Things I Cannot Unsee

So the other night, we had a special gathering for Game Night. The story goes that Ahmed dressed up as the Virgin Mary for Halloween, 2015. The problem is that nobody got a good picture of it. As a result, Ahmed demanded that Game Night this week be a costume night. Think of it as a more mild, severely more sober Halloween. Now because my wife is preggers, she could not actually wear her old costumes. She had the option of a onesie, but that would be too hot for the summer. So what did she do? She stuffed a shirt in her shirt, carried a bottle of Jack, and claimed to be Craig.  The irony is that Tod-d, in an effort for a cheap-ass costume, decided to also be Craig. He was a lazy motherfucker and just had a sign that said, "Fuck you, Tod-d."

Now, because of this, we had a war of the Craigs. Little known fact, never go to war with my wife. Tod-d tried to call her out for being Todd, anytime she took the extra "fluff" out from under her shirt. My wife, keeping her composure, said, "Fuck you Tod-d. You abandon your fat. I never abandon it. I don't know what you are, but I am Craig. I have a heart." Of course, Tod-d was drinking his patented Jack and Coke at the time. Evidently he was not prepared for my wife to lay such a thorough verbal assault, because he then snorted the Jack and Coke out his nose. That's right, Tod-d inadvertently waterboarded himself with liquor.

Meanwhile, Ahmed decided to pass on the Virgin Mary costume. Instead, he showed up with a black wig, an American Flag bow-tie, and a robe. Now, for whatever reason, everyone in the group wanted Ahmed to reveal what was under the robe. And naturally, Ahmed decided to strip to the "Hey Hey Hey He-Man" song, on YouTube. That was two minutes and thirty-three seconds of the most scarring experience in my life. Okay, not the most scarring, but still fucked up. Ahmed starts by feeling the beat, getting a slight fist pump. Soon that fist pump grew into a full standing gyration.

Next thing I know, Ahmed is facing the other direction and the robe is over his head. Sure enough, there's an ass in everyone's face, wearing an American Flag Speedo. Ahmed turns around, and the robe starts to come off. This big ass, Middle Eastern motherfucker is dancing around with nothing but a black wig, American Flag bow-tie, and American flag Speedo. To make things worse, I suddenly see my wife grab a bunch of one-dollar bills and throw them in Ahmed's face.

Now, Ahmed made the amateur mistake of expecting the money to stay on the floor, after my wife threw it at him. Every good stripper knows to open up their underwear line for the patrons to slip money in. Otherwise you lose your money everywhere, and you end up having to touch the floor of a dingy club. In this case, it was an immaculate apartment floor, but the principle still stands. Living up to my stereotype, I immediately went into the Danger Zone to collect the money from the floor. Why was that the Danger Zone? Because there was an awkwardly close proximity between my face and Ahmed. On a personal note, I got my eye lock game on point. Do you know why I never get slapped for staring at people inappropriately? Because I have trained myself to burn out my peripheral vision and focus. I unfortunately was not prepared for when Ahmed sat down cross-legged on the floor. So much flag.....so much....

And so the moral of this story is that Tod-d is still Tod-d, and my wife has not given up on Craig's jelly belly. Also, I want to spray my memory with bleach to erase what I saw. So. Much. Flag.