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The Worst Day in Recorded History, Ever

Tasha Tells All

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The Worst Day in Recorded History, Ever

June 26th, 2007 · 50 Comments

I’d had an extraordinarily bad day.  1st the bird bit me so I killed him and had a cockatiel barbecue.  It was a bit harsh I’ll admit but that’s the price you pay for biting me.  Unfortunately that really upset my Grandmother because it was her bird so I killed her too. Now my mom is mad at me but I’m pretty sure she won’t say anything.
Well, all that killin’ had put me in the mood for some serious learnin’, so off to summer school I sped.  When I got to class everyone was wearing a red shirt.  Apparently it was red shirt day and I hadn’t gotten the memo.  So there I sat, feelin’ stupid in my green shirt. Luckily I didn’t have to feel like the dumbest kid in class for long.  Some kid in the front farted so loud the class next door laughed.  No matter how dumb I felt, I knew that kid felt dumber and that made me feel a little better.  After class I thanked the gassy kid for rippin’ one and left feeling like my day was not beyond salvation.  I was still painfully aware of the shirt situation and I couldn’t count on their being gassy people everywhere I went so I decided to go home and put on my red shirt.  After all, conformity is one of my highest priorities.

When I got home, I couldn’t find my shirt anywhere. That was when I remembered I’d seen that red shirt leaving the house this morning on none other than my sisterbot.  You see, a few years back my parents decided to buy one of those robots that is programmed to act like one of your kids.  The fad never really caught on but my parents decided to stick with it.  Well ever since my parents had her updated to be a teenage sisterbot she can’t keep her cold metal claws off my stuff.  I was so mad at her.  I don’t want to say what I did to get even but I will say I’m pretty sure that if she ever reads this blog she will not be happy.

Anyway, I was hopping mad again but I had to go  back to school for my Stretch for Flexibility and Relaxation class.  I’m takin’ it because I want to be really bendy.  Class began as it always does, with my super-hippy teacher putting on music with no discernible melody or beat and asking us to release the tension of the day, release it from every pore.  So I was going through the stretches and I had almost found my happy place when we bent and stretched into “dead bug pose” and then held it.  We held it for 5 breaths.  Well on the third breath I farted.  It was fart karma coming around to bite me in the…well, we all know where it bit me.  I could have died.  Not only was I wearing a green shirt, I was now the gassy kid in class.

I’d had such a bad day that all I wanted to do at the end of it was have a party.  I didn’t have time to throw one so I asked a bunch of people to meet me for dinner instead.  All the people I cared about most showed up…and some people I don’t really know or care about.  We all met a the restaurant and I realized once again that I was the only one not wearing a red shirt.  I finally asked, “Why is everyone wearing a red shirt today?”  The resounding answer was, “Everyone knows that June 21st is red shirt day.”  Way to make me feel better. I hate my friends.  Oddly enough, I still had a good time with them.  We all sat around and ate and talked at the same time so our table sounded like a gaggle of geese.  Talk talk talk. No one listens. When we finally finished talking at the same time we left.

What no one had bothered to do was pay the bill so we had all dined and ditched.  I have to say the restaurant industry does not condone that kind of behavior.  By the time I got to my car they had launched a full scale search for anyone in our party.  A helicopter was deployed as well as 4 ninjas with samurai swords and motorcycles.  I tried to out run ‘em but I didn’t get far.  Those guys think nothing of flattening a person’s tire with their swords.  Two guys dropped from the helicopter onto the hood of my car and handed me a  bill for $457.98 + tip.  “I can’t afford this,” I protested.  I had to give ‘em Fatty.  She’ll be washing dishes for the next 45 days in a minimum security correctional facility.  I feel kind of bad…but not bad enough to pay the bill.

What’s the moral of this story you ask.  There is no moral but if this was a competition, I would most definitely win the “Worst Day Ever” category hands down.  And that makes today the best day ever.

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