Malerie V

Professional bystander of others' awkward moments. Boxed wine connoisseur. Class clown of 2002 & 2006. Reigning champion of my family's Trivial Pursuit war. Here are my smörgåsbord of thoughts:

Month: September, 2014

Working At the Car Wash

I loved sleeping at my grandparents’ house when I was younger. We got to stay up late. We watched awesome movies. We built forts. We ate ice cream. It was stellar. When I was about four years old I remember one weekend we stayed over my Grandmom’s. It must have been late Spring or early Summer. We did everything in the book for the perfect sleepover. We didn’t have a bed time. We ordered pizza for dinner. We made sundaes. The new Ducktales movie was on, and my grandparents had HBO AND the Disney channel (we had neither). I was in little kid heaven. We sprawled our sleeping bags out in front of the TV & made awesome-kid camp.

The next morning I remember I was so excited because my Mom had packed my favorite new clothes: My Mickey & Minnie mouse jean overalls that we had just purchased. I was ecstatic to sport this new attire. I was gonna strut my stuff around Northeast Philly and show everyone who was boss in my Disney threads. Lookout, World, Val was in town, yo.

We ran some errands with my Grandmother. Nothing too major. At that age it was still cool to be with her and hang with your brothers & just be out of the house. We probably ran to the grocery store, pharmacy etc. Then, she dropped a bomb on us: How would you like to go through the car wash? Well, everything just got real for me. I’d never experienced something like this. We washed our cars in the driveway with a bucket of soap & the hose. What the hell was she talking about “go through” the car wash? I lost my words, my thoughts, I had no idea what could possibly be happening. She drove us to the local gas station and we began our journey…

Seating arrangements:
Grandmom:Driver
Frankie:Front Passenger
Keith:Back Driver’s Side
Valerie:Back Passenger’s Side
We begin….
The giant monsters from above came down and smashed the top of the car violently. Soap sprayed from every direction. Water engulfed the entire car. We were driving straight into the depths of hell. I screamed. I kicked. I knew it was the end for us. Grandmom had us in a suicide pact. I didn’t volunteer for this! The hot grease sprayed. Keith just stared at me silently and watched my struggle. Frankie and Grandmom seemed to be enjoying themselves. What the hell was this nonsense? I even heard her voice calmly say, “It’s okay, Val, we’re almost done.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO TALK ME DOWN RIGHT NOW? SERIOUSLY? IT’S NOT OKAY, GRANDMOM! DON’T YOU KNOW WE ARE ALL DYING IN THIS CAR! WE’RE GOING DOWN TOGETHER! I FEEL IT ON MY SKIN. I FEEL IT EVERYWHERE?! THIS IS WHAT THEY SAID WOULD HAPPEN IF WE TOOK JESUS’ NAME IN VAIN IN RELIGION CLASS AT SCHOOL. I TOTALLY REMEMBER THIS IS EXACTLY HOW THEY SAID I WOULD FEEL. WHY ISN’T EVERYONE SUFFERING THE WAY THAT I AM? WHY ISN’T EVERYONE PANICKING? IT’S SO DARK IN HERE. IT’S SO LOUD. I MUST SCREAM OVER THE MACHINE!!!! WHY IS KEITH JUST STARING AT ME? WHY IS NO ONE HELPING ME? I’M TRAPPED UNDER THIS TORTUROUS BELT LOCKING ME TO MY DEMISE! GRANDMOM HAS LOCKED ME INTO MY DEATH! I DIDN’T EVEN SAY GOODBYE TO MOMMY OR DADDY OR BLACKIE, OR FLUFFY. GOODBYE, SWEET SWEET WORLD. AT LEAST I’M GOING OUT IN STYLE IN THESE BOMBASS OVERALLS.”

I screamed for five. minutes. straight. I screamed my heart out. Till my little throat couldn’t take it anymore. I cried. I sobbed. I think my tonsils were on the verge of rupturing. Could no one hear me? Was I invisible? Why was everyone ignoring me? Was the car that important? I never want this again!!!

I saw light. We finally made it out the other side……..

My Grandmom turned around and then realized that my window had been open the entire time and I was covered in water, soap, & hot hot grease…..& Keith did nothing to try to help me close the manual window.

Flashback Blackout

So lately I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to figure out what some of my earliest memories are just for the hell of it. Luckily for you, I’ve racked my brain, & this is one that I’ve come up with:

I was four or five at the time, and my Mom was taking me out to lunch with my Aunt. I can’t specifically recall if it was Denny’s or Ground Round, but the kid’s menu most definitely came with a prize. Now I know what you’re thinking: One of these dinky-ass toys that you get from McDonald’s or Burger King. NO. It was a majestic piece of Carmen San Diego greatness. This was going to elevate my spy game to the next level. I was going to be so undercover, you wouldn’t even REALIZE I was a spy. Am I just some ordinary kid walking down the street doing normal ordinary kid shenanigans? NOPE! I am actually more badass than Harriet the Spy, sleuthin it up left & right. So what was this great piece of art disguised as a toy? It was a small camera. My god, guys I wish you could see the way it is so perfectly painted in my brain right this moment. It was yellow & black. It had a wristlet like telephone wire so you could wear it & never lose it. So you could bring it everywhere a great detective would need it, because secretly, it didn’t even take pictures, secretly, IT WAS BINOCULARS, and get this, your eyes were the real cameras. So deep. So poetic. Oh man, Ground Rounds understood my tiny Sherlockian soul.

