Vampire Sex. Whaddup.


These are my thoughts tonight.

Yes, there is something wrong with me to answer your question when you are done reading this.


When I was young and dumber than I am now, I made the choice to read Twilight and let my silly little mind believe that they were well written books. I soon got over that phase, and decided it was all bull shit and dedicated the rest of my life to making fun of anyone who enjoyed it. But now I’m back in the vampire phase because of the television series The Vampire Diaries. Whoever is judging me right now can suck my dick because it’s amazing. It also reminded me of my solution I had to keep the vampires well fed in the Twilight series. 

Set up a used tampon box outside every public building in the town.

I’m pretty sure a lot more people in those places that roamed among the vampires would be alive right now if someone would have thought of it. 

This would also save a lot more vampires that got a stake through the heart. It’s a win-win situation. 


A loong time ago, my family and I were driving up our gravel road to our house. Our dog of 14 years, Ellie, had ran down the road to our neighbor’s house so she could run along beside us as we drove up the rest of the road. My little brother was being the usual charming creature he is decided to take this moment to scream out a message at our dog while hanging out the window as she ran beside us.


That was all fine and dandy, but the problem it was dark out and our dog was black so not very visible. So the moment Tucker decided to scream this loudly, we were driving right by our neighbors house where the guy who lived in the house was standing outside in his driveway watching us drive-by.

Mom yanked Tucker back into the vehicle, and we drove away quickly while hoping to God that our neighbor didn’t think Tucker considered him a “stupid butthole”. 

Dad had to go to the place where the guy worked the next day and explain the whole situation. Awkward turtle, fosho. 

That is my family. 


I have a new dream job. Lemmeexplain.

This summer I was watching the Miss America Pageant for some un-fucking-known reason, and I saw something that angered my greatly.

When the girls did their “special talents” which every single act consisted of singing some stupid song or dancing randomly in a skimpy outfit (I bet a lot of guys watching knew what other talents they had too, heh heh heh) . . . But on the T.V. screen, it would list random facts about the contestant performing. 

It genuinely pissed me off. 

These are some examples of the “random facts”:

“Miss Oklahoma drives a pick up”

“Miss Kentucky can speak French”

“Miss California is allergic to cats”

And then the one that pissed me off the most . . .

“Miss Iowa secretly wishes to swim with dolphins”

Da fuq bitch? I obviously have more damn personality in my pinky toe than she does in her entire tanned, perfect body. That is the most stupid “secret” I have ever heard. Everyone in the world wants to swim with dolphins. That shit does not make you unique and quirky. 

So right in that moment, I decided I wanted to be the person running the “random fact box”.

I would make up facts that people actually WANTED to read about them. 

For example:

“Miss Arizona is addicted to gay male porn”

“Miss Texas has sex with bums to make her rich dad mad”

“Miss Alaska murders seals with clubs”

“Miss Nebraska lost her virginity to her cousin” 


Bacon > People




And that’s what it does to me.


I know that every single person has one song that instantly transports them back to a certain memory.

Good or bad. 

You hear the song, and you’re instantly in that certain place reliving what memory it brought to mind.

I could probably name of a number of songs that I could put with certain memories . . . 

But there is one song in particular that I hear all the time, and no matter how many times I hear it on the radio, on the television, on my iPod, or as someones ringtone . . . I’m right there back with that person on that night. 

I Don’t Want This Night To End by the oh-so-good-looking Luke Bryan.

When I was 13, I got to experience my first kiss with a boy that you couldn’t forget if you tried. He had this odd way of always standing out in a crowd, but without meaning too. When you noticed him, it wasn’t like he was trying to get your attention. He was simply doing his own thing and not giving a damn what anyone thought. That’s what caught my attention. I wish I had the words to give a better description, but he’s pretty indescribable. Anyway, after a short fling he lost interest in my obnoxious junior high girl self, and we went our separate ways. 

We didn’t stay in contact, but I would see him around over the years. He could just walk into a room, and I’d smile as soon as I saw him. I didn’t even have to talk to him, it was just his presence that reminded me that it was okay to be myself. 

He was a few years older than me, and after he graduated high school. It was like he fell off the face of the earth. I had gone two years without seeing or hearing from him. I would occasionally wonder how he was doing, but never tried to get in contact with him.

And then this summer, I was in his hometown for a night, and ran into him while he was going into a bar and I was walking out . . . 

