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“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special: you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” ~Pulp Fiction

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Ashley Rae Berken: The Grenade

As I may have noted earlier in my blog, I have a bit of a temper. I have never been in a physical altercation, but, this may be because my blood boils so quickly that no one really wants to go toe-to-toe with this lunatic. But today, my pride suffered a blow thanks to my hair-trigger attitude.

I was shopping with a friend at Best Buy this afternoon. After picking out a delicious scary movie for All Hallow's Eve, we headed back to the car. As we are getting in, Cassandra notices something in the minivan ahead of us and moans. I look and notice two teens playing one vicious game of tonsil hockey in the front seat. I mean, this girl's esophagus got a thorough once-over by that pubescent boy. Instantly, I said "Holy disgusting!" After the words leave my mouth, I notice the girl's window is open and the two awkwardly compose themselves. Attempting to wipe the horniness off their faces.

As they back out of their spot, the boy stares vehemently at me. I mean, death glare. He backs the minivan up and stops, but continues to stare at me. The awkwardness builds for probably 10 seconds of this showdown before I reach up and flip the little cocky brat off. I hold my hand up like it's a Colt 45 and he flinches a little bit. He slips the van into drive but as he's rolling by, he ferociously waves his arms in front of him. At first, I thought he was mimicking my large chest, but judging by the bulging vein in his forehead, I gathered he was mocking my weight, not complimenting my rack. He then followed up with screaming, "Grenade! Grenade! GRENADE!" Which is a nice salutation to MTV's Jersey Shore meaning I'm not exactly the cutest pickle in the jar. Cassandra says she's convinced he said "Look away," but I don't agree.

The rest of today, I have been licking my wounds. I almost feel like I have time traveled back to fourth grade where I fell victim to bullying as the chubby ten-year old in not-so-flatting stirrup stretch pants and over-sized sweaters. Oh well, you win some, you lose some. At least I cock-blocked the little fucker.

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