Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Not My Classiest Moment.

I was raised as an only child.  Liz was raised with three brothers.  All the shit they gave her, she passed on to me.  Once Liz found your weak spot, she went after it with a zeal she usually reserved for Patriots, Bruins, Celtics and Red Sox games.  One St. Patrick's Day, Liz decided that the way I blew my nose was weird.  The way I held my kleenex was weird.  The sound I made when I blew my nose was weird.  My nostrils were weird.  Of course, she didn't stop there.  I was also not wearing enough green that day.  So she kept pinching me and otherwise berating me for not celebrating enough.  Liz didn't care that I wasn't Irish.  I was her bestie, so I was automatically Irish and needed to embrace the day.

I just happened to have a horrible sinus infection that weekend.  I felt like shit and I really wasn't in the mood for Liz's teasing.  But I had agreed to go to some shoe store in Oakland with her, so I was trapped in a car with a bullying Irish girl who was determined to harass me until I died.  On and on she went each time I blew my nose.  I had to do something to shut her up.  But what could I do?  I pondered this problem while she went on and on until it came to me.  I waited until we were parked in front of the shoe store.  I grabbed a kleenex, blew as hard as I could into it and before she could start giving me shit about it-
I opened up the kleenex, showed her the contents, which were, in fact, BRIGHT GREEN  and yelled, 


She left me alone the rest of the day. 

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