We ended up getting in touch after seeing each other, and made plans to hang out. We went to a movie with his cousin. I’d tell you what the movie was, but I was so damn nervous to be sitting next to him that I didn’t pay attention to much of it. Since everything went so well, we decided to make our next encounter an actual “date”. 

I was so excited the entire week before the date. I smiled all the time, listened to happy music, randomly danced around, and I was just on top of the world knowing I was going to get a chance with someone who made me believe in myself without even knowing it.

We decided we wanted to go see the midnight premiere of Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows: Part Two.  Since Harry Potter meant so much to me for so long, and this was what was going to end the whole saga, I had to do something cool. I made my mom get me an awesome Harry Potter shirt to show my respect to the greatest series ever, and to impress this boy. (Yes, I bought a Harry Potter shirt to impress a boy. That’s how we knew he was a good one for me.)

He walked out of his house wearing an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt, plaid shorts, knee-high socks, Converses, and a bandana around his heard. 

Seeing him automatically made my palms sweaty, and put the same weird grin on my face because I was reassured that he was still the same goofy guy that had given me my first kiss and changed my outlook on what other people thought of me. 

He got into the car, said hello, and looked at my shirt while laughing. His eyes flickered over to give an angry glance at my radio that was playing old school Mariah Carey. 

We drove in a slightly awkward silence to the movie, and then ended up getting there late enough that we missed out on good seats and ended up sitting in front of obnoxious pre-teen boys who failed to appreciate the importance of the movie that was closing a chapter of our childhood. The movie was everything I wanted it to be, and more. There was no way that movie could have been done better. Half way through the movie, I started to get emotional, and then he reached over to grab my hand. It was him understanding that right then was the perfect moment to do that made me realize that he already understood me better than I could begin to comprehend. 

After the movie ended, we both laughed at the people in the theatre who were baffled by how it ended, even though it was the exact same as the book. 

We got into the car, and talked about what we should do next. Since both of us were too shy to say that we wanted to spend more time together, I drove the 15 miles back to his place after getting pulled over for accidentally running a red light. That wasn’t embarrassing at all . . .

Since it was the midnight premiere, it was already 2:30 AM when we left the theatre . . and he had to work in the morning so the responsible decision would have been for me to drop him off and head home. 

When I got to his turn off to his house, we both glanced at each other, and just understood without even saying anything that I should just keep driving past it. 

The night consisted of nothing but driving around and talking about anything and everything.

It was the first time in so long that I could remember someone understanding me so well. I didn’t have to keep my weird thoughts contained so he wouldn’t think I was crazy. I could blurt out the first thing that popped into my mind, and he would respond with something just as strange that made me feel like I could trust him more than anyone in my life. 

I can’t remember every single thing we talked about, but I do remember that I kept glancing at the clock and wishing with everything in me that time would stop. Every single thing that had been bugging me had left my mind, and it was replaced with calm feeling that everything was going to be okay. 

Finally when 5:30 AM hit, we both knew that we had to go back and end the date.

We pulled into his drive-way, and we still kept talking until the clock hit 6:10. Finally, he ended the night with a good night (good morning) kiss, and went back into his house.

I remember sitting in my car watching him walk away, and knowing that something about this was different. I knew right then and there that something about this boy was going to change my life for the better. 


So back to the song, it doesn’t describe that night perfectly obviously. But it does explain the feeling of being with someone so wonderful all night, and hating that it eventually was going to have to come to an end.

I like to bitch about people


Everyone has hobbies. People like to scrap book, sew, cook, hunt, fish, collect finger nail clippings of past lovers…all the normal stuff.

A hobby that I personally hold very dear to my heart is complaining about bitches that PISS me off.

The positive people can try to argue with me and say this doesn’t qualify as a hobby. But they can suck it at this point because they have yet to live in Glendive, Montana where staring at the carpet for hours at a time trying to find patterns in it is a hobby.

Anyway, something that has been a pet peeve to me for a while is the way girls take compliments.

I don’t know how many times I’ve read/heard about situations where a guy went out of a way to tell a girl that she was pretty/beautiful/gorgeous to get the response:


Bitch please. If a guy is taking the time to give you a compliment, then I think you shouldn’t be a dumb ass and try to fish for more.

That’s right. I have a vagina. I know what you’re up too. Knock it off.

Guys like confidence. It’s a very attractive trait to possess.Even if you aren’t confident, for the love of God pretend. It’ll start to come naturally if you fake it for a while (Yes, that’s what she said). Guys aren’t going to want to compliment girls if they think it has to be an hour long debate on the fact that you are NOT ugly.

