Friday, September 7, 2007

Do these pants make me look guilty?


I've been feeling really guilty about the following five things. I need your help to determine if I should feel bad about these things or if I am beating myself up over nothing.

1. My new friend keeps referring to my two oldest friends as "Cunty" and "Dum-Dum" on her blog. I have neither confronted my new friend about this nor told my old friends about this (because I kinda think it's funny).

2. I made out with the doorman of my Mommy's building last night after drinking with Cunty and Dum-Dum.

3. I borrowed Mother's leather pants to go out last night (she has never worn them but, for some reason, she won't let me borrow them). I spilled pickled egg juice on them but simply returned them to her closet without telling her (I'm telling you, she kinda smells like pickled eggs anyway and so she'll probably never notice).

4. I told the doorman I lost my hand in a dolphin training mishap (a lie).

5. Oliver's bitchy girlfriend called last night looking for him and I said he was with "Carol" at "the party" and, "Oh, he said you knew her and he was meeting you at the party." And, "He told me you guys broke up." And, "God, what an asshole! How could he do this to you?" And, "You should just show up at the party and get it over with." And I gave her a fakey address.

2 comments:

Manggy said...

Hmm... I can feel a little bad about
1. You can at least tell your friends, without judgement! Then let them deal. No need to confront anyone.
I wouldn't feel bad about
2. Everyone needs some lovin'!
4. Just a little thing.
I'm not sure how I feel about
5. I don't know the circumstances involved, so I feel ambivalent about it..
But as for #3? You should definitely give borrowed trousers a wash before returning them, pickled egg juice or no! :)

Good luck on your new prosthesis! I hope it's more than you've been expecting.

Anonymous said...

pickled egg juice reminds me of slamba's in dangerous buffalo, ny. one time we went there and all got arrested for pissing on the fence. don't tell mom and dad.
love,
R to the C