Laundry Shower

Here's a story about my friend, Kate. Kate's getting married. Kate and I were trying to plan her bachelorette. I wanted to play the laundry game.

Let me first start by saying, I am normally a really good speller--I only lost the 5th grade spelling bee because Burrito really should be synonymous with Chipotle. I can spell Chipotle just fine. A few weeks ago, I realized that lingerie is also a word that trips me up...

#howImetMaddy email:

Solid planski.

(against your will) we will probably have to squeeze in the laundary game... just to see how awkward you get.

Kate is getting married email:
What the hell is that game?

#howImetMaddy email:
Everyone brings you laundry & a pair of undies and you have to guess who each is from.

Kate is getting married email:
Um gross, like old ones? No… this is not happening…

#howImetMaddy email:
EWE

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! laundary for your wedding not old ones.

Kate is getting married email: radio silence.

#howImetMaddy email:
I meant lingerie not laundry.

Kate is getting married email:
Omg thank god…. PHEW

The true lesson is here to check the spelling and context of all words before sending an email; otherwise someone may end up with their panties in a wad. Literally.

 

A tapeworm and whole lotta problems.

Have you ever had an awkward conversation with someone you were dating? I mean like really awkward. Stick with me a minute, I mean so so incredibly awkward, it was almost as if you shit your pants?

Well, I did. That conversation was pointless, because I actually shit my pants. And not just, a "oops I shit my pants" moment. But a literal crisis.

I will start from the beginning, as I have to with this blog because I think details are important. It was the year 2011, well actually 2012 and I went on a mission trip to El Salvador. Typical mission trip things, building schools, working in the orphanage and immersing ourselves fully into the culture. I took that a little too literally, again details. I decided it would be a good idea to really really (I mean really) fully immerse myself in the culture. I tried sugar cane with the kids at one of the volunteer sites. It was delicious.

Approximately three weeks later, back at school after a 6 week long winter break. I was settling into a new apartment and trying to figure out how to juggle a new relationship, school, job and activities. Not before long, I realized I was getting in over my head and I was stressed out.

The guy I was dating at the time, let's call him, Bart, started to become concerned with my stress as he noticed I was rapidly losing weight. One night, we had a conversation that went along these lines....

Bart- "Hey Maddy. I have a question for you, but you promise you won't be mad about it?"

In my head I was thinking, of course I am about to be mad, what are you trying to ask me....and as a whirlwind of what-the-hell's formed in my brain, I heard...

Bart-"Have you been eating?"

Now, I realize this is a serious topic for most but this is a blog post about shitting their pants so I apologize again for the informality and if it offends anyone, but I responded with,

Me-"Eating what? Food? Yes, of course I am."

To which the conversation quickly went south, inquiring that I looked like I had lost a lot of weight and that he was concerned about me. How nice of you Bart.

Long story, incredibly longer, it was a tapeworm. After several awkward conversations that should never happen in the first 6, no, first year of dating, I shit my pants in a Walmart. I could share the details about how I was told not to leave the house and how my roommates thought "Maddying" my pants was incredibly funny, however, I will just leave you with, if you want to kick start a relationship, shit your pants in a Walmart.

You should write a blog.

You should write a blog.

I can't decide if that comment is a compliment or a joke but I have been pondering the idea for quite some time now. How I Met Maddy is a series of stories of trials and tribulations of dating, meeting new friends, making out (that's an important part) and living in the city. It seems that everyone has a story to share but a lot of times we are too afraid to share our own. I think the hardest part of writing a blog is deciding where to start or trying to choose which stories are the most worthy or the funniest. The truth is Meeting Maddy is neither of those things.

This is just my life and these are all true stories. You might not believe everything you read and that's okay, because sometimes I have a hard time believing them myself. To protect myself and those around me, names have been misspelled, altered or changed completely. Nicknames have been kept in tack because it's hard to explain a story about BDK (Big Dick K) or PC (hint: not short for personal computer) if I were to alter them. So to those men (you probably don't know who you are) I apologize in advance.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the read. I will try to post once or twice a week, but keep in mind I have a lot of stories that need to be shared and not a lot of time to make it out. And for those of you who know the real me, I do not mean between floors L and 22. Cheers!