This bitch session goes with a story of how I learned this the hard way:

Back when I was a sophomore in high school…a friend told me she was putting herself down to get compliments from a guy. I don’t like to think anything through, so I thought to myself

“Oh hey, I want to be told I’m pretty. I’m going to try that next time a guy compliments me”

A few days later, a cute boy I’d been developing a crush on for a while was texting me. He was sweet enough to tell me he thought I looked very pretty that day.

I saw it was the perfect opportunity for an ego boost. I replied “OH NO I DIDN’T. MY HAIR WAS FRIZZY. I FELT FAT. SO YEAH…NOT WHAT YOU’D CALL PRETTY”.

He decided that was a good time to tell me “Yeaaah…guys like confidence.”

So then the epiphany that I was being a dumb ass hit me. It was time to try to reverse what I’d done.

My infamous text I’ll never forget sending said the following:

“Oh no! I didn’t mean I was ugly. I think I’m pretty too. I have so much confidence. It’s almost annoying how much confidence I have. I’m probably one of the most confident people ever. No worries about that.”

It’s been three years, and I have yet to get the reply to that text. I gave up hope about seven months ago.

So take it from me, when a guy is nice to you SAY THANK YOU and maybe add that you appreciate him telling you that. So it will maybe get around the fact that girls actually LIKE it when guys are respectful.


This is for you P.Wee


Let me tell you about my little brother….

-Tucker is a little guy for his age. He’s always been smaller than everyone, so he decided from the moment he could talk that he had to be at least three times louder than everyone so he’d be noticed. They put him in speech therapy, had doctors check his ears, and then just came to the conclusion he was a loud little bastard.

-Tucker is fuckin tough. He rides bulls, but he really showed what a bad ass he was playing high school football. It didn’t matter how hard a guy twice his size would hit him, he’d bounce up ready for more.

-Tucker does not give up. Ever. If he has his mind set on something, there is no way he is giving up until it’s done. It can be frustrating, but I admire the hell out of him for it. I hope he knows he’s making his obnoxious, over protective big sister proud.

I have a funny part to this blog post, but I’m going to get the mushy stuff out of the way first.

I would take a bullet for Tucker. I would knock anyone out who even thought about hurting him. Tucker and I have been through a lot together, and I know that if there is ever a time when we aren’t close, I won’t be the same. Hearing his laugh when he thinks something is genuinely funny can make me forget about anything that’s stressing me out. He’s a wonderful human being with a great heart. I’m so lucky to be able to call him my brother. 

When we were little tykes, Dad was attempting to work on equipment out on our ranch one summer day. Tucker and I were being nothing but a pain in the ass to him, so he decided to give us some walkie talkies to get us out of his hair.

You should have seen Tucker’s excitement. He was probably four years old with chubby little legs, blonde hair, and big blue eyes with glasses that magnified them so he looked surprised all the time. I wouldn’t admit it then even if I was bribed with the chance to meet NSYNC, but he was fucking adorable. He yelled in my face “TENZIE! THIS IS SO AWESOME!”. I was the biggest dick of a sister at that point in my life and found amusement in torturing him.

If he was watching TV, I’d steal the remote. If he was annoying me, I’d put on this gorilla mask and chase him all over while he screamed with genuine fear (that mask quickly disappeared after he refused to sleep in his own bed for two months after). I would tell him over and over again that Santa wasn’t real. I made up a crafty little ad to sell him on the internet and was figuring it out when Mom happened to look over my shoulder. He put up with a lot.

Anyway, Tucker was so excited to pretend we were spies and run all over the ranch communicating via walkie talkie. He was dancing around and squealing with joy. I went along with his plan, but I had something way different planned. We ran around for a little while till I was sure he wouldn’t catch onto what I was up too.

I said “Hey P.Wee, why don’t you go out as far as you can, and I’ll sit up on the hay bales and talk to you.”

Well of course he was like “OTAY TENZIE.” and waddled away from me as fast as he could. The poor little bastard suspected nothing.

I crawled up onto the bales and waited till he was far enough out that no one could come to his rescue.

I heard through my walkie talkie “TENZIE, THIS IS SO COOL. CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME?”

And I replied “Tucker…I don’t want to scare you…but there is a pack of coyotes running your way. They look hungry.”

It was like watching a little squealing pig with clothes trying to win the 400.

He was yelling as he ran “TEEENZIE HELP ME!”




