Tag Archives: Television

Maybe If I’m High, Her Parents Will Like Me

Hello, dear readers! Today we are delighted to share our very first GUEST POST from our extremely funny friend Jason. Quick background: Jason lives in Texas and was recently fired from his customer service job for sharing with the world all the absurd things customers said to him. Also, this happened while his wife was pregnant. So he knows about what sucks. CHECK IT OUT:

Jason: When I was younger I was terrible at life, all of it, but I was especially bad at girls. Being good at girls meant being good at being yourself, you know, having confidence and stuff, and that just wasn’t something I was good at. Basically the only time I ended up with girls was through weird happenstance, like being the only two people still awake at a party, or some random girl would come up to me at my place of work and give me her number. But then I’d get drunk enough to call her and maybe we’d hang out once and I’d be an idiot and have no idea what to do and never call her again and pretend not to be home if she called me, because you know, it was awkward.

So that’s why it was very exciting for me when, at the age of 20, I met a super cute girl, developed a giant crush on her, then discovered that she miraculously fancied me too, and guess what? We actually ACTED on our mutual crush, you know, like most people do when they’re 15. This was huge for me though, because this wasn’t just some drunken party leftover or some girl with terrifyingly brazen aggressiveness, this was a girl that I had gotten to know and like (a lot) over the course of a couple of months. That’s why when it came time to meet her parents I found myself positively mortified.

Now is a good time to mention the fact that as a young man I was quite fond of drugs. Remember I mentioned how terrible I was at life? I liked to keep a constant stream of THC and Klonopins flowing through my veins at all times. It really helped to keep my anxiety level down. Sure I’d get lost driving to the store and forget what I was talking about half-way through a sentence, but I was cool and relaxed (often bordering on catatonic) and also got to watch the same movies over and over again without actually remembering any plot points, so who cares right?

So this wonderful young lass who was somehow nice enough to see through the doped up weirdo to the adorable stray-puppy beneath (this is how I like to view myself), we’ll call her Heather, went to college in my hometown, but this particular story must’ve been during Spring-Break or something because for whatever reason she was staying at her parent’s house about 45 minutes away. I obviously couldn’t deal with just not seeing her for a week, and she didn’t have a car, so we made plans for me to drive out to her parent’s house one evening to make-out and watch a movie. I’m pretty sure that she told me ahead of time that we wouldn’t be having sex because the walls in her house are paper-thin and sound travels. But whatever, I was willing to take this trip anyways because I really liked this girl.

I took the prerequisite amount of Klonopins (I don’t advise this) and brought along a couple of pre-rolled joints and started on my drive into the great unknown. This was pre-MapQuest and many years before we all decided it would be cool to allow all of our movements to be monitored via satellite, so I really had no idea where I was going. All I had were some rough directions that I had scribbled down that included a bunch of numbers and something about an industrial park. As I drove around for about three hours, contemplating what I was going to say to her parents, (the only thing I knew about her father was that he really enjoyed the film “Tombstone”, but who didn’t?) if I ever found their house, I enjoyed smoking all of my weed and probably a half pack of cigarettes.

Anyway, I did finally arrive at their house, several hours later than we had agreed upon, and was allowed in by Heather who tried her best to usher me into her room as discreetly as possible. I, of course, had no interest in discretion; with an abundance of weed and benzos flowing through me there was nothing I couldn’t handle. The first thing I had to do was use the bathroom, because I had been in the car forever and also because when I was high I had to pee a lot, and also would have trouble peeing. It was awful. After about five minutes in the bathroom I went into the living room where her father was sitting watching TV. There I am, a stranger in his home, several hours late, eyes barely open, REEKING of weed and cigarettes, probably drooling mildly, I’m sure he was very impressed by what great company his daughter was keeping. “Gladiator”, which had just come out on VHS, was playing on the television. This was my chance to really impress this guy, so that just incase things got serious with his daughter and I he would be certain to love me like a son.

“Wow, is that Gladiator?” I asked.
“Yes.” He curtly replied.
“Man, I haven’t liked a movie that much since TOMBSTONE!” I was so proud of myself, I had just managed to namedrop his favorite movie, I was like him, he and I were kindred spirits. Nothing could stop us now.

