one of | the guys


Last week, Daniel saved me from myself. Again. He invited me to go with him and Vinny to West Palm Beach (formerly known as westfuckingpalmbeach) to visit Nicky. The reason he invited me was because I caught him talking about it on facebook and threatened to slice my wrists if he didn’t invite me. When he asked if I wanted to go, I said no because I don’t accept pity invites. And then I bought my plane ticket.

Upon arrival, all boys were briefed on my status by Daniel. “She is one of the guys. She is really cool. Yeah, joke about whatever all you want. She is one of the guys. I promise.” This was an ideal situation as I was living in a house with 3 males and no longer feared I might get gang raped in the midst of the night. No one wants to be that dude who rapes one of the guys, you know? It would just make for a very uncomfortable situation for all parties involved and defeat the purpose of a vacation. I remain a virgin.

One of the great things about being “one of the guys” is that I started developing their habits. For instance, my days started to revolve around food and I started thinking about nothing. When I was looking up at the sky, I wasn’t thinking about my life – nope. I was thinking about the clouds and how long it would take before they stopped blocking my friend, the sun. When I stared out the window, I wasn’t thinking about the responsibilities that awaited me at home. I thought about the goats I saw running around in the backyard and attempted to calculate how long my ankles would last if I chased them. And even when my mom called me to tell me that I had filed my taxes incorrectly and would probably go to jail, I didn’t think about how I wouldn’t deal with it at home. I just thought about how I wasn’t going to call her anymore while I was away. Simple. No drama. Like one of the guys.

But of course I am not really a guy and so I learned a lot too. For instance, shaking isn’t good enough and toilet paper is required when peeing (especially when wearing tan pants). This is because sometimes the pee is a girl and tricks them into believing they are in the clear. The walk away and all of a sudden they are peeing on themselves. I learned that when this happens, they must march back to the bathroom, wash their hands and smear non-pee wetness on the wet spot. It is obviously better to be a demented retard that can’t wash his hands than one who pees on himself. It makes sense.

I was told to “stop being difficult” only once. It was when I had just woken up after napping in the car (drunken mess I was) and realized that I was a) hungry, b) thirsty and c) annoyed that I was hungry and thirsty. And so I walked into the kitchen, threw something and demanded to know why I wasn’t fed and why there was nothing to drink and what the fuck kind of vacation is this?! After Vinny told me to stop being difficult, he made me food and I stopped being difficult.

I had a great time and I love my boys (myself not included). But mostly because they actually treat me like a girl. And by that I mean a princess.

And in case you’re wondering – Nicky is doing fabulous.

A big thanks to Daniel, Vinny, Nicky, Joe and Julie.



Filed under mi | vida

4 responses to “one of | the guys

  1. Frank

    Maybe if the guys weren’t debriefed, they wouldn’t have messed up their tan pants.

  2. I almost wrote about the “wet spot” issue the other day. So you suggest we just leave it alone and, if anyone asks, fess up? I don’t think I am man enough.

  3. nah. i think you should def wet it with water. but if i ever see this in person, i wouldnt ask what happened. I would simply say “so you peed on yourself again, eh?” sometimes i like to be canadian.

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