orderly fashion. Whoever inflicts this chaos upon me is one organized mother fucker. I picture the stereotypical devil laughing maniacally in a sea of flames, except my devil does this in a three-piece suit as he sits behind a mahogany desk holding a ballpoint pen and an iPad.

So not only does my car run out of gas, but it also runs out in the middle of the road when I was mid-merge. So now, my car is taking up two lanes. Since one wasn't bad enough.

Then, it begins to rain. And not a light sprinkle, but a torrential downfall.

And then my phone beeps. "Low battery." This had already become the premise to one of Lemony Snicket's wet dreams.

I call my friend to come get me, and as I sit there waiting for her rescue, the first car pulls up.

"Are you okay?" the young couple asks me.

"Yeah, I'm sorry! I ran out of gas! I feel like such an IDIOT!"

One pity laugh later, and they have parked behind me and both gotten out.

"Put on your hazard lights," the man suggests.

I try. They turn on for two seconds, and then they break.

"They don't work!" I inform him.

"Let me see."

He sees. This doesn't make them work.

"Put your car in neutral and we'll push it to the side of the road."

I try. The stick is stuck.

"I can't! It's stuck in park!"

"Let me try."

He tries. He can't. It's still stuck.

"My friend should be here any minute to drive me to get gas. You guys can go. Thank you SO MUCH for your help though!"

They nod and leave. I am now soaked.

The second person to arrive was a shirtless man who came out of nowhere. He just ran up to my car, asked if I was okay, and then jogged off. How exactly was he planning to help me, anyway? The guy was running around half-naked in a storm. He was either a careless jogger or an amateur streaker. Either way, not to be trusted.

Some guy in a truck pulled up next. I couldn't understand a word he said, and after my sixth, "WHAT?" he drove off. By this point, I was getting sick of caring human beings. But I had thought too soon.

"I saw you when I drove past and I just had to turn around and check on you, dear!" some old lady said to me as she stood crouched outside of my car door. Oh yeah, my windows don't roll down, so every time someone pulled up to me, I had to open my car door. Have I mentioned it was pouring?

"Thank you, I'm fine. I just ran out of gas."

"Well I was just in church praying for God's mercy and thanking him for his glory so I had to make sure you were okay!"

What?

"The Lord has been with you today, my dear!"

Uh...no? No he has not? I ran out of gas in the middle of the fucking road. IN A STORM. If he's with me, then he must be drunk.

"Ooooooh!"

I didn't quite understand this noise she made, so I assumed she was speaking in tongues. I think it translated to, "come here," because this is when she grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my car and embraced me. Thanks for the hug, lady. Did the Lord give you any money to dish out, by chance?

Another person arrives to help, but by the time, my friend had showed up.

"Should we call the cops to direct traffic?" she suggests.

I call 911, and as I'm explaining my situation, my phone dies. We go to get gas, but after putting it in my car, my car won't start. We call triple A, and they inform me that I've used up my service calls for the year.

CAN IT GET ANY WORSE.

The towing guy arrives and after picking up my car, we head to my house. He asks me if I partied a little too hard last night. I say what? He says nevermind. Once we've reached our destination, I hand him my card to pay the thirty dollar towing fee. It gets declined.

YES. YES IT CAN GET WORSE.

So there I stand, in the pouring rain, watching the evil towing man kidnap poor Vincent (my Volvo) and drive away. I sulk into my home and call work to let them know I'll be walking there and I may be a little late. I hang up and wait for the rain to stop.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

It doesn't stop.

By the time I entered the restaurant that I work at, I was soaked. An hour later, after my hair had dried, I looked like a disco dancer from a 70s night club. Except John Travolta was nowhere to be found.

Natasha - gasoline = evil towing man. Natasha + evil towing man = no car. Natasha - car = walking to work. Walking to work + pouring rain = wet hair. Natasha + wet hair = afro. Afro = bullshit.

Lost and Found - Hours Later

I realize I've been writing a lot about drinking lately, but I'm 22 years old, and this is The Drinking Age. Unlike most, I rarely drank in high school, so I have a lot of lost years to make up for. With that being said...

I woke up this morning to find that I had lost all of my possessions. 

Missing Items

Bowling shoes

Normal shoes

Cigarette Pack #1

Cigarette Pack #2

Box of Mike and Ikes

Cell Phone

Keys

Debit Card

License

Shirt

Overalls

Memory

Sanity

Luckily, I had not lost a blanket, which served me well as I wrapped it around myself and went searching around my friends' apartment for my things. This occurred after one roommate walked upstairs and exclaimed, "How did you get in here?! When did you get in here?!"

I was not the only one who blacked out the night before. They say to always have a DD, but the main reason I need a sober person around when I drink is to be my memory for the night.

"Sober Person! I'm about to do something - remember it for me, please."

"Sober Person! I'm throwing my stuff everywhere - remember where it all is, please."

"Sober Person! I'm about to reveal my deepest secret - please do not remember it."

I stood up to descend to the first floor when I heard, "NATASHA! YOUR SHIRT IS DOWN HERE!"

"What! Why?! Are my overalls with it?"

"Nope."

"What! THAT MAKES NO SENSE."

"I don't know! I accidentally blacked out last night!"

"Well I accidentally blacked out last night!"

"I lost my glasses."

"I lost....everything."

I eventually found the back of my phone, in the middle of the living room on the floor, which wasn't that much of a relief since what I really wanted was TO NOT BE RANDOMLY NAKED AT MY FRIENDS' PLACE. 

"Natasha! I found your overalls!"

"What! Where?!"

"In the bathroom upstairs!"

"In the bathroom? ...Upstairs?"

This is a problem. I envision myself wasted, running from room to room, flailing around articles of clothing.

"I'll take off my shirt in here, and then my pants in here, and ooh! I completely forgot about the kitchen! I'll take off my shoes in there..."

And then, once I'm completely unclothed, I run to my backpack and start emptying its contents.

"Cell phone can go in the living room! Wait no - let me take it apart first - there. Okay, back of the cell phone can go in the living room, the rest of the cell phone can go in the bathroom! Then, I'll toss my license in there! Then, I'll throw my keys in someone's bedroom! Then..."

The list goes on. Like I said before, this is a problem. And it isn't the only one. 

But that's a different story.

Once I was clothed and had located seven of the eleven things lost, I left for class. This is when I started getting texts from an array of people.

Your Mike and Ikes are scattered all over the back of Dude's car.

Your debit card is in my wallet.

Your bowling shoes are in my backseat.

Your cigarettes are in my front seat.

Why did you miss your dentist appointment this morning.

I know we went a little hard for a Tuesday night, but it was my friend's birthday, which caused for celebration. At least I think we celebrated.

I really don't remember.