Bad Luck Billy

We all have that accident-prone friend. He's the one that gets hurt at the most asinine times in the damn weirdest places. Bad luck just follows him around and sometimes, if you're standing too close, some of that bad luck rubs off on you.

Our favorite bad luck buddy happens to be Bill. Bill happens to be Husband's best friend. Therefore we happen to have the (mis)fortune of witnessing Bill... in all his glory.

One of the most unfortunate situations ever could have very well been the opening night of the season for the Charleston Stingrays hockey team. Bill brought Rachel out (on what was considered their "first date") with us to go to the hockey game. You may or may not have gathered that Husband and I pretty much look for any excuse to get all wastey face and scream at strangers, so sporting events rank high on our fun-shit-to-do list. The four of us got seats in the "risers" which are just foldy chairs down close to the ice/giant wall o' Plexiglas made for your protection from flying hockey pucks. Or so we're made to believe...

Before we could even get to our close-to-the-action seats, we had to actually buy tickets for them. And ticket buying occurs inside a giant coliseum conveniently located 15 minutes from home. Key word: inside. Husband and I start run-walking to the beer line after we buy our tickets, but we notice that Bill is rather far behind us. And standing in a weird hunched/contorted "oww" stance. With Rachel grabbing him by the ear. WTF? I'm all like "Why is she grabbing his ear? What did he say? What did he do?! Did he try to grab her boob and she does that whole grab-by-the-ear thing like Grandma does when little kids have too much sass?!" (Note: my grandma does not ear-grab, but yours might, so you get the point.)

So Bill and Rachel finally meet us in the beer line (we have priorities, people) and we see that Bill's ear is scarlet red (and if you squint, you could see a little heart beat) and has a perfect little pin-prick on the outside edge. What the hell happened?

Bill got stung by a fucking bee. Inside INSIDE, not outside, a giant coliseum. In October.


Rachel wasn't scolding Bill for getting fresh. Oh no no. Rachel was PULLING THE STINGER out of Bill's ear. Inside the giant coliseum. INSIDE.

Only Bill.

So you'd presume that his bad luck for the evening would be over since you know, he got stung in the head by a fucking hornet. But no. Not Bill. Not with that kind of bad luck.

Remember how I mentioned that we had seats in the risers? And they're supposed to be all safe and shit because you're behind that giant wall of unbreakable glass stuff that is supposed to protect you from flying hockey pucks that come zooming at your face? Right. Well, that giant wall of unbreakable glass stuff can't protect you when the hockey puck somehow manages to come zooming OVER it (at WARP SPEED nonetheless) and nearly takes off your friend's face.

Bill seriously almost landed himself in the obituaries. Death by hockey puck. It came flying at like 4000 miles per hour straight toward him and zipped passed his head. It grazed the knee of the dude next to Bill. Bill was so totally thisclose to getting skull-pucked (bahaha, I crack myself up).

Someone give that kid a helmet. Jesus.


Today is my 2-year wedding anniversary!

Husband just had a dozen pink roses delivered to my office. He also just booked a romantic weekend getaway in Savannah, GA. We're going to stay at the Marshall House this coming weekend and be all cute and cuddly and sappy all over that city.



For those of you unfortunate enough to not know Brudder, you are totally missing out. Michael aka " Brudder" (brother, duh. Get with the program) is 4 years younger than me and insanely intelligent. Total gym rat, life of the party kinda guy, and most importantly, is wildly amusing.

The kid makes me laugh. Every single time I talk to him. Seriously. And I don't just mean face-t0-face talk, I mean even stupid little IMs on Facebook talk.

Sometimes he sends me stupid shit, like this, to take up space on my Facebook so I look popular...
And then our conversation goes like this:

Seestor: Ewww, WTF is THAT?
Brudder: A bat being tooth brushed. Obviously.
Seestor: Obviously.

And then for the hell of it I googled "quotes about bats" and found this:

Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made. (-John Berryman)

You're welcome.

Happy Friday, bitches.