My dad came up just in time to see Tucker moving his tiny legs as fast as he could while screaming like a banshee. He looked at Tucker, looked at me, looked at Tucker, and said “JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM THIS TIME?”

The walkie talkies were taken away, and I wasn’t too popular for a couple of days.

“i’m mac miller. who the f-ck are you?” -mac miller (not me…the rapper)


I’m a simple pers- …..meh. Fuck it. I’m the farthest thing in from “simple”. I’m a complicated cluster fuck who doesn’t know whether I’m coming or going 99% of the time. It takes a patient person to deal with my bull shit on a daily basis. I always laugh at the people who claim they “love” my personality after reading my Facebook posts or some bull shit like that. It’s a whole different story when you have to tolerate my mood swings and my inability to keep my mouth shut when I should every day. I become a hell of a lot less adorable and witty. For some unknown reason though, I’ve been blessed with people in my life who deal with me, forgive me, and love me through it all. You guys deserve some recognition. Thank you for not punching me in the throat when I’ve deserved it.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to function in society like a normal, sensible human being. And by sometimes, I mean 24 fuckin 7. Every day of my life it’s a challenge to keep my weird, random thoughts safely contained in my brain. When people ask me “Mac, why do you ALWAYS have your ear phones in?”  I usually say “CUZ I JUST LOVE BOPPING TO FUNKY BEATS. YA DIG PLAYA?” (I’ve never actually used this exact phrase…YET). But anyway, for all of you sitting on the edge of your seats wanting to know WHY I have my head phones in all the time, I use them to make everyones lives WAY, WAY, WAY less awkward. If I can block out the conversations going on around me, the chance of me blurting out something obscene, offensive, strange, random, or uncomfortable become significantly less.

For example: One day I was riding on the elevator in the dorms completely music free. I’d lost my head phones, and didn’t think people would appreciate me playing a song that has the chorus of “BITCHES AIN’T SHIT, BUT HOES AND TRICKS” for everyone to hear. So there I was staring at the ceiling hoping that the little girl from The Grudge didn’t crawl out when I noticed the elevator was being held up on the seventh floor by three pretty girls hollering “HURRY UP KEVIN”, “KEVIN. FOR REALZIES? HURRY UP”, “YOU SILLY GOOSE KEVKEV. MAKE YOUR FEETSIES WALK FASTER”. They held the door open and impatiently tapped their Ugg clad feet as they waited for this notorious fella “Kevin”. I crossed my fingers and prayed to the big guy upstairs that Kevin was going to be a Cee Lo Green look-a-like wearing a big fur coat, fuzzy hat, jewels, and of course a cane. (I WAS HOPING KEVIN WAS A PIMP AND THE THREE GIRLS WERE HIS WORKING LADIES IN CASE YOU DIDN’T UNDERSTAND THAT). I was holding my breath while my eyes shined with excitement when I heard the heavy foot steps. Instead of a lace up Gucci shoe appearing in my sight, it was a mud covered work boot. Kevin was a tall, awkward, fuzzy man child. 

Kevin looked like he didn’t give a damn that he was the reason an elevator full of girls were shrieking his name. Kevin looked like he was hungry, and probably a little sleepy. So instead of shutting the fuck up and tolerating the seven floors we had to ride down without saying anything . . . I blurted out


If I would have actually KNOWN these people, we would have had a good chuckle and merrily parted ways once we reached the main floor. But I guess the fact they didn’t have a clue who I was determined that the rest of the ride would take place in awkward silence till they were a distance away from me and could discuss how weird I was. Image

welcome to my life


Sometimes I wonder why I even dare to leave my house in the summer. Usually my embarrassing moments are a result of my severe hay fever.

I’ll explain why . . .

  • I look like I’m strutting my stuff with pink eye. That ruins everything.  How am I supposed to impress all the boys with a swollen eye that’s flushing out mucus every single time I blink? It’s not as hot as it sounds.
  • I’m constantly snorting the snot dripping out of my nostrils back in.
  • There have been times when I’m tempted to wear a “allergy fanny pack”, containing my special nasal spray, tissues, prescription eye drops, numerous pills, and cough drops (sneezing so much gives me a sore throat). Lock up your boyfriends, girls. Here I come.
  • I wheeze every time I inhale. Adorable.
  • Sneezing. . . when I’m in public, I have two options. I can hold in my snot, and pee a little (curse you weak bladder). Orrrr, I can hold in the pee . . . and blow snot every where. I always have to make a quick decision before the blow. Multitasking has never been my skill.
  • Snot runs down my throat if I’m not constantly blowing my nose.
  • My nose is constantly red from all the nose blowing
  • I’m constantly complaining in a stuffy, wheezy voice ABOUT my allergies.

