You ever have one of those “What the Hell” kinda’ moments? Somehow you’ve become the butt of some sinister Darth Vader type plot to bring you down. Like out of nowhere while waiting for the bus, you get smacked in the face with a boat oar by a medieval gnome hiding in the bushes. “Didn’t see that comin” you might say. I’ve had a lot of moments like that.
I think it all started in Elementary school when I came home off the school bus with nothing on but my duckie underoos and a trench coat. No – I wasn’t a little flasher in the making; I simply lost my dress. “How the hell did you lose the clothes off your back young lady?” my mother wanted to know. It was a long story involving a tu-tu, smacking my head on the floor, and my dress winding up as a flag that my brother waved up and down the aisle of the school bus. My first, “What the hell?” moment.
Prom! There’s a hot button. As a writer for our local paper I often get to cover some local proms. There’s always some idiot wearing a three-muskeeteers outfit or a chick that made her dress out of duct tape with a matching purse. And of course there’s always one kid having a full out, streaming tears, tomatoe-faced meltdown out the side door in their purple tux screaming into the cell phone, “You don’t give a shit about me!!” It reminds me of my own, “What the Hell ‘Prom’ moment”. Wearing a white gown I wanted to make sure I had at least some color so I wasn’t so pasty white. So the day of the prom I skipped school and decided to lie on the back porch to get a great tan. It was kind of overcast so I got out some tin-foil and wrapped it all over the lounge chair. Then I covered myself in vegetable oil and put myself out to bake for 90 minutes. Well, dip me in butter, I got color alright – a nice lobster red in a white dress. Then when my date showed up just as red - we were a perfect match. Then when we were seated at the wrong table with the BOCES kids no-one ever knew- it was just icing on the cake. (sigh) The pain still hasn’t healed….
Most recent, “What the Hell?!” moment happened when I went to deliver my second child and the nurse tells me they changed their policy and they don’t give as much of the epidural that they did 2yrs. earlier when I delivered my daughter high as a flippin’ kite on that stuff. Words cannot describe my complete Ape shit melt-down I did on this woman telling her what she could do with her F**in’ policy. She didn’t say a word but instead stuck me with something called “Stadol”. Well, let me tell you! I asked for another round of that Stadol-shit and wanted to know if my husband could have some and if it comes in 6-pks. So it started out a very frustrated “What the Hell” moment but turned into a stoned, giggly-high, “What the Hellll, Man…” moment.
Now there are all kind of sub-categories of the “What the Hell” moment. There’s the “Delicious-Gossipy” category when you tell your girlfriend about the blow-out argument the neighbors had in the driveway and with a raised eyebrow and shaking her head, “Mmmm Mmme, Girl, what the hell…”. Then there’s the “Road Rage” category whereby that crazed old lady side-swipes your car and when you both pull over she tells you she’s going blind and is on the way to the eye doctor. You clench your teeth and grumble “What the Hell” under your breath as you consider backing your car over her. At times you may want to graduate to the ever popular, “What the Fuck?!” which is when you walk out of the bathroom to find that your adorable children have painted everything with peanut butter. Peanut butter all over the dog, your expensive big screen TV, inside the Blu-Ray, each other, the walls, leather couch, the carpet….. everywhere. Boy, and if there’s truly evil in this world it’s getting Peanut Butter off of anything. Try cleaning a hunk of it off a knife that’s been in a sink full of water for awhile. It’s just nasty.
You too can have your own “What the Hell?!” moment. Just look around; they’re everywhere. Just like a crouching medieval gnome waiting in a bush with a boat oar.
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