The Night I used the Jenna Marbles Face

January 15th, 2:15 a.m.

After a great and funny night out, my best friend Mallori and I were eating at a booth inside Whataburger. Two guys and a girl sit down at the booth next to us, separated only by a 4-foot tall partition. One of them asks me, "Hey, do I know you?" Now, at 2 am, or really at any time on a Saturday night, the first thought is, "of course I don't know you and I don't want to get in your pants. Go away." However, I actually did know him. He was my bartender, Brandon, Thursday night when I made a short road trip to Talequah, Oklahoma. From this bartender, I ordered two drinks and about 100 waters. The next thing he says was, "you are the girl who ordered all the waters!" And then I realized how small of a place Oklahoma is. So we start chatting, making small talk, then he said something about me being pretty. Then, the girl gets jealous and grabs Brandon to make out.

At this point, the other guy realizes he should talk to us. Now, Brandon was in his 20s and not scary looking. Plus, I trusted him because he had been my bartender. However, his other friend was maybe in his 50s, and definitely creepy. He had grey hair poking out of a baseball cap, and had a bunch of piercings on his ears. At Whataburger after 2am, this guy is the definition of creepy. I never got his name, so I will call him Oldie. Oldie  starts conversation by trying to take a picture of me on his phone. Since there is only a partition in between us, There isn't much I can do to avoid this other than put my "thumbs up" face on, but he didn't like that and told me to put my thumbs down. So then I stuffed my face with a bite of my sausage biscuit. Then he didn't want to take the picture because I had so much food in my mouth. So I kept eating until he gave up. He also asked me to bend over so he could see my boobs. At this point, I was done with this guy.

He continues trying to talk to me, and I am trying to ignore it but Mallori and I couldn't really stop laughing. Then this happens:
Oldie: "Hey, look down here, is there something on my pants?"
Me: "No you are gross."
Oldie: "I'm un-buckling now."
Me: "I'm done talking to you." And then I turn away.

It was nearly impossible to ignore them, because they kept talking to us. At one point, he says that there aren't any Indians in Talequah-- the Cherokee Nation capitol. I am Cherokee, and decided to get a little defensive. Then he points to a gay guy (who was the star of Whataburger last night) and says that he likes him. I told Oldie that he only likes guys who speak Spanish, because earlier he hit on a a guy because he spoke Spanish and it was "so cute." Then he starts trying to speak Spanish to me, and then reverts to speaking Cherokee because he remembered that I was Cherokee. Now, I don't speak Cherokee- but it is on my bucket list to learn. So, to save face I just start ignoring him at this point. Because we are ignoring him, he looks to the booth past us and realizes that there is a table of Indians sitting there. So what does he do? He goes and makes some new friends. They were pumped about this, and I bet the bent over to show him their boobs.

At this time, Brandon stops making out and gives us attention again. We tell him that while he is okay, Oldie is a creepster. He got a little upset until I explained that in the first 10 minutes of meeting this guy, he tried to see my boobs AND show me his "wee-wee." Then Brandon understood, and started talking about how we were in love because we kept smiling at each other. At this point the girl gets upset again and tells him to stop. I tell her that he's fine, and that I trust him since he was my bartender. I guess that made her realize I wasn't taking her man, and then she laughed along with us the rest of the night. Brandon also kept trying to hold my hand across the partition. To "break-up" with him, I made an ugly face that he didn't like. That reminded me of a Jenna Marbles video that is one of my favorites: How To Avoid Talking To People You Don't Want To Talk To (Warning: there is offensive language in this video, so don't watch it if you don't like it). The jist that you make an ugly face to get people to stop talking to you. Then Oldie came back, said something offensive, so I started making "the face" at him. He was really confused, and even Brandon told me to stop making that ugly face. Unfortunately, we couldn't stop laughing which made the face a little less effective. Soon after, Mallori and I decided it was time to bounce.

As we get up, Oldie goes outside to follow the group of Indian girls. This means that he is standing right outside the exit. So what do we do? RUN. We ran to my car in the Whataburger parking lot at 2:45 am. The Indian girls yell after us, "I'm chargin' y'all five dollars!" I still don't really know why they were charging us five dollars, but we didn't care. We kept our five dollars and took the back way out of the parking lot, and then we laughed the whole way home.

The Most Memorable Christmas Present

Setting: My hometown, Christmas.

Age: 7

It was Christmastime again- a time of happiness, glory, and my trademark red, velvet velour Holiday Dress. I wore that dress for years, thinking it was the fanciest thing around. When it was time to break out that dress again, I knew I would soon be eating delicious food, leaving out cookies for Santa (and carrots for the reindeer, of course), and opening presents.

