I will preface this by saying I hope to god no one from work reads my blog. If they do, well then I’m fucked (and I’d like to give a shout out to the BEST BOSS EVAR!).
So here’s the deal, a certain co-worker has a 10yr old daughter who is off track from school right now and is apparently staying home alone. Well said co-worker finds it necessary to call the kid LITERALLY EVERY 20 MINUTES to “check on her.”
The conversations are nearly always the same: “Hiiiii honey what are you doing?….Oh just playing your computer games on your brand new computer daddy and I just bought you? That’s cute. Hey I love youuuu. You’re my honey. Okay well have fun I’m taking a break but I’ll be right back and I’ll call you again. I looooooove you.”
Srsly. Just like that I’m not even exaggerating one bit. After that last one a few minutes ago I gagged uncontrollably mere seconds after hearing the phone being placed back to rest on its cradle. I don’t have children of my own but c’mon. Leave the kid alone she’s at home, not at war in Iraq. I’m sure she (and I) would appreciate a little less micro-managing via telephone.
Its almost time to register for the Spring semester and I’m stooooooked. I will probably have to end up enrolling in a couple of different schools in order to take a combination of the courses I want. One school offers a certain night class I want and another has one that I can take online so tonight I’m going to sit down and figure shit out. I don’t know why they have to making it so damn confusing I JUST WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL.
Ew I can’t believe I just uttered that phrase. Oh well, its true and I’m excited. I plan to start out with the basics like Design Fundamentals and Color Theory. Maybe throw in a Typography class. I just don’t want to take on too much at once. I want to be able to absorb everything slowly but surely. Weeeeeeeee!
A few weeks ago when I was over at my grandma’s for Thanksgiving, my little cousin informed me that her high school cheer squad would be competing at the convention center downtown which is very close to where I live. She asked if I would come and I thought, “what the hell why not” so I told her I’d be there.
Fast forward to today, the day of the competition. Not only did my cousin fail to mention the competition started at 8AM ON A SATURDAY MORNING but my happy ass decided it would be a wonderful idea to see how many different ways drinks could be mixed with vodka and consume them while out on the town with the girls last night. So its early, I’m hungover, and I’m about to be trapped in a room surrounded by a million screaming girls. Please kill me now. BUT I promised to go, and so I threw on a hoodie and sucked it up and met my other cousins (her sisters) at the Starbucks across from my apartment. A venti soy peppermint mocha and an asiago cheese bagel later and we’re en route to the competition.
Walking up to the place I’m giving myself a little pep talk in my head going “you’re already here, armed with caffeine and your family. How bad can it be? You might even have fun.” Yeah right says another voice in my head, which seems to be unusually louder attributed to the massive headache thanks to my hangover. As soon as we open the door I am assaulted by the overwhelming scent of hairspray and coffee. Nearly everyone else not wearing a cheerleading outfit is holding a cup of Starbucks. You see, the cheerleaders have their uniforms and so do the rest of us: TEAM STARBUCKS. I’ve never been to a cheer competition so I didn’t really know what to expect. The halls were teeming with tiny girls wearing even tinier skirts and parents and coaches fussing over them. These chicks srsly looked like peppy versions of Jon Benet and it was sort of freaking me out. I found myself feeling as if I were trapped in some real-life version of the movie Bring It On (minus the bad acting and Kirsten Dunst).
We finally made our way to the main room and into our seats. The large room was set up with rows of chairs on either side of a gigantic lit up purple stage. I felt like I was about to witness a Ricky Martin concert or something. Settling into my chair and waiting for the show to get started I began to partake in my favorite pastime: people watching. Scanning over the hordes of girls I came to the conclusion that in order to be a chearleader you needed:
- to posses an affinity for glitter, big hair and ornate hair-bows
- the ability to pull off what I coined as the “bobble cheer head” which involves pulling your mouth into a gaping “o” shape, lifting your eyebrows and jiggling your head from side to side. Extra points if you can pull this off while you’re in the air during a stunt
- money. because uniforms THAT colorful cannot come cheap.
The competition itself was pretty interesting and some of those girls (and boys!) are actually pretty talented. There’s no way you could pay me to do a reverse back spring tumble roll. I can barely do a fucking cartwheel. My cousin’s squad ended up getting 1st place in their division so that was pretty cool. What was not cool at all however, were the inconsiderate imbeciles who were consistently standing in front of the stage blocking the entire view. I (along with other disgruntled, rule-following spectators) repeatedly screamed CAN YOU PLEASE SIT DOWN until my voice was hoarse. Actually, after the umpteenth time it was more like IF YOU DONT MOVE YOUR FAT ASS OUT OF THE WAY I AM GOING TO STAB YOU. Moral of the story, don’t piss me off when I’m hungover at a cheer competition. It is no wonder why when I finally got home 4 excruciating hours later I took a vicodin to ease my even MORE pounding head and took a nap.
As I dozed off I thought about how my future daughter can take up chess club, future farmers of america, whatever I DON’T CARE as long as its not cheerleading. Unless she really REALLY wants to, in that case in which I’ll have to refill my vicodin prescription.
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