So, if I haven’t mentioned it yet– and I assure you I don’t know– I now live in a small Texas Panhandle town called Fritch. If you’ve never been, you weren’t missing much. However, notice I used the past tense right there. That’s because you’re missing a whole bunch of fun now. The party is here now!! There hasn’t been a week that’s gone by where I haven’t pulled some sort of harebrained scheme. And let me tell you something, even if you don’t join the party, watching it is fun enough. Of course, most of these stunts involve my new sidekick and partner in crime. (I’m not sure she’d like to be called the side kick but the stupider stuff has been all me.) I of course blame by restless energy and adrenaline needs on the fact that the Phatts are no longer whole. I am all alone over here. I made a blood oath (of sorts) that I would keep the crazy nights and awesome stunts going in the newly established Panhandle branch of the Phatts. With all this added pressure of being the outpost and heading the movement all by myself, I got a bit carried away. Perhaps. It has been great fun. I have many stories to tell you, and I am sure many more experiences of legitness will occur. But I shall please your palate with only a couple of stories right now. With graphics of course. =D
The most recent episode of phattiness happened just last night. I was going to post it immediately, but alas, my phone died. My cousin Shelby and I were chattin it up. We often do this, so it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. We were cracking up from the crazy insults we were throwing at each other when all of the sudden I noticed Shelby was staring somewhere over my shoulder behind the chair. I stop laughing immediately because all that should’ve been behind me was wall. I look at her, frightened out of my wits to turn around. She looks back at me, dead serious and says,
“Rosemary is behind you.”
To put it nicely, I flipped shizzzzz. I jump up–screaming even though it’s two in the morning. I do a sort of run-jump-hop that one tends to do when they get creeped. She starts laughing really hard and it dawns on me that she didn’t say Rosemary. Because that wouldn’t make any sense. I don’t know, nor have I ever heard of a Rosemary. I start laughing realizing she had said Bloody Mary (my worst nightmare). She looks at me and I tell her that I thought she had said Rosemary and still got scared anyways and I didn’t even know who Rosemary was. She then starts laughing so hard she can’t stand up, or in fact move at all. Then I start laughing so hard my nose sprays some great boogeys and then I start laughing harder. She eventually cools off enough to move to a different room, but I keep laughing harder and harder. Before you know it, I’m running to the bathroom to throw up…. Because I had laughed too hard. No worries, I don’t have a graphic to show you for that.
As funny as that was, this one is perhaps a better show of my stupidity and should prove once and for all I got us covered down here. This actually happened about a month or so ago. It was right before Easter weekend. It was a nice day out and Shelby and I decide to take Harlow for a little walk. Which turned into a long walk. Next thing you know, we both have to take craps and are about a mile from home. So we start heading back home, rather hurriedly. Now I don’t know what possessed me exactly to do this. I guess I was feeling rather harassed, and that tends to bring out the dumb adrenaline. We are nearly home, probably a quarter mile away. There are some telephone poles, splintery wooden telephone poles on the side of the road. And without any warning to anyone around (including myself really) I koala the pole.
Now I’m sure you are all wondering what koalaing is. Basically it’s when a person runs up to an object– living or otherwise– and jumps onto it and holds on for dear life. I had seen it on Ellen and decided to give it a try. Naturally, it didn’t work out like it did on TV. I ended up sliding down the pole and had splinters on the inside of my thighs and arms and in the palms of my hands. At first the adrenaline saved me the pain, but by the time my cousin and I had quit laughing, it was hurting pretty badly. I could barely walk from all the splinters. We finally made it home like ten minutes before I needed to leave for work. My cousin started to pull some of the splinters out, but we quickly realized that I needed professional help. The splinters started to fester and swell at a rapid rate, and we couldnt remove them with your basic needle and tweezers. After a hurried and confusing call in to work, we head off to the emergency clinic where they took a scalpel to the stupid things. Of course, the doctors thought it was good fun. I was given an antibiotic in case of infection and a whole bunch of bandages, not to mention all the smart remarks.
You see, you don’t even have to join in the fun to have a good time. I shall enclose a link to a koalaing video and some pictures of my injuries to further the joy in your little hearts.
Keep it phatty peeps. 😉