When I was little, the exact presents I got weren't that important. Does anyone remember those old Sears catalogs they sent out around September? The ones with about 5 million pages of toys inside? That catalog was likely the most favorite magazine of my years, until I discovered the humor of my friend's Cosmos. Each year, I would go through each and every page of that catalog and make my Christmas list. It took me many years to realize that if I gave my mom Santa a 7 page long Christmas list, I probably wouldn't be opening any of the items on there come December 25th (even the Easy Bake Oven that made my number 1 slot for 4 years running).

As you can see, I didn't really care what present I would get- I just wanted presents. Presents in any shape or form were good, but I always knew that bigger meant better. Right? At 7 years old with only a few years experience under my belt, that was the rule I lived by.

Christmas morning rolled around, and the living room had been visited during the night- I was sure of it. There was a giant mound of presents, the stockings were stuffed, and some of the cookies/carrots eaten. We weren't really allowed into the room yet, but I noticed a very large box sitting center stage in front of the tree. This box was almost the size of my body. I walked towards it, and lo and behold my name was on it. Not only that- but the tag read:

To: Katy

From: Evan, Clark, and Blake

Was this real? Were my 3 older, horrible, mean brothers giving me a giant gift? This couldn't be! Maybe they did what everyone always told me they would do- they would grow up and come around, and be amazing older brothers. It was finally my chance. I was finally being appreciated. I was in the Heaven of all Christmas mornings.

Each year we traded off where we did Christmas first. Unfortunately, this year we were spending the morning at my Grandma's house down the street. I loved my Grandma and spent just about every day over there, but I could not stop thinking about that giant beacon of a present sitting underneath our Christmas Tree. Through lots of presents and a fantastic meal, I couldn't stop thinking about that giant present with my name on it. I was ecstatic when it was time to head back down the street to our house so that we could open our presents.

I remember it so perfectly. The sky had already turned dark, since we were in those short winter days. We had opened some smaller presents, and then it was finally my turn to open what I had been thinking about all day. The whole day I had fantasized about the possibilities, but never came up with a prediction on what it actually was. When I got to the box, I tried to move it a little when I noticed that it was really heavy. The best just got better, I thought. As I unwrapped the box, I could hardly contain my 7-year-old self. I opened the box, and I first saw wadded up newspaper, a common present-box stuffer in my family. I start taking out the newspaper, and realize that the newspaper goes much deeper than I expected. But there has to be a present- why else would the box be so heavy?

And then I saw it. Them. There were 3 bricks placed in the bottom of the box. It took me one second to realize that I had been scammed, yet again. Think of a giant hot air balloon that has a cannon shot through it- that was how I felt. Upon my discovery, I was told/received a note that said, "These are so that you can start building your house now- maybe you will have a shack to live in by the time you are old." They always had a running joke that I would be living in a box- a box they were so kind to give me and let me live in outside their mansions.

Fortunately, it looks like the tables have turned and I will be the one living in a "mansion." I found out from my father recently that he had seen the box and saw them acting sneakily. Apparently he threatened them because he knew they were plotting against me yet again.

We actually still have those bricks, laying in the closet of my old room. I think their may be a re-gifting occurring next Christmas.

;)

The Infamous "Hawaiian Punch" Incident

Setting: My kitchen

Age: 3

For many children, colored drinks are a sugary dream that you can only wish to get to taste. I was one of these children. Being 3, the only fruit punch I ever had was in the form of Triaminic. I don't do well with liquid medicines, so this was not a fun trade-off for me. (Did anyone else have to take the pepto-bismol looking medicine that was "bubble gum" flavored? Traumatizing!)

One day, the two sisters were in town and unloading groceries with my 3 brothers. As you can imagine, we go through a ton of food. My siblings discovered that my parents had bought the Family Size bottle of ketchup, and decided to have a little fun.

When I was little, I enjoyed going through the groceries and pretended I was the cashier as I de-bagged everything and put them back in the shelves. As I was pretending to do this in my merry little world, my brothers handed me a bowl filled with red almost-liquid. The fact that the red almost-liquid was in a bowl should have been a warning sign, as well as the fact that it was almost-liquid. However, my three year old mind had no idea what was to come. When they handed me the bowl, they said, "Here Katy! Have some Hawaiian Punch!" I was ecstatic. I, 3-year-old Katy, was going to get to have Hawaiian Punch. I didn't even think about my lack of trust for my siblings- I went for it! I ate the whole bowl, with a spoon I believe, in record time. I was so happy- I was on Cloud 9.

Years later, I was told of this story as "The Time Katy Ate a Whole Bowl of Ketchup." Little did I know that it was not Hawaiian Punch, but that it was the majority of a Family Size bottle of Heinz 57.

Surprisingly, I still like ketchup.