The second this camera was placed in my hands I knew adventures were about to began. I knew my life was going places. I was about to embark on some journey of greatness. I understood my calling! I knew I couldn’t take my eyes off this camera because something great was about to happen. I analyzed every angle to it as I exited the restaurant. My Mom and my Aunt chirped away about things I knew were meaningless as I walked holding the key to my new career.. then…..then….. then……

then I walked into a parked car and, in turn, knocked myself unconscious because I was too busy staring at a freakin toy camera instead of paying attention to where I was walking. Thanks, Mom for being my lookout on that one (I know you’re laughing while reading this, it’s okay. I forgive you.)

Life Stories Out Loud: New Year’s Eve Edition

(this was taken from my tumblr. also please note that this bar was so run down & ratchet it has burnt down since then*)

 

I was unsure of what I wanted to do for New Years Eve & pretty much just winged it up to the last minute. My friend was having a few people over and planned to eventually walk to a local bar. I thought, “Why Not?” and headed over for some drinks. We play some games, drink some brews, & decide we’re ready to head out. “Hole in the Wall” can’t even explain the level of this bar. I once went in & there was a bird just standing on the bar chilling out.

So it’s full of it’s typical lowlife locals, which isn’t a problem I can go with the flow almost anywhere. Midnight passes. Hooray. Cool, it’s 2014. A man approaches me and asks if he can buy me a beer. Seeing as I never turn down free drinks, I agreed. Conversation is going pleasantly and he’s not too bad looking so I’m feelin alright. Until out of nowhere this 60+ something old woman approaches me (& the man) screaming wildly about things I cannot understand and flailing her limbs everywhere (along with her drink). I finally catch the gist of the freakout, turn to the man I was speaking with, & say, “Did you come here with someone?” He stares at me. I ask him again. He replies “We aren’t serious.” The old lady points out the woman he came with across the bar. I ask “Are you kidding? Is this really happening?” He replies, “I may have came here with her, but I’m going home with you.” Then the elderly woman proceeds to call me names that elderly women should not be using as if I set this whole thing up. 

This is why I’m single.

My 600lb Life?

So Saturday I was watching a marathon of the show “My 600 Pound Life” & every episode they’re like, “I don’t know how I got this way,” but they’re eating McDonald’s while saying this to the camera. & I’m like “No, I literally don’t know how I got this way because I get blacked out drunk & then I wake up & there’s an empty tub of hummus next to my bed.” Weird. So now I’m thinking I should have a show. 

Welcome to the (adult)hood

So I’ve been throwing the idea of starting a blog around for a while, and I guess it feels like it’s the perfect time as I’ve just moved, & now I’m a “real adult, & yadda yadda yadda. What this blog will be? God only knows. 

I’m winding down my 26th year on this fine planet. I’m living on my own for the first time ever. It’s daunting. It’s amazing. It’s excessively pantsless. Your own apartment means no pants neva. So I’ll write about my life and my awkward encounters. Like the time I stood in front of the window at the grocery store far too long because I thought it was an automatic door only to realize it wasn’t moving. I cut the trip short and didn’t even buy any groceries that day.

It’ll explore my inability to socialize normally with the opposite sex. My love life, or lack there of. The countless rants that I have to sit through from my Mother and the similes people like to use to try make you feel better about why you’re single. Why is love always like an animal? There are more fish in the sea. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. All men are dogs. Well I think I’m just looking for a decent human being that isn’t an animal. Last time I checked beastiality isn’t my thing; maybe that’s my problem? I digress. Apparently, my love life is a huge source of humor for most, & I should probably start recording it because it typically doesn’t pan out the way it should. So come along for the ride, because I tend to get screwed over often, & find myself in uncomfortable situations, horrendous blind dates, and unavoidably cringe-worthy conversations. 

What else will be here? My over-ability to consume wine & whiskey. I’ll probably talk about my dog. I’ll probably talk about my dog far too much. The way that I put my dog’s name into song lyrics because I know she understands what I’m doing and one day when we’re chilling in lounge chairs in Heaven she’ll be all like “Hey, remember that time you sang “I wanna dance with somebody” to me? That was a good day.” and I’ll be all like “Yes. Yes, I do Indiana Jones. I’m glad you liked it” & then we’ll continue to drink our margaritas by the pool. While Ella Fitzgerald sings to us. because that’s what my Heaven is.

So if you’re looking forward to hearing stories about stuff like that then I guess you’re in luck. Today’s the start of something new. If you have any suggestions about something you want me to write about let me know. My email address is MalerieV13@gmail.com