I have taken everyone’s suggestions into consideration for when the best time to post is. It was pretty split between evening and morning. Someone made a very good point that depending on where you are in the world, it could be afternoon/evening OR it could be morning/early. Thus, posting late or early in the day is a good idea, because either way, you are catching someone during their preferred reading time. Only a few people said they read off and on all day. So, in order to “catch” the majority of my readers, I have decided to post in the morning on Wednesdays. One of my friends had the great idea to post on Wednesday as a you-can-make-it-you’re-almost-there-have-a-laugh-boost! So, here we are!
I am a tad overwhelmed with my first 7-week masters class. The required reading makes me wonder what the fuck I was thinking. So, I am being lazy and posting a blog post from my old site, that I wrote years ago about my first time seeing a dwarf. Yes, you read that correctly. I did revise it, so there.
Before you read, know that this is satire, humor. I, in no way, feel our smaller counterparts are less. In fact, people of short stature are fascinating and wonderful people. Did I ingratiate myself properly? Now, onto the fun.
There are thousands of firsts in our lives-first kisses, first paychecks, first rolls in the hay, first midgets…oh… yes.
*Midget is not the politically correct term, so I have edited any further “midgets” to be more respectful.
I had my first little person experience this past summer in all places: Nottingham, England. Before this monumental first, I had never seen a dwarf in the flesh. Sure, I had seen them on TV, in magazines, in porn (don’t even act like you have never seen dwarf porn), but never right before my very eyes.
I am surprised I even saw her. I was standing in line to get a room at a motel and my leg suddenly had a crazy itch. I bent down to scratch and there she was, clad in wranglers and a cowboy hat. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was not in a crazy dream, or in Texas, or something. The luck in finding not only a little person, but one clad in western gear, in ENGLAND!
I was quietly amused, and as I mentally checked off ‘dwarf in funny clothes’, another thought struck me cold. See, I find humor in pretty much anything, but I am not extremely obvious about it, especially if it has the potential to offend or hurt someone’s feelings. But, my friend, the one who was currently, most likely, on his way into the motel lobby, was not so, shall we say, sedate about the things he finds amusing. I made a pact with God that if He somehow locked my friend in the car until I got a room, and the little person was safely out of sight, I would never again laugh at the vertically challenged.
God must have been busy that day, because between fervent promises and prayers, a voice whispered in my ear, “It’s a MIDGET!”
That was all it took for me to lose my I-didn’t-even-notice-you-standing-there-no-I-was-not-staring-cool. I responded with the most forceful whisper I could muster, “Shut up, go back to the car!” His response, “Look at her little wranglers!”
At this point, I could no longer keep the rolling laughter that had been building momentum in any longer. The attempt to keep a straight face looked like the combination of an almost sneeze face and a seizure. People were starting to stare at us.
We bolted before we made total and complete, utter asses of ourselves. In hysterics, we decided the best option was to hide behind the car, because getting in the car and driving off would have been too easy.
So, there we were, crouched behind our rental car, literally rolling on the ground with laughter. It was the kind of laughter that you try to hide and stop, because it is mildly wrong and inappropriate in the given situation, but that exact thing makes it even more hilarious. It was the kind of laughter that makes you cry and gag a little, because you can’t get enough air and you forget to swallow. I have never laughed so hard in my life. Between gags and wild laughter, I somehow made out a string of remarks, pleading requests, and queries, “Stop, I am going to pee! She is going to look out the window, and since she is a dwarf in a cowboy hat, she will know why we are laughing! Stop making that face! Don’t look at me, I can’t stop! I wonder what size hat that is?!”
It was awful, awful in a knowing-you-shouldn’t-laugh-at-others-but-you-can’t-help-it-because-it-was-a-little-person-in-toddler-sized-wranglers way.
It was inevitable that someone would take notice of the two spastic imbeciles laughing like hyenas on crack. “Are you two OK? Are you on the drugs?” a little old lady asked as she headed toward the car parked next to ours. That was our cue to move on from the Welcome Break.
Knowing how I usually react to anything of surprise (pointing and loud “whoa’s”), I am quite pleased with how I reacted to my first dwarf sighting. And to be fair, she WAS wearing western gear. I mean, come on. It is undeniable that if it were not for my friend, I would have never had a laughing fit behind a car in the middle of England, we would not have had to drive on for another hour looking for another cheap motel, and I would not have peed in my last clean pair of pants. BUT, I can honestly and with fond memory, say my first little person was an unforgettable one.