There was an awkward silence followed by, “Yeah, I love Tombstone.” His eyes never left the screen.
Then I stood there, awkwardly staring at him for a few moments as he watched Russell Crowe being more awesome than I could ever be and that was that. I went into the bathroom for another five minutes and then disappeared into his daughter’s room.

Over the course of the next two hours I probably used the bathroom another 300 times or so, it was certainly enough for Heather’s mother to question her about it the next day. Also, we watched the movie “Romeo is Bleeding” in which Juliet Lewis plays some sort of drugged out hooker and I told Heather that night that she reminded me of her.

I think it goes without saying that a serious relationship never developed between Heather and I, and I think it was shortly after this that she decided not to talk to me for two or three years, but somehow we’re now BFF and her parents thankfully have no idea who I am even though we’ve met a couple times since then.

Anyways, thanks Catherine and Jana for letting me play. I love what you two are doing and want you to know that you are not alone out there. I have ten million more stories should they be of any use to you.

THIS IS JASON (12 years ago. Ladies, please). Also, maybe a picture that would be included in the obituary of a rapper, if Jason were a rapper who had died young.

Catherine: Jason, you should’ve gotten in on the groundfloor of “Meet the Parents” because it sure does seem like you have some excellent experience for Ben Stiller type comedy. Did you happen to re-enact the opening scene from “There’s Something About Mary” as well? I wonder. What a mess.

Jana: My favorite part of this is that you told Heather that she reminded you of a drugged-out Juliet Lewis. I feel like if she’d responded well to that, everything might have been different.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Happy Birthday To Me: I Wasn’t Cool in Middle School

Catherine: It’s my birthday! Happy birthday to me, specifically. Before I get going, may I suggest liking our facebook page as a special birthday gift to yours truly? Or perhaps, if you wanted to get craycray, putting us in your status? Think about it.

In middle school, I was cast as the lead in “Guys in Dolls.” This may have been pre-type casting, because there was a scene where my character gets  drunk and sings weird shit like “if I were a salad, I KNOW I’d be splashing my dressing” and “boy, if I were a duck I’d quack!” I’ve probably said those things under the influence before.

Well, I thought getting the lead in the school musical would make me cool, because that’s what I wanted – you wanted it too, even if you won’t admit it. It uh, it didn’t make that wish come true.

I will forever remember this event:

It was tech day of our show, a weekend day, and it was my birthday. I had left the auditorium, and as I headed back, three popular boys who were doing lights or stage crew were hanging by the entrance. One of them, Greg (real name, I ain’t protectin’ his sorry ass), said, “Hey, it’s your bithday, right?” To which I was like, “Yeah!” (Inner dialogue: “Greg is talking to me – I’VE MADE IT!”) Greg then goes on to say, “Happy Birthday!” (Pause) “To a LOSER.”


THIS SHIT HAPPENS. And it RUINED my whole birthday, and I STILL think of that moment in my life with regret. I wasn’t cool enough to have a comeback. But I am going to take that chance now.

Here goes.

Me: “I’m a loser? I know you are… BUT WHAT AM I?” (Inner dialogue: “Nailed it!”)

Greg: “No, you are a loser. I am not a loser. You are, and I specified that.”

Me: “… oh.”

So. That is an amended version of what could have happened on that fateful day, as I walked into the auditorium fighting back tears.

Greg, wherever you are, I hope you aren’t still a total asshole. And also that you grew out the Mario Lopez haircut.

Jana: This story hurts my heart, especially because I can actually picture it, entirely. All I can say is that, had I been there, I’m sure I would have been crying for one reason or another (I QUITE often cried during weekend rehearsals for musicals), and maybe we both would have been sitting alone, you mentally repeating the Greg incident and me crying either because the love of my life didn’t love me back, or because I hadn’t gotten into college (both things that I openly cried about during Saturday rehearsals). Maybe we would have decided to sit in the hallway together and, each taking an earbud, listen to the “Dashboard Confessional” CD playing in my discman. Maybe it would have brought us comfort.

I retro-actively offer you that solace as my birthday gift. Welcome to 26! It’s mostly just as devastating as 16.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,