You got me, I have a sick sense of humor, guilty as charged. When I was being chased by a female bully because I didn't reciprocate the same feelings she had for me, and when she was suddenly hit by a car to the point that she was airborne, I laughed for a few minutes. When I was staying over my friend Gary's house as a kid and his grandmother fell down a flight of stairs, to the point that it sounded like a mixture of drum rolls and shrieks of horror, me and Gary ran to see if his grandmother was alright. As soon as we realized that she was OK, THEN we laughed our asses off. Then there was that one time in college where I laughed my ass off at a cheerleader who was flung many feet into the air, only to have her cheer-leading squad drop her like a bad habit. That story gets more interesting based on the fact that the wounded cheerleader was my girlfriend at the time, and I was sitting right next to her parents when she became intimately acquainted with the gymnasium floor.
But it seems that time has softened me a bit, my morbid sense of humor is pretty much non existent these days. Case in point, a friend of mine named Crystal told me about a young drug dealer that had moved on her block and was negatively influencing the neighborhood kids. I guess she wanted me to scare him, and since he was legally an adult I felt like it was my duty to oblige her. I didn't really hurt the guy, just threatened the shit out of him in a very "Martin Riggs, Lethal Weapon, I'm crazier than cat-shit" kind of way, Oh, and I took some of his weed. I left that day feeling that my attempt to save the neighborhood children would look good on my "when I stand at the pearly gates" resume, but those feeling were short lived when I found out a few days later that the same drug dealer was back on the block.
I didn't really think much about it until I was invited over Crystals house for a party she was having a few weeks later. It wasn't a holiday, no ones birthday, and even though I know that you don't really need a reason to throw a party, this felt like a party with a purpose. As I got my eat on, chatted up some women with loose morals and low self esteem, and downed more shots than I care to remember, I was still wondering what the fuck everyone was celebrating. Right when my curiosity was getting the best of me I grabbed Crystals arm as she nearly passed me and said, "Hey, what is this party for exactly??" She smiled, poured some champagne in a glass I was holding that already had rum in it and said, "You didn't hear?? That drug dealer got killed last week in a drug deal gone bad. That scum is taking a permanent dirt nap, I hope you are having a great time HumanityCritic!"
For a guy with a morbid sense of humor, and someone who has never lost any sleep when bad people met their untimely demise, something still felt wrong about celebrating it the way people were at this party. I felt that me staying at this party for one more moment would scar my soul for an eternity, so I attempted to find the nearest exit. When I got to the door a beautiful young lady said, "Where are you going?? Don't you want to celebrate our "Death of a Narcotics Salesmen" party with us? I wanted to tell her how wrong it was, celebrating the demise of another black man, I also wanted to add how irresponsible it was for adults to be acting in such a way, but when I looked down and saw her cleavage that was as long as a country mile all I could say way, "I ain't going anywhere, fuck that deceased, street pharmaceutical selling fuck!!!"(What can I say, tits are my kryptonite) But that wouldn't be the first or the last time I was a part of some inappropriate celebrations.
The "Thank God your not pregnant" party: For a paranoid germaphobic guy like myself, many of you would be shocked at the extent I played Russian Roulette with my cock about a decade ago. Even though I am disease free, sometimes I feel like getting retested based on the miscellaneous pieces of ass that I have flashbacks about. Anyway, in college I had a girlfriend named Tonya that I had unprotected sex with, not because we were both tested or she was on the pill, simply because I made myself believe that my constant cannabis intake had made me unable to spread my demon-seed. That was until Tonya had a few dreams about fish, had weird cravings, her period had taken a sabbatical, and she was praying to a porcelain god every day. She figured she was pregnant, so when she asked me what my opinion was I knew that I had to chose my words correctly. Sure I said the right things like, "even though I'm not ready for a kid, if you had it I would be there 100%", just in case she actually decided to have it so at my kid's High School Graduation her ass couldn't pull that "You know your daddy wanted me to abort you??" shit. So through a few trips to church to engage in marathon prayers sessions, a few home pregnancy tests, and a trip to her personal doctor, at the end of the day she wasn't pregnant.
So to celebrate, we went to our local college bar and bought drinks for everyone in honor of our "motherfucker we're not pregnant" celebration, looking back it was very stupid. It was weird though, hearing people congratulate us on a kid we weren't having, but we had the time of our lives. Of course we came home that night totally shitfaced, engaged in unprotected sex, and had to go through that same ordeal over again. But I must say, when I went to mass early one morning it was quite Humorous to hear the priest say, "What, scared your girlfriend is pregnant again???"
A "Stop Being a Bitch" party: At the end of a 5 year relationship where my ex-girlfriend dropped me like a bad habit, lets just say that that was my main topic of discussion around that time. My friends were patient, telling me that there "are other fish in the sea" and shit like that, but I could tell that my brand of bullshit was wearing thin on them. But I really felt their angst when I walked in on a surprise "Stop being a bitch" party they were throwing me. These motherfuckers had stuck to the theme and everything, the women were in suits and the men were wearing clothes usually worn by females.(or drag queens) Not only did random people walk over to me and utter the words "stop being a bitch" the entire night, they actually had me hit a pinata that was filled with "feminine products". This party was the brainchild of a uberfemanist friend that I have named Melanie who just wanted another reason to call a man a bitch, and to somehow get me out of the funk I was in. At the end of the party when Melanie was talking on the microphone about her attempts to cheer me up. When she asked me to speak, and talk about the party and what I had gotten out of it, I wanted to shock her pro woman sensibilities just a bit. So I said, "This party is just an indicator to all the ladies out there that my dick is back on the market!! This party also showed me that I'm not being anyone's boyfriend any more, I'm going to be like Biggie on some "..when I see the Semen I'm Leaving'" shit!!" I turned to Melanie and said, "I'm just fucking with you.."
A 'Hey, You turned me into a Lesbian" Party: I was invited to a party my ex girlfriend named Paula was having a few years back. Even though our relationship was turbulent at best, I felt that possibly this party was a stepping stone for us rekindling our relationship, or at least rekindling late night booty requests. I get to the party, everything seemed cool, even though Paula was spending a lot of time with one of her home-girls, I was having a good time. Things began to spiral downwards when I finally got a chance to speak to Paula and inappropriately said, "Why do all the chicks here look like they should be playing in a WNBA all-star game??" She looked pissed and said, "I never knew you to be homophobic???!!", then stormed off. The whole night, between being turned down by women like I had horseshit on my shoes, I wondered why Paula reacted like that. About an hour later I understood why, I was at an engagement party for Paula and her Girlfriend Maxine. Even though I was sad that that meant that my chances of fucking Paula decreased greatly(that's an understatement), I was happy for her.
That was until the happy couple talked to me at the end of the night, saying that I was "responsible" for them getting together. When I asked them to explain further they basically said the the horrible relationship Paula had with me just made her new path even clearer. "Clearer??", I said, "I don't want that shit on my resume!!!" "Why", they asked, so I replied, "Why should I feel comfortable with being the one guy, whether it be my lack of sexual prowess or my asshole nature, to actually turn you to lesbianism??" They tried to say that that wasn't the case but I didn't want to hear anything else they had to say. I blacked out that night, but the last thing I remember was having a drink with a girl who looked like Phillip Michael Thomas..