Do you recall how many dumb-ass repeated phrases you have said in your life?
For example: You say something that can be considered a double-entendre, like, "...It was so big I could not even fit it in my mouth," to which some unoriginal asshole replies, "...That's what she said!"--- I mean, why is it always a 'she', like who is 'she'? 'She' must be a really dirty slut to be saying all of this crap. Why not a 'he'? Gay men see a lot more action these days than anybody straight. Perhaps the carpet-munchers do as well. Les-bian-nest!!!!
Anyway, what I am getting at is that we all have certain phrases that we use with certain friends and/or family at certain times in our lives. My two sisters and I, and even some of our friends, use the phrase, "...Welp," which is essentially the same meaning as the phrase, "...Well," but through silliness and having different meanings, it became what it is now. And it is usually said with a shoulder shrug and followed by another stupid phrase, like, "Welp, this is as good as it's gunna get."
I gone through many of these sort-of inside joke phrases with the people around me. Why, when I was around eleven, I remember BooBoo, Moose and I would get teased and pushed around a lot by the 'popular crowd' and we decided, like idiots, that a clever comeback was to say, "Go fart on a cow!" To us, that meant, "Go fuck yourself." However, our coolness factor would only allow us to repeat this stupid phrase as a comeback.
In the summer of 2009, I decided that it was cool to add the phrase, "Dot Com," after everything that anyone would say. Usually, they would have to be short phrases or sayings for me to bless it with a "Dot Com," but nonetheless, the fact that I thought that it was baller in any sort of way, makes it not baller, in general.
Matzah and I would be having an intelligent conversation where she would say something like, "And, I said to him, 'I don't think so'..." and then I would agree and add, "Dot Com." Eventually, when "Dot Com" started to get old, I would add more to it, until it got ridiculous.
Example: Matzah: "He put his arms around me..." Danny: "Dot Com slash Awkward slash EEEWW slash I would have punched him in the dick." ---Yeah, it got real annoying, even to myself. I wished I could stop.
In May of 2009, we were approaching Matzah's 21st Birthday. My birthday was only a short month after hers, so we were anticipating this particular summer to be phenomenal! Since most of our friends, at that point in time, were younger than us, there were only four people at her 21st Birthday. Two of them, including me, were still technically under age when I made my sister's ex-boyfriend/ bouncer of the bar/club Twenty in Stamford let us all in.
It was me, Matzah, Matzah's best friend growing up--- *ThisJew, and one of my friends from high school, *Basement Kid. Basement Kid and Matzah were friends, but not very close, seeing as they had only met once or twice before, but they enjoyed each other's company enough to spend time with one another on occasion.
This story is all about Basement Kid on Matzah's 21st Birthday.
The night started out with the four of us walking to Twenty in our best dressed. Basement kid was being particularly kind when he decided to buy most of the drinks that night, including Matzah's infamous Blue Long Island Iced Tea. In said Iced Tea, there were about four different kinds of liquor with barely anything else to dilute it. It was in a tall, wide glass with some ice and it was glowing blue. Real Healthy, I'm sure.
She started drinking this after we all swallowed two jello shots, like champs. I was now drinking a large cocktail and so were the other two. Matzah cringed every time she swallowed a sip of this her big-ass drink and kept saying, "I hate you guys!" To which I had to reply, "Dot Com." Even when drunk, I still could not stand my own phrase.
Cut to a half hour later, we are all shakin' our thangs on the dance floor like we were gettin' paid for it. Matzah was successfully 21st Birthday drunk by the end of the night. ThisJew was the responsible one who stopped drinking earlier in order to drive us home later that night. So, as she is driving us the 10 blocks from the bar to Matzah's house, she gets stopped by the police, who are doing a sobriety check. They ask her if she has had anything to drink on this night and she says no. Clearly, Basement Kid and I are smashed in the back seat as we continue to sing and chant Britney Spears lyrics like it's second nature. Matzah is in the front passenger seat, looking back at us, laughing her ass off. Luckily, the policeman did not ask questions to ThisJew and let her pass.
Pretty soon, Matzah, Basment Kid and I are sitting on the couches in Matzah's basement. Matzah kept mentioning to us to keep it down because she has younger siblings, who she did not want to wake up. Now, Basement Kid has always had this dry, sharp sense of humor. It's like he always has something to say back immediately after a dumb comment is said.
