SHOWING SOME GUEST POST LOVE!!

Calling People Names is a blog I never forget to read.
The crazy chick who writes it is honest to a fault and hilarious to boot. I love how her posts seem as if it were a conversation she'd had in her head but accidently said aloud.

I have been trying to get her to guest post for awhile now, so without further ado...

Bad Timing's Bitch

This post is, of course, weeks over due. Deadlines have never been my strong suit...not with school, not with work, and certainly not in my personal life. I think it’s fair to say that time, in general, is a problem for me.

Oh, I know the basics. Don’t start gossiping around behind my back with the other bloggers, “She can’t tell time” or “I’ll bet she only reads digital clocks!”

Well fuck you guys! I don’t have to squint at the little lines on a digital. I have severely handicapped eyeballs, ok!

What I meant was...I’m one of those people that have the timing of a prisoner reaching for a bar of soap in the communal shower. It’s SO off it’s sometimes painful. Then again, there could be a happy ending...if you’re into that sort of thing. No judgment.

Bad Timing is like a man. My lifelong stalker man. (Other than Fisher Price. Keep up people, keep up.)

He made his first appearance when I was seven. Nick was my then boyfriend because we hit each other on the playground, and those are the rules.

Once I believed Nick and I were a sure thing, I decided to seal our union with a kiss. Unfortunately, he was very afraid of girl cooties. Ben told him they were transferred directly from the lips on a girl’s face and not her vagina like his older brother Gil tried to make him believe...because everyone knows that girl’s don’t have two sets of lips. (I picked on him about this mercilessly for the rest of his life.)

Ben pointed to a rash near his slobbery pie hole to prove his claim. I was quite upset, since I knew the real reason for his supposed cootie rash. It wasn’t the poor accused Tracy, but rather his habit of licking his lips and the surrounding area over and over again. My Aunt slapped him in the back of the head for it daily. Either way, Nick was having none of my Bonnie Bell shellacked goodness after that.

Being a resourceful kid, I made a plan.

After school we would all go to the cafeteria and wait our turn to get on the buses. There was a short flight of stairs between the main hall and the cafeteria entrance and we ran up them together everyday. I decided that I would plant one on him then. I figured he’d be less likely to see it coming since we’d be moving fast. (Yes, I used to RUN. “Used to” being the operative words.)

But Nick must have heard the talk around the playground, because he deftly avoided my puckered embrace three days in a row. Each time we ran up the steps and I made a dive for him, he danced out of the way and I was left with empty air.

On the fourth day I was determined to tackle him like an NFL pro. Eyes. On. The. Prize.

As I launched myself at him, I knew this was it. This time I would make contact. And I did....

With the wall.

I was SO close, but he moved just in time. I’d put so much force behind the attempted tackle that I flew past his retreating backpack and slammed face first into the wall.

There was blood, yes. And tears, yes. But I learned more from that experience than “let them come to you”.

I learned that Bad Timing can screw you in the asshole anytime he wants. And Bad Timing....really likes my asshole.

During the rest of my school years he showed up here and there:

Once in 6th grade he left a mysteriously colored wad of toilet paper on the girl’s bathroom floor for me to step in, and then gleefully pulled the fire alarm.

He showed up again in the 9th grade and brought my period with him...a week early. Bad Timing was no slouch. He knew that was every young girl’s worst nightmare.

But I’m thinking his most memorable school appearance was in 11th grade. He made me drink an entire Mt. Dew just so I’d have to ask for the bathroom pass. And find my Frinemy, Loren, with her bushy ponytail bobbing up and down between my boyfriend’s thighs in the “closed off” corner of the bathroom.

Of course with a performance like that he had to go out with a bang and have me suspended for three days, for hitting her in the back of the head with my World History book, when I was supposed to sing a solo in the chorus show. Suspension meant no singing which meant no public adoration...and I was pretty disappointed about that.

I did find out a few years later that Bad Timing felt pretty rotten about that one and redeemed his self by ensuring Loren was in the wrong place at the (say it with me!) wrong TIME...and contracted the gift that keeps on giving. Not hugs. Herpes. (That could be a button...)

But once I became an adult, he got a little tired of crowded room wedgies and bean burrito madness and moved on to the juicy stuff.

See, Bad Timing is a bit of a pervert. He was quite euphoric when I became involved with anyone in a sexual way. Not only that, but nudity of any kind seemed to trigger his attack mode.

Like...when the UPS man caught me streaking across the yard. Or when I called Tony by his brother’s name in bed....which was just a big misunderstanding really. Or when I was accosted in a very small shower by an extremely large naked stranger...and what came up was definitely BAD TIMING.

Our list of run-ins could go on and on. But there was one job, a little over four years ago, that Bad Timing failed at so miserably that he’s been redoubling his efforts ever since.

He thought he’d change my schedule at work, get me closer to the boss...then I’d get a bun in the oven and man! Wouldn’t that just be off?

But it wasn’t. It was just right...and so was she.

Only now, I afraid he’s taking his frustration out on The Kid.

Just the other day she said “Shitfaced” in front of The Grandmother’s church biddies...and I could see Bad Timing written ALL over that one.

Just goes to show you, everything comes full circle.

Now you'll have to excuse me. He's gone and turned me in for writing nasty things about him and now I'm being given a PILE of work to do...right before knocking off time. Sigh.

Over and out.

*A big thanks to the lovely and witty Politics Chick for letting me guest post on one of my favorite blogs. I hope she'll be returning the favor soon. (Hint, Hint...off your lazy bum!)