make way for hurricane smashley

warning: if this post offends you, blame it on hurricane smashley. do not say i did not warn you...

you know the feeling that you got when there was a tornado drill at your elementary school? yeah, the feeling of "great, now i have to sit here for five hours with my head between my legs!" well, i would have rather been sitting in the old, moldy halls of my rundown middle school, then suffer the trauma that i experienced last weekend. the trauma of hurricane smashley.

so the weekend started like any hurricane, the quiet before the storm. once i entered my little humble abode, i was greeted by j to the j's childhood friend with a sunshine of a smile and a big bear hug. "aww!" you are probably thinking. "what a wonderful "welcome home-it's friday!" kind of greeting. well, readers, this warm embrace from hurricane smashley is what i call the quiet before the storm. yes, i was thinking what you thought that at first because she made it feel like we were long lost friends, but do not let that fool you.

so here we go. tape your windows. go buy your can of beans and jugs of water. it is going to be a long storm with some much deserved damage...

friday night

walking through depaul university, a curly headed college kid in a tight white t-shirt wearing tight, wading-in-the-water jeans and moonboot sneakers comes walking towards us. "lucky!" no, it was not napolean dynamite... "gahhh...idiots!" it was some total depauler dork that was so ready to get back to his dorm room to raid world of warcraft or dungeons and dragons in any minute. not sure which fancied him. well, instead of walking past the poor little twit, like j to the j and i would normally do on any other night, hurricane smashley's winds began to gust. she ran up to the depauler dork. instead of running up to him and swirling away, she began to caress his scrawny birdcage chest and then ran her fingers through his greasy fro. so you would think that the midnight rape would stop there. oh no. wrong again. she then snatched the depauler dork's glasses from his pointy nose and stuffed his glasses into her overly exaggerated cleavage. now, let me TRY to describe the voice of both hurricane smashley and depauler dork. this is what made this fakward event more and more like a scene from the movie roadtrip with the really dorky kid that also acts in knocked up. so it was like hurricane smashley was quietly but sexually trying to seduce depauler dork like bridget from the girl's next door sweet talking hugh heffner for another stupid froo froo dog (sorry, sherbear. i do not mean to diss on libby, but wait i do...i cannot hide my true feelings about "so-called" dogs). then there was depauler dork. he sounded like... well, he sounded just like napolean dynamite. he was so confused. maybe it was partly because he could not see and then also because some girl was actually talking to him, but probably not in any way he has ever been addressed in his entire life. ok. hurricane smashley one, my windy city zero.

the rest of the night was not nearly as disastrous as what was to blow through lincoln avenue in 24 hours. again, you may want to check the batteries in your dollar tree flashlight and pull out the cullman camper gas grill to warm some hotdogs because hurricane smashley is about to take out a light pole or two or every single one along lincoln avenue.

saturday night

the night started out once again with the quiet before the storm. you would think she would not have any more winds to blow. j to the j and i decided to take hurricane smashley to one of our newly fav restaurants where the sangria is like candy and the tapas melts in your mouth. absolutely, delishy!  upon being seated at a table under the stars (because part of our fav restaurant is outside, like all of the restaurants throughout my windy city during the summer), our table was approached by a flamboyant hottie with a body (oh, darn. well, i guess that is what you get when you order from a guy that lives in boystown...) aka our comedy show for the night, our waiter. so of course we all make small talk with chris the comedian. of course, our small talk is not as forward as hurricane smashley. i mean would you expect anything less from a natural disaster? by mid-dinner and drinks, hurricane smashley and chris the comedian are taking my and j to the j's fav restaurant by storm. crude and raunchy jokes are flying into the air left and right. even a spanking was plastered upon the rump of chris the comedian. to give you a feel of him, he did not enjoy it as much as any other guy would. it may be because he admitted "well, my boyfriend can do it better. even though you look kind of like him, we are not pretending, girlfriend." ok sensory overload. most importantly, why did he have to stir up hurricane smashley by basically calling her a man, well kind of, and lowering the limbo bar for her to challenge.

it was like we were the only customers late night dining and drinking, but no. we were surrounded by couples and friends wanting to have a relaxing evening. sorry. you came to the restaurant on the completely wrong night. unless you were looking for a comedy club with over priced drinks.

so as we got ready to leave the table of trauma, hurricane smashley's winds were so strong, she smacked chris the comedian so hard, all of the waitstaff stopped with their midnight duties to take it all in, but still everyone dining paid us no attention. it was as if these people were in a bubble or were really good at turning off the kid silencer button which my parents still do to me to this day because yes, i do like acting as if i were the feisty five year with the never ending questions. hurricane smashley two, my windy city zero.

now to recap the later hours of saturday night:

• riding in a cab where you could literally stand up. so hurricane smashley did and yelled "i like it faster...FASTER!" to our taxi cab driver who ripped me off. i blame it on hurricane smashley. thanks... a lot...
• hanging out in our new fav lincoln avenue establishment, where hurricane smashley proceeds to sit on the random stove in the apartment with a rando guy that walked by and was intrigued by her yelling, "come over here and bang my oven!" again, it is hurricane smashley's fault. i cannot make these stories up.
• hurricane smashley begins to brand everyone in the way of her storm by spanking every booty she encounters, but the guys loved it. whatever to the maxx.
• last but not least, hurricane smashley's winds keep j to the j and i up till the rise of the golden glowing sun. again, hurricane smashley...

after griping about the damages caused by hurricane smashley, it took two whole days for j to the j and i to completely recover. we should have collected change for our hurricane relief fund. it was much needed.

hurricane smashley six, my windy city zero. my fancy definitely got branded by hurricane smashley last weekend. from here on out, my innocent fancy will forever be jaded.

as quoted by the late john lennon, "it was like being in the eye of a hurricane. you'd wake up in a concert and think, wow, how did i get here?"