Home Town Suckery

 

This weekend one of my good friends NattieMoee (her blog is awesome, I encourage you to check it out) was visiting from Portland, Oregon.

Her family owns the bar in my hometown which hosts an annual Santa Baby party.

I decided to go.

So I dragged the BF home with me Saturday afternoon to bake cookies with MammaK beforehand and when the time came, I dressed up in my black leggings and red tank top with a gray sparkly vest….

Aaaaannnnnndddd 4 inch red-hot strappy heels.

Now there is something you have to understand about me.

I hate my hometown.

Absolutely hate it.

It’s population is 500 people give or take a few.

5 churches.

1 bar.

My graduating class size was 22.

Everyone knows everyone.

And I was the short quiet girl who read books instead of partied.

I was teased mercilessly.

Well I graduated.

Went to college.

And grew a set of balls.

I do not have time for these people anymore.

But I go back whenever NattieMoee is home.

By “go back” I mean I go to a place where I have a good chance of running into one of the skanky bitches from my class.

I go home to Mammak’s a lot.

That’s different.

That’s home.

So I wore my red heels.

I would have never have worn anything like that in high school.

It’s part of my style now.

Eat your heart out.

It was actually kind of entertaining going back.

People always have to stare at me for a few minutes before they realize who I am.

Then it starts.

“Delightful?! Geez look at you! I didn’t recognize you!”

I smile.

I nod.

Then I turn away.

Roll my eyes and mutter “bitch” under my breath.

I really don’t give a damn if they hear me or not either.

Now if I was a bitch this is how the scenario would go:

Bitchslutwhore: “Delightful?! Geez look at you! I didn’t recognize you!”

Me: “You’re a bitch.”

Stare for a few seconds.

Turn away.

Problem solved.

Really?

What makes you think that after three years of not seeing each other that it’s okay to pretend that we are best friends.

Nah ah.

Not gonna happen.

I’m still going to hate your guts.

I do not want to talk to your ugly ass.

So shut the fuck up and go bother some poor guy with a limp happy stick.

Because that’s the only type of guy who would ever pay you any attention anyway.

Now there is one girl in particular that I despise.

It takes a lot for me to actually hate someone.

And this girl is high on that list.

She slept with one of her parent’s friends for money.

She was the ring leader in high school.

She has no morals.

Tans way too much (hello leather face).

And thinks her shit doesn’t stink.

I think it’s her sense of entitlement that bothers me so damn much.

She really thinks that she walks on water because she’s been treated like a queen her entire life.

She’s got another thing coming from me.

No, I do not think your leathery face is “so beautiful I’d ‘F you right here”.

Or that your ass is the “best ass I’ve ever seen”

And as my dad says, “your probably so loose a broomstick handle would fall out”.

As gross and means as that is.

It’s true.

She was there.

Dressed as one of Santa’s elves.

As she walked by someone pulled the back of her dress up and exposed her ass in a black thong.

I threw up in my mouth a little.

I had a little daydream of me punching her in the face.

But that hurts.

And results in several broken fingers.

She’s not worth it.

So I will continue to harbor my intense dislike for her.

And happily ignore her existence whenever possible.

Now another thing that bothered me was the amount of creepy lecherous old men there.

Since when do old men own cell phones with picture-taking capabilities.

This is not ok.

They were taking pictures of the girls behind the bar.

In their short santa outfits and giggling.

Now if you have ever heard a guy giggle…

It’s disturbing.

Now picture an old wrinkly man leering and giggling.

It’s ok….

I’ll wait while you throw up.

Yeah….we didn’t last very long.

And this is why I avoid my hometown.

500 people.

Mostly idiots…

 

 

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About delightfulness

One sweet, quirky, delightful individual I am.
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12 Responses to Home Town Suckery

  1. FileSpnR says:

    I know the feeling. Just wait til its ten years and they track you down to try to get you to come to the reunion. You have to fight the urge to remind them, you “had” to be around them before.

  2. sparklebumps says:

    OK, are you describing Milaca? Because it certainly sounds like it. But I bet you looked hot in your strappy heels! 🙂

  3. Gillian Colbert says:

    I can’t say I relate to the hometown thing, I grew up in DC, population 600,000 and my graduating class was 250ish. But, I can relate to people who act like the bs in high school didn’t happen when they run into you again. I’ve yet to go to a reunion, doubt I will.

    I shut down my personal Facebook when everyone from high school wanted to “friend” me and all I could think was “you just want to see if I fell flat on my face, fuck you!”

    Anyway, loved the post.

    • Haha, I just got done going through my facebook and deleting “such friends.” Not worth my time. I’m not looking forward to these reunions! I’ll probably just grab the ones I do like and go out for drinks ourselves. =)

  4. mheretowrite says:

    Hmmm… Now, I dont think my hometown is as bad as i used to think.

  5. Eat your heart out… Revenge on heels is the best revenge.

  6. H.E. ELLIS says:

    I started out in Miami but ended up in New Hampshire, population 7000. I’ve been here 10 years and they still consider me an outsider.

    • That’s a bitch. I don’t understand that mentality either. People in the town where I live now know I wasn’t brought up here because I don’t “conform” to their ideals. 7,000 is a ton of people! You think they would get off their high horses and see what a lovely and wonderful person you are. =)

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