BlackMail

My mother has a video on her phone that she sent me. I do not get embarrassed easily. This past week one of my coworkers didn’t knock on the bathroom door and I fell off the toilet and onto my  hands and knees with my pants around my ankles trying to prevent her from coming in. Doesn’t shake me. 

But this video is from my cousin’s crazy awesome wedding. It was taken after I spent 45 minutes trying not to throw-up the 5 sparkling wines I threw back. My face was broken out in hives from wearing a dress made of what I can only assume now was cheesecloth and tulle. On top of the hives was a sheen (I think gel is more appropriate) of sweat, glistening with every light beam bouncing off it.  

I am screaming. I am jumping. I am ferociously vogueing (Paris is Burning, not Madonna) but with no purpose to my actions. My eyes are looking in two different directions. I’m slurring the words to “Love Shack” yet still maintaining a constant guttural sound like one I imagine Jane came to know in her days spent with Tarzan. 

Watching the video, I laughed so hard I peed my pajama capris. Tears pooled out of the corners of my eyes but I think that was more out of disappointment that I thought I was doing a GREAT job. Everyone was cheering and clapping. Yeah, Lo. No wonder everyone was clapping…there was a little monkey girl dancing for peanuts and one dollar bills! I like one dollar bills though. Keep thrown’ those. 

Somewhere inside, I think I secretly hope more videos and pictures come out to validate my existence of a truly absurd expression of human life. 

In other news, it’s Otis Redding’s birthday today. Watch this and be dreamy. 

Ok I love you ❤

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