Almost Dying of Thirst Will Make You Say and Do Crazy Things (Updated Title: Don’t Ask a Midget to Marry You Unless You Really Mean It)

OH MY GOD I AM SO THIRSTY.  I’ve been on the couch all day eating pretzels and watching TV and playing on my computer (NOT PORN, YOU PERVS) and I need more Diet Coke but I haven’t gotten up for it because that involves me, well, getting up, and this is my day off so FUCK THAT.  I don’t care that I’m starting to shrivel from lack of moisture or that the kitchen’s only a few feet away, it still involves physical exertion and I’m not down with that.  So I’ll just stay here, eating more pretzels because I can’t stop myself and watching TV and playing on the computer (STILL NOT PORN, YOU SKEEVS) doing that weird licky thing you do when you’re extra-extra thirsty and don’t have any Diet Coke, or is it just me who does that?  Anyway, when the weird licky thing doesn’t work I’ll feel sorry for myself for a while but then I’ll remember that I HAVE A HUSBAND and when we took our vows I’m pretty sure he promised to love, cherish and keep me hydrated, or something like that, so I’ll yell ”HEY DUMBASS GET ME SOME DIET COKE” but he won’t respond so I’ll yell “COME ON DICKWEED, chop chop!  Diet Coke! NOW!!” but oddly, he STILL won’t respond so I’ll have to actually get up off the couch and go looking for him, which totally pisses me off because hello? DAY OFF?  and also, what the fuck? WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?!? but I won’t find him in the bedroom or garage or office or kitchen so finally I’ll give up and go back to the couch to eat more pretzels which I now believe are laced with crack and wait for his return so I can demand more Diet Coke.  Then I’ll hear the toilet flush and go “OHHHHHH” because I just realized that (1) he’s been busy dropping a deuce (HIS TERM NOT MINE — BUT STILL AWESOME) and (b) at this point I’m so thirsty I’d drink the toilet water to wash down my delicious cracky pretzels, I swear to god I would. 

(Okay, that’s a total lie, I would never do that, but the dog would and I would watch him and think to myself how nice it would be to be a dog in between gag reflexes, so I think that makes it as good as true.)

So anyway, my point is, I’m totally dying of thirst here, and also I need a new husband. 

There’s a midget who lives about four houses down and I bet he’d make a terrific husband.  I always joke to the Big Bean when we see the little guy outside mowing his lawn in his wee wife beater and boxer shorts (he really wears that, I couldn’t make that up, people) that he’ll be my second husband someday, but now I’m thinking it’s more than just a joke, maybe I’m totally serious about that.  Maybe a wee midget husband is exactly what I need.  I bet he’d be HAPPY to bring me some Diet Coke right now.

Someone just informed me that midget is a politically incorrect term.  I think I knew that but what the hell am I supposed to call a midget so as not to offend him?  “Vertically challenged”?  A “Short-American”?  A “Little Person”?  HELL NO.  Those all suck.  Midget is WAY BETTER.  If I was a midget, I’d want to be called a midget, screw all that sensitive, oh-no-did-I-hurt-your-feelings nonsense.  Let’s call a spade a spade.  Let’s call a midget a midget. 

Besides, my friend Big Happy Guy was out on a first date a few months ago and he was trying really hard to impress this new lady with a what a great guy he is (which he totally is, despite the story I’m about to tell you) and there was a family with like four kids sitting at another table and he thought he’d show off how kid-friendly he is so he was all “Awwww!  Look at those cute little people, I just love them, I just want to pinch their tiny little cheeks!  They are SO CUTE, those little people!” but it turned out that it was an entire family of ACTUAL “Little People” and they heard the Big Guy say that and let me tell you, they were PISSED.  Like pissed enough that they all turned around and gave him scathing little stares and then the little mom came over and called him an asshole, right there in front of his new lady. 

Needless to say, he didn’t get lucky that night. 

So anyway my point is, all this political correctness is just causing a lot of unnecessary confusion and keeping really good guys from getting laid on first dates, and that just ain’t right.  I’m sure Big Happy Guy didn’t need any help from you PC Nazis in striking out — he could’ve done that perfectly well, all on his own.  So let’s stop the madness and just call them midgets, okay?  That’s what I’m planning to call my second husband, anyway, and he’ll like it, and if he doesn’t, well, hell, I guess we just weren’t meant to be. 

Update:  Oh SHIT, y’all, I just went down to the midget’s house and asked him if he’d like to be my second husband and he was WAY TOO INTO THAT and I don’t have the heart to tell him that I was just kidding.  Will one of you tell him for me? 

Second update:  However, he DID just bring me a Diet Coke.  Score one for the midget.

Third update:  However, he was STILL in the wife beater and satin boxer shorts so I’m taking away three points.  Midget score is now negative two.

Fourth update:  I don’t really have anything else to add here, I just really like saying the word midget.  MIDGET MIDGET MIDGET

Fifth update:  Full disclosure?  I wrote this after making a bet with a midget friend that I couldn’t work the word “midget” into a post 20 times.  I WIN MOFO PAY UP

Sixth update: My friend is totally a midget so if you’re out there reading this and getting all judgy and “no she di’int,” fuck off, nazi, my midget friend thinks this post is AWESOME. 

Seventh update:  Also, did you notice how I just worked in two bonus MIDGETs up there?  POW!  SHAZAM!  BEEJ STYLE, you little bastard!

Stumble it!

Tags: If you're a midget you probably shouldn't read this post, Would someone just bring me a goddamned Diet Coke already?