Excuse me, but I am going to need someone to go ahead and let Matt know that tickling is not a wrestling move. Matt and I often times enjoy what I like to think of as competitive battle. Matt’s idea of competitive battle is to tickle me and kiss me. I have told him many times, “While we are wrestling, we are enemies. Do not kiss me. This is a competition, goddamit.”
His reply is to typically hold me down and face rape me as I threaten to spit on him. Matt has advantages to wrestling that I do not. For example, he is physically capable of picking me up and lying me down on the floor so he can straddle me and tickle me until I scream and threaten to pee on him. He likes to tell me, “that’s what the steam cleaner is for.” Whatever. I cannot physically put Matt to the ground without kneeing him in his man area, which I would never do. So in order to wrestle, I have to ask him to lie on the ground which is humiliating. During the act of battle, I am typically totally overpowered by Matt, unless I get extremely enraged. This happened last night. After infuriating me by forcing his man kisses during our wrestling match, he decided he would take it upon himself to LICK the inside of my ear. Matt knows my ear is one of the few orifices I do not find enjoyment in being penetrated. Yet he did it anyway. The feeling of his New Jersey bred slobber, the knowledge that such a foreign culture had physically entered my ear, sent me into a rage. I pushed him away from me, even though he was pinning me down, and for a second, was slightly alarmed that the force of my push would result in a severe head injury because he fell backwards so quickly near the wall. He recovered well though, and as he came after me, I lunged at him, used all my limbs to pin him down, and thoroughly tongue raped his ear. As I dry heaved on top of him, trying to enjoy my victory of FINALLY overpowering him, he claimed he was overpowered because “he was laughing too hard.” I do not recall Matt laughing whatsoever. After I assured him I was not going to vomit on account of his ears tasting like Star Jones, I let him know that he had physically been overpowered by me, a girl, when I was in a condition of what I like to refer to as “a fit of tickle and spit induced rage.” Even now, he maintains he was not overpowered, but just laughing too hard to do anything about my warrior instincts. I maintain this gives me a perfect excuse to call him a douche monster and let him know that any cop in West Texas would not only throw tickets at him through his open driver’s side window, but also make fun of his sissy accent. I find endless entertainment on account of his heritage.
Wrestling is not the only sport that Matt likes to cheat at when I win. Let’s take darts for example. Matt likes to beg me to play darts with him after we have both opened a cold beverage. I nearly always start off winning, but by the end of the game and four beers down, I only want to argue with him about politics and religion and make sure he knows that I am not 100% certain that I’m OK with reproducing with someone from a third world country. So I’ll purposely screw up on darts and let him win so he’ll entertain my conversations. He claims this is a lie. Are you going to trust a West Texas girl or a dude who calls a remote control a “clicker” because of his Yankee culture? And let’s not mention the sport of being hot. I know how to pop my butt in many different black girl modes and can move my hips like a raging Spanish homosexual man. I had a luscious black girl named Neecee show me how to properly snap my fingers with “attitude.” No matter that she let me know after a few lessons that I was nothing other than highly offensive. So what if my dreams of being ethnic were forever ruined? Matt’s idea of being a sexual beast is to hiss, “Yeeesssss,” when I announce I am ready for penetration or to hop on the bed like a spider monkey grin at me like a serial killer when I tell him I’m feeling stimulated after watching him do man stuff. Never mind that I enjoy a solid chest bump after vigorous fornication or pop out my stomach to show him the result of what unprotected sex would be and ask him if I’d still be hot, I’m still WAY better at being a seductive sportsman.
Swimming is also a sport that Matt likes to cheat at. At the pool yesterday, after deciding to neglect my motherly duties of ensuring my child isn’t a victim of drowning or a noodle attack, I instructed Makayla to sit on the step and challenged Matt to a swimming contest. The goal was to get to the number four on the other side of the pool. While he got there first, I was distracted on account of my bikini falling off and ended up swimming further than he did. It was decided by myself and the lifeguard who I didn’t even bribe, that while Matt got to the number four first, I swam further. This obviously means I would have won had I not lost track of where I was going. Then we had a diving contest. Since Matt refused to do backwards diving and insisted on diving off an actual diving board, I lost horribly. I have been victim to many an injury on a diving board on account that I am as agile as a rhinoceros giving birth. I wanted to just dive off the side of the pool but Matt insisted on diving off the dangerous ledge. He went first and did some sort of Marine, swift, perfect form type dive. When it was my turn, as I instructed my body to not hurl itself onto the concrete on the side of the pool, I did some sort of weird dive thing that was more like a front flip. I haven’t dived since last summer. I needed practice. I gave Matt this information and challenged him to a back diving competition since I am somehow better at doing things backwards than forwards. He claimed his ears would get infected with any more diving. I am certain this is an excuse because he knew I would dominate him in this activity. Oh, and how about wall climbing? I let Matt know I would be dominating him in this sport and he managed to get higher on the wall than me on the hardest part. It’s not my fault I’m afraid of heights and he’s not, Ok? Anyway, I allowed Matt to have that victory. I like to do at least one good deed a day and was ready to have that burden out of the way. It’s like the time when we went to the batting cages and I forgot my batting glove and the vibration off the bat was really messing with me. As Matt whacked balls towards my face, I realized that while it might LOOK like he was better at baseball than me, he was only being fooled on account of me forgetting my batting glove. I consider myself to be a highly obnoxious person but I am still able to let a competitor know if he or she is better than me. Like, Matt is better than me at growing unusual amounts of man hair. Why would I take that victory away from him? He is better than me at giving each other piggy back rides and picking each other up. The first and last time I tried to pick Matt up, I injured my back in such a way that I lied in the hallway for twenty minutes and told him to “go away” whenever he tried to assist me. Matt is better at working on cars than me since I don’t need to know how to do all that crap because that’s what he’s for. He is better at social skills because annoying people are typically told by me that they are full of horseshit, and he just smiles and ignores it. So I am totally willing to admit that Matt is better at certain things than I am. But when it comes to things he is clearly cheating at, I really do think he should have some sort of consequence.
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