So in preparation for meeting Adam West (and Wil Wheaton) I’ve been making lists of lists and itemized schedules and I am stuck on one big thing… What the heck do I wear to meet THE Batman? One of my friends keeps sugesting a top hat, but I really think the event organizers will kick me out for not covering up the rest of me… Y’know, after everyone takes pictures and puts them on the internet forever.
Apparently there is a costume party and I thought, oh, that’s pretty cool and then I looked at it and it was all like “ALL walk-on performances will have music. If you are performing a skit, please consider pre-recording your skit to make sure you don’t go over time limits”
Um…..wow. Count me out of that. Unless, is there a catagory for “Dressed like a normal person and is here for the free cookies?” Or possibly, if some people have their way “Naked and wearing a top hat, please provide with a blanket and some spiked punch thank-you-very-much.”
You you ever find yourself randomly telling stories about terrible and highly embarrassing things that have happened to you to complete strangers and then you realise that is how every single one of your friendships has started? I’m fairly certain that all the people I know met me through some regalement of the time I found my moms douche bag or when a deer lovingly named Gimpy started stalking me.
Yeah. You know you want to be my friend because at some point a deer had watched me get naked. And then tried to kill me. Twice.
It’s probably not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, he could have just been fascinated by shiny. Right? RIGHT?
For a while Matt and I lived in the ground level suite at my parents while we saved up enough to buy a house. It was newly built and I’m pretty sure that all the deer around were very confused by the fact that only a couple months ago this was all forest. God knows I would be.
So we had deer in our yard pretty regularily. And It’s not really like you can easily tell one deer from the other. I mean, it could have been fifty different deer or five of the same deer over and over again. Except for one, Gimpy. I dont know if he was hit by a car at some point or what, but he walked with this crazy limp and ran sideways… Shut up, we’re imaginitive.
What are you cooking? Can I have some?
He started getting more and more bold as time went on and graduated from chewing the lawn, to the garden, to my window boxes, glaring in at me while he ate all my pretty flowers, watching me do people stuff… sometimes I would look up and there he would be, face pressed against the glass, watching me cook super.
That’s when I started to think he was stalking me. But you know, deer will be deer. That’s the right saying, right?
One summer night, I walked around to the backyard to set up a telescope. Someone had just shown me how to see Jupiters moons on a big telescope and I was pretty excited to try and find them at home.
So, it’s dark, I’ve got my head down as I head around the corner of the house trying to jugle all the telescope parts when…
I walk right SMACK into the side of Gimpy.
Now, I go flying ass over tea kettle one way, the telescope flys apart in another and the damned deer sceams out of the yard like nobodies business.
At this point, I’m lying on the damp grass with a wet ass and bruised dignity, the telescope has gone who knows where in the dark backyard so I run over to my parents backdoor and try to get in, lest the super meanie bo beanie of a deer come back to finish the job.
Except for the part where it must have been awfully late and my mom was sitting on the couch by the door in her PJ’s, all ready for bed.
And she thought I was a burgler.
She starts SCREAMING, running around, hollering at my Dad, while I keep banging on the locked door, “LET ME IN, LET ME IN!!! THE DEER IS TRYING TO KILL ME!” and my Dad comes running out of bed with the bedside table lamp, ready to brain the person breaking in to the house in the middle of the night.
Which happened to be me. When they finally turned on the porchlight and realized it was me (and there was no need to call 911) they didn’t even beleive that a deer would be dumb enough to let me walk into it. Strangely, nobody questioned me walking into a deer.
I didn’t see Gimpy for a long time after that. I think maybe he was trying to keep a low profile. Telling all his forest friends how this crazed human came out of nowhere and attacked him when he was just trying to get a midnight snack.
Then my birthday rolls around. Don’t always the worst things happen on your birthday?
We went out to the really good comedy club, had a nice night and I got pretty drunk. You know the beligerent kind of drunk where you think you know the answer to everything? Yeah. That was me.
We get home and for some reason I excepted my husband to come around and help me out of the car. It could have been the fact that I was three sheets to the wind, or the fact that I was wearing thigh high stilletos. Instead he nimbly hopped out of the car and let himself in the house, leaving me, in my drunk mind, stranded.
Being at the antagonistic stage of quite drunk, I decided that if he wasn’t going to come help me inside the I wasn’t going inside. I was going to go off and do my own thing, that will show him!
So I clambered, as best one can in my state, off into the backyard (I’m beginning to see a theme) and decided to lie down and watch for shooting stars.
After who knows how long I heard a weird sort of.. snuffling noise on my head. Something starts tugging at my hair and I can see a massive wierd shape by me. I shoot up like an uncoordinated bag of sticks and yep, that’s right. Gimpy is trying to eat my head.
To be fair to him, I’m pretty sure he thought I was dead, because he was just as surprised as I was. His reaction though, instead of running away, was to rear up, scream and then canter around me in a circle like the most terrifying devil possessed creature in existance. So then I screamed. And then he screamed and ran some more. It was like a whole neverending chain reaction of screaming and running and everybody poops thier pants. Except neither of us were wearing pants.
And then Matt poked his head outside, yelled at me to shut up and slammed to door, which scared Gimpy away and saved me. I think that might have been my birthday present form him.
Matt never beleived me about the attack. But it happened Matt. It happened
Tags: he's going to kill me
, i am not a crazy person
, i should be dead
, it's a trap
, klutzy klutzerson
, nobody should talk to me