But sadly, this hasn’t been the worst part of my summer.

A whole 4.7 seconds of my summer beats ALL of this on the “wow, that was fucking embarrassing” scale.

This is a story that will take some of your time, but I’m pretty sure you’ll agree it was worth the time once I reveal to you what an ass I made of myself.

PRCA Rodeos have sponsors just like every other sport. You know how all the other sports just simply hang up the sponsors signs on the side? Everyone gets the message, and they don’t waste anytime boring you with a presentation of each business sponsoring the event with a damn flag for each one.

But noooot PRCA rodeos. It has to be a big deal.

If you are honored to be picked to carry a flag (HA!), you have to make sure your practiced up so the asshole 14 year old girl doesn’t make a point to tell you how you’re fucking up the routine and that you’d be better off in the stands sitting on your ass staying out of the way. (…sigh…)

Anyway, this whole “hauling ass around an arena in front of a somewhat large crowd on a horse carrying a flag” has been something I’ve been forced to do for the last three years by several people in my life. I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve begged. I’ve faked injuries, sickness, doctor appointments, and have even tried to literally hide. Not once did I succeed.

So this year, I was actually busy enough and got to skip the first day of the two day rodeo.

Thinking I had gotten out of it all together, I showed before the rodeo the second day with no hat, no  boots, and most importantly no HORSE. It was literally impossible for me to join the “flag girl posse”. I put on my best “aw shucks, maybe next year” face. But inside I was doing a dance that consisted of me holding up my middle fingers high in the air, and spinning around while singing “AIN’T GEEETTTINGGG ME THIS YEARRRR!” (it’s really hilarious if you’re picturing it like I am).

Oh boy, was I wrong.

I was in for a shock when….alas!….they presented a perfectly tame horse by the name of Best Buy who happened to clear his schedule just so he could be my very own flag horse!

Picking up acting tips from Disney Channel sitcoms didn’t pay off in the situation.

As my smile literally turned upside down, and my eyes widened (I’m pretty sure they were flashing ‘FML’ in the center), it became obvious I wasn’t thrilled.

The man behind all the magic, John Smith (great guy, but he scares the living hell out of me), glared at me and said

“Get that stupid look off your face and get on the damn horse. If you work for me, there’s no screwing around”

I decided replying “DOES VOLUNTEERING FOR YOU MEAN I GET TO SCREW AROUND?” wasn’t the best thing to say.

So as I crawled atop the creature, I failed to notice the “I’m going to fuck up your life” gleam in his eye.

They had boots, a cowboy hat, and even a saddle for me. I was so grateful . . . .

I learned that Best Buy had never carried a flag before, but he was the tamest horse around the place. So there was nothing to be worried about. I actually wasn’t dreading it after cruising around on Best Buy for a while. He seemed like he was a nice guy who was just trying to do his best! A couple hours before the rodeo, we moseyed down to the arena to get to the “official” practice, and see if my borrowed steed would carry me around with a flag. I sat upon Best Buy, and braced myself for a blow up as the western clothing store flag was handed to me. Best Buy didn’t even flinch. We walked, trotted, and lopped around with the flag flapping behind us. We had no cares in the world. I dared to get a little bit excited!

The “flag posse” arrived for the official practice. I was told the routine, and stood in line with my horse to run into the arena when I was told.

Best Buy and I flew into the arena, and I guess Best Buy forgot to inform me he had a change of heart. Best Buy threw himself into a bucking rage before I could even get ahold of anything. He threw the flag and myself into the ground, and took off by himself.

I laid in the dirt feeling like the world’s biggest asshole when I turned my head to see my dad in the stands holding up his camera phone smiling and yelling, “MACKENZIE! I GOT A REALLY GOOD PICTURE! AHAHAHA!”

I was humiliated, but decided to give Best Buy a second chance. The horse decided he had been a jerk, and performed perfectly the next five times we did the routine with the other horses. I thought to myself, “It could have been worse! It could have been during the actual performance!” So I regained my confidence, put Best Buy in a stall, and went to find my sparkly shirt that matched all the other girls.

Two hours later . . .