He kept asking me, "what is with the 'dot com'?"
And I would just say, "I don't know, you just have to embrace it, I can't stop!" So we started to laugh about it and pretty soon into the night, he was using it as well. Success?
Matzah fell asleep with her clothes and shoes still on with her legs hanging off of the couch. Her mouth was wide open as she breathed the sweet basement air. Basement Kid and I stayed up for another hour, talking about life and other shit when he stops me in the middle of my sentence and says,
"Hold on, I will be right back, I have to use the bathroom." He walks upstairs, which I found odd because there was definitely a bathroom down where we were. He must not have seen it, I thought.
About fifteen minutes pass and Basement Kid is still upstairs. This is when I started to worry. Shit, did he pass out? That would not be easy to explain to Matzah's mother and siblings in the morning. I'd better go check on him. Maybe he is sick in the bathroom upstairs?
What I found was more than I expected...
As I near the top of the steps, I see that it is dark with a little bit of light coming from the kitchen on the left. I whisper his name, "S**?" and get no response. As I finally reach the top step, I look towards where the light is coming from...the refrigerator. He was nomming upon everything that was in the vicinity of his mouth and hands. One hand was dipped deep down into the leftover mac and cheese while the other finger was being slurped in his mouth. Basement Kid had the double doors of the freezer and the fridge wide open and the light was shining out past him, creating a halo around his entire figure. He was pigging out so hard in my Jew's fridge.
"S**!!!" I whisper-yelled towards him, "What the fuck?"
Our eyes met for a split second when I had realized I'd scared the shit out of him. He snarfed his food and somehow ended up spitting everything he had in his mouth (mind you, he looked like a hamster when I got up there) all over the contents in the fridge. Chewed-up food EVERYWHERE! The situation was taken to another level when we both realized that I caught him red-handed, eating out of a family's fridge that he barely new. He did not ask anyone if it was okay. He was a sneaky, little rat about it. And he knew it.
It took us about thirteen minutes to stop laughing in the dark kitchen of the Jew family. There was a point in which I was rolling on the floor, holding my stomach from painful laughter. Basement Kid was holding onto the counter, keeled over in agony. The worst part was that we could not laugh out loud to get it out. We had to laugh silently due to the fact that there was a family sleeping upstairs. Both of our eyes had tears streaming out of them down to our necks.
We finally calmed down, while I tried to clean up the mess he was starting to make. We eventually made our way back into the basement and fell asleep. The next morning, Matzah woke up with a raging headache saying, "Never again with the blue shit..."
Of course, "Dot Com" was followed. She ignored it, like she was training herself to do so when Basement Kid added,
"So, like, what if your little siblings had come down here while we were all down here. Like, they know her (me) but they have no idea who I am, they'd be like, 'Oh, hey...um... Basement Kid." (If you cannot decipher it on your own, this is where his name comes from)
To which I then replied, "Dot Com" again. Like, SHUT UP!
"HAHA! BasementKid.com!" He laughed. It was nice to have someone laugh at my fucking stupid phrase. I barely laughed at it anymore because I was annoying myself to death with it.
To this day, I consider that night to be one of the top-ten most hilarious nights I have ever experienced. There are times when laughter feels good and refreshing, but this laughter was painful and wretched. My abs were throttled by it for days and it actually really hurt to smile for about 48 hours after the event took place. The only thing that made it even worse, in the morning, was when Matzah went to retrieve a piece of chocolate babka bread for breakfast and there were Wolverine claw marks in it. Apparently, Basement Kid decided to taste-test said bread as well during his binge. Who knows what else he tore through before I got up there. The three of us looked at the scraped marks in the bread and her and I turned to him and said,
"Really?" He could not do anything but laugh with a painful look upon his face.
"Yeah, I guess I got to that too..." He snickered.
"I mean..." Matzah said.
"I mean..." is another annoying phrase that has lasted since the summer of 2008 and all of my friends still use it to this day. I know that we sound uneducated when we say it, like slampigs, but it is so easy to replace dead air with that phrase. This one will never die.
"Dot Com" eventually met its end when I realized I was saying it in my head at an job interview for a random boutique I was applying for. I wanted to say it after everything this woman was telling me. I made a conscious effort to exile the phrase out of my vocabulary and only use it appropriately from then on.
It was hard to do, but I did it.
...That's what she said. Dot Com.
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