Glitter Bitches!
Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 6:26AM Glitter is evil.
A year after the wife and I moved into our first home she invited a former roommate to visit.
A day later we’re throwing a neighborhood bash in her honor. Beers are flowing. The grill is smoking with orgasmic fumes of cooked dead animal flesh.
I’m hanging out in a chair, laughing, trying to be funny, and enjoying many a beverage.
That’s when it happened.
I look up to see the wife’s former roommate standing before me, unnaturally interested in the rambling mess spewing from my distorted lips.
Then a pause.
Then, she screams “glitter bitches!!!!” as she unleashes two handfuls of glitter all over every inch of my person.
Head to toe, in my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth, contaminating my beverage….everywhere….glitter.
It was absolutely brilliant. The fact she even waited more than 24 hours upon her arrival to pull this award-winning prank made it even that much more respectable.
Since then, I’ve had an undying hatred for glitter.
Almost three years later we moved after two ankle biters graced our presence. Upon opening a couple boxes we still found glitter.
Fast forward to the X-mas holidays of 2011….
I finish volunteering in the boy’s 3rd-grade classroom holiday party and take a slow jaunt down to the daughter’s 1st-grade class to see if the wife needs help wrangling the little bastards around Ole Saint Nick projects.
When I walk in the classroom my sights lock immediately on a gaggle of desks jammed together in a U-shape. Kids on one side. One lonely, helpless woman on the other.
And in-between…glitter hell.
The kids’ activity was to turn a cup upside down, cover it in glue, throw glitter on it, and BAM!!! an ornament guaranteed to hit every household trashcan the second it’s pulled from the book bag.
Everything around me blurred as I watched on the kid taking handfuls of glitter and dumping it on the kids head next to him. Another was putting handfuls in his pockets. Next to him a girl sneezed, wiped her hands across her face leaving a fantastic handlebar mustache of glitter.
Volunteers throughout were completely ignoring this one table, hurriedly making themselves look busy as glitter overtook the station like a sand storm.
It was absolute and total hell on earth.
Being the jackasses the wife and I are, we jumped in to help as best we could. And glitter has re-entered our lives yet again.
Bad things happen in threes, or so they say. The third time glitter overtakes my life, it better damn well be in the form of dollar bills, strippers, or Goldschlager.
Do they even make that shit anymore?