The time has come, it’s time for Best Buy and I to put it all on the line, and perform in front of an energetic crowd flawlessly. I’m as confident as a woman warrior ready to wave my flag like a spear that’s used to stab through my enemies heart. My head is up high, and I’m ready to impress every single person in there. After two previous years of experience, I’m about to show the JS Rodeo Company that I’m the best damn flag girl they’ve ever HAD! Best Buy is playing the part of a war pony by snorting, and tossing his head around. The horse was even pawing the ground as to say “let’s….do…..this”.

We get lined up behind the four other flag girls, and it begins . . .

The first girl runs out, the second, the third, and as the fourth is making her way out . . .

I lean down and whisper in Best Buy’s hairy ear. . . “this is our chance to shine, my friend”

Everything seems to be slowed down to increase the intensity and epic-ness of the moment. The director of the flag girls is nodding her head at me, and mouthing “GO!”

Oh we go alright. I puff out my chest, put a smile on my face, get a good grip on my flag, and dig my heels into Best Buy’s sides. I had to resist letting out a war cry.

It was such a perfect moment. I knew the crowd was cheering, but all I could hear was my heart and Best Buy’s hooves pounding to the same beat.

As the wind hit my face, I noticed the flag seemed to be floating in slow motion behind us as we came around galloping around a corner.

I thought to myself “It’s like we’re fly-”

That thought was never finished, because I actually did fly . . . like a human fucking lawn dart.

The spiritual connection between Best Buy and I was quickly “disconnected” when the evil beast decided he didn’t need me along to finish our quest.

Best Buy didn’t exactly buck, it was worse. . . .

As I was thinking something special was going on, this horse was obviously thinking

“Well, it’s time for me to ditch the bitch”

Best Buy took a huge leap, planted his front feet, and ducked his head. I was thrown over his head, and face planted into the dirt a ways in front of him. Instead of laying there and pretending I was dead, I bounced up from ground spitting dirt. I somehow managed to smile as I got out of the arena once they caught Best Buy. I assured all the concerned people I was okay and pretended to laugh it off as I tried to shake the dirt out of my ears. I wasn’t going to be laughing once the pain in my ribs, butt, and pride hit me.

I walked out to the pick up, and decided I had every right to curl up in the back seat and bawl my eyes out.

I will leave the country next year if that’s what it takes to get out of carrying a flag.




i hate driving in cities.

i absolutely hate it. i don’t care if i’m driving a tiny geo metro with me being the only one on the road.

so when my dad got the bright idea to have me drive our gigantic dodge  in ….not denton….not lewistown.

but great falls. (dad was working at the MAGGIE so he said he didn’t have time to be my chauffeur. psh)

i’d say the time he decided to re-pierce my nose with a safety pin was a better idea than this one. (and keep in mind that ended with me running through the house screaming with a saftey pin hanging out of my nose)

sooo….despite my protests and fake tears, he sent me on my way to mcdonalds ALL ALONE.

i ended up getting to mcdonalds without crushing any small animals or smashing into any cars because i got the break and clutch pedal confused (not that i accidentally put a trailer hitch through the radiator of our geo because of this mistake or anything).

i started to get some confidence and actually felt kind of bad ass in the dodge.

i puffed my chest out, turned up my music, and turned into mcdonalds!

…………and then found out i’d pulled into a part where cars were only supposed to come OUT…..and the angry lady in her minivan let me know with her violent hand motions and eventually the middle finger.

so i panicked and was too terrified to back out into the street, so i drove around the mini-van super bitch, and was going to make a fast attempt at parking.

well kudos to the person with the giant ford pick up for ruining my LIFE. i attempted to park to next to the fellow giant, and ended up parking extremely crooked with my tailgate merely inches from him. so i decided to back up and try to straighten myself out. and realized all the honking was because i had blocked the drive-thru.

this is when my cool, calm attitude i had going on gave me the big fuck you! and left town.

i started bawling because obviously it was going to help in this situation, and stalled the pickup while trying to move out of the way of people who acted like i had kept them waiting for hours. it was only like two….three…..approximately eight minutes. it was a saturday morning…who the hell is in a hurry on a saturday morning? the crowd who gathered by the windows sure didn’t have anything going on as they all pointed at me while laughing. after backing up numerous times, crying, yelling at my dad, and punching the steering wheel. i ended up parked next (way too close for comfort) to the ford. i sat in the pickup and took some deep breaths before i got the balls to walk into mcdonalds.

i swear as soon as i walked in the place went SILENT and everyone looked down trying to hide their “what a fucking moron” smirks. but i kept on going straight to the bathroom and hid there until i was sure the owner of the ford was gone and couldn’t find me. (i wish i was kidding)