I’ve often wondered why each and every time I’m brave (read as: clinically retarded) enough to leave the confines of my room to venture unto this confusing little realm we call “reality” I find myself not only bat shit terrified, but also surrounded by enough unfortunate events to actually justify my paranoia.

The particular adventure I’ll retell this time around would be the first centering around the genetic misdemeanour of a friend (he regrows teeth……….for reals yo) I have known only as “Yashad”. Of course this being me I can’t POSSIBLY call him by his ACTUAL name the entire entry (as that simply wouldn’t be appropriate) so we’ll call him Y-tama. Admittingly that’s a little dirty of me but considering my initial idea was Y-chinko…..I think those few of you who know what those suffixes mean might forgive me.

I won’t go into too many details about how we know each other but as a brief I’ll simply say we met in Grade 10, coincidently took almost every class together, became rather close nit friends and even had one point whereby I chaperoned an important date of his while I…..well…..while I was wearing a dress….

SOME THINGS DON’T NEED TO BE EXPLAINED.

*ahem*

R-Regardless, we’ve kept in touch and while I decided to study network engineering and train my art skills (albeit what little of them are not imaginary) solo, he decided to follow the path of a graphic designer and thus in his 4th and final year of study he invited me to “attend” an exhibition at his university.

The reason I use the word “attend” so loosely is because little did I know before hand that…….I was going to be part of the artwork itself.

He gently eased in the surprise, in fact he folded it compactly in between a ramble about how he’d found some girl at varsity that would love my manly bits and not run away screaming (and perhaps my reply of “How big is her penis?” wasn’t entirely appropriate when I remember that his MOTHER was in the car with us at the time)…..but I would not be fooled! I STARED HIM DOWN AND DOWN AND EVEN FURTHER DOWN AND then I sort of squinted for a bit because the windows were open and the wind was getting in my eyes…..B-BUT THEN I FINALLY GOT THE TRUTH OUT OF HIM I DID!

Our objective revolved around his creation known as “Felicity” (which I accidentally named a few nights before during one of his “SAY A RANDOM WORD!”-Phonecalls) and the idea of dressing “her” up. Essentially we had to grab attendees (which wasn’t hard because 2 hours before me and Y-tama went around sticking his posters….on top of everyone else’s posters), ask them to choose a unconventional shape from the floor (which me, Y-tama and his clinically insane but altogether rather friendly brother made before hand) and pick a spot for us to tape it up on the sculpture.

The biggest flaw in this plan was probably that Y-tama felt it right that we don’t let the actual viewers tape things themselves. From a practical stand point the 3 of us desperately fighting over the ladder, tape and actual moving room didn’t work out really well but the real kicker was having to tell the excited little artlites that they couldn’t do it themselves and watch their faces droop much akin to a 40-something woman’s chest.

Time went by as the unyielding bastard it is and so we found ourselves at would could only be considered the end of the event. This “end” however was some sort of pseudo new usage of the word as Y-tama’s female photographer friend “Z” (who Yash has a bulge in his manties for) spent the next hour taking photographs of his piece from every angle possible.

Finally……she was done…..finally I could begin the journey back to my lair…….finally I could touch myself inappropriately while watching Full House reruns………BUT NAY! REALITY WAS FAR CRUELLER THAN I EVER IMAGINED! Not only were we detoured into a brief stint into what was vaguely considered a “vip lounge” but after even escaping those confines we found ourselves needing to jump start a neighbouring vehicle!

I use “we” vaguely of course as my knowledge with cars is comparable to a 3 year old’s knowledge of whether shitting on the walls is a good or a bad thing.

Turns out it took me a little longer than 3 years to learn that lesson myself…..but moving ever so onwards for the sake of whatever is supposedly left of my pride…..

Eventually we found ourselves homeward bound and a surprising addition to our crew was Y’s female friend, although what wasn’t surprising is after questioning me on my origins (every person does this as I have an indefinable accent)  she started battering me with insults, insults I may or may not have deflected when I politely questioned if her Greek heritage was somehow related to that moustache peeping out from under her nose……pleasantly she found complete silence for the next hour a rather appropriate response.

That said even though I’m sure I met someone who’ll be sharpening cutlery in my direction, even though I was exhausted by the whole affair and even though I wrote an entry people should deserve a medal (or at least a spray painted coupon) for actually wading through, I do still think it was a worthwhile endeavour.

[EDIT] Cap’n Yashpants has requested I spam the masses with his Youtube channel. Little does he realise my “masses” are about 5 people, 4 of which probably have downs syndrome. [/EDITness]