sarc.

I am a 30 year old mother with 4 successful, yet equally disgusting vaginal births to my credentials, and despite giving birth in my teens I neglected to sell my baby, I mean story, to MTV. I use to have all 10 episodes of Friends on DVD but I just sold them in a relatively successful eBay auction and offered free shipping which tells you a lot about my personal belief system. I look really good photoshopped and in the dark and my kids say my best quality is when I am not around. I volunteer my spare time on Social Media Studies where I study the reactions of what people think of all the dumb things I have to say. I am not a vegan but I am friends with a girl who has a tomato plant and I always slow down so my kids can say "LOOK! A COW!" when we drive past a large open field. I enjoy long walks from my couch to the fridge, spending time pretending I don't have a family and reading the classics. The classics is what I call Teen Vogue. I am almost graduated from online college and when I finish I would like to forget that I owe $15,000 in student loans and head down that weird patch of dead grass behind the mall and wait to apply for a job with the traveling carnival. I am a photographer in my spare time, which just means I bought an expensive SLR camera once and forced my friends to pose while I took their pictures, and I've also traveled the world. (it's just America). If I win I am going to do whatever I can to put hurricane machines in the cafeteria, and have Taco Bell catered in at lunch time.
The year was 1999. My outfit was from Fashion Bug. (see also; horrendous) My shoes, looked like something from the reject prop bin on an episode of Charmed. My hair; orange. My virginity; still very much intact. My parents; gullible enough to let me move back to Alaska to live for my senior year with my best friend at the time, an equally as ignorant on fashion 15 year old with access to a plethora of boys. Namely: Baseball players. My job: Working at Chuck E Cheese. Highlights included: cleaning off the buffet, making sure nobody tried to steal children, and being Chuck E Cheese. This is where our story begins. (The following is an actual account of the first time Ruth ever got drunk, and vomited into the body of a Chuck E Cheese costume:) I had never tasted alcohol. Or been kissed but that’s beside the point. The evening started out innocent enough, I went to visit the 18 year old male stripper I had met the night before at a baseball game where I introduced myself as Mormon Ruth, a girl with high morals, and no desire for anything that wasn’t scripture reading and prayer groups. He saw right through my Fashion Bug sweater vest and said he was having a *party that night and we should come. *His parents were out of town and he’d love nothing more for me and my friend to come over to his completely vacant house and raid their liquor cabinet. I gasped and said NO WAY. I arrived at 8. We began shooting Southern Comfort like Civil War soldiers and telling stories of our sordid youth. After 4 shots I was ready to show him why they called me Rad Ruth, and he was completely okay with that. 2 minutes into showing him I became ralphing Ruth and he ordered me out of his house. I went home to my summer abode and puked on my besties white couch, and then fell asleep in her bath tub. I had to be at work at 9am, and I was scheduled to appear as Chuck E at 11. I donned my suit at 10:45 and told my boss it might be a bad idea. She assured me that little Christopher would love it and to go ahead. 10:46, my vomit became self aware. I left the magic changing spot in the costume, the ONLY costume, and headed to Christopher’s party. 10:48. Christopher never got to see Chuck E, because Chuck E fell over in front of the prize counter and puked inside said costume. Not wanting to ruin childhood dreams I alerted my co-workers to the situation and attempted to get Upchuck Chuck E back to the disclosed location. I arrived. I was asked to go home. I was also asked not to come back. I obliged. Needless to say that job and my innocence were both short lived. The moral of the story is nothing good can ever come from drinking Southern Comfort and Chuck E Cheese birthday parties are entirely too overrated. 

The year was 1999.

My outfit was from Fashion Bug. (see also; horrendous)

My shoes, looked like something from the reject prop bin on an episode of Charmed.

My hair; orange.

My virginity; still very much intact.

My parents; gullible enough to let me move back to Alaska to live for my senior year with my best friend at the time, an equally as ignorant on fashion 15 year old with access to a plethora of boys.

Namely: Baseball players.

My job: Working at Chuck E Cheese.

Highlights included: cleaning off the buffet, making sure nobody tried to steal children, and being Chuck E Cheese.

This is where our story begins.

(The following is an actual account of the first time Ruth ever got drunk, and vomited into the body of a Chuck E Cheese costume:)

I had never tasted alcohol. Or been kissed but that’s beside the point.

The evening started out innocent enough, I went to visit the 18 year old male stripper I had met the night before at a baseball game where I introduced myself as Mormon Ruth, a girl with high morals, and no desire for anything that wasn’t scripture reading and prayer groups.

He saw right through my Fashion Bug sweater vest and said he was having a *party that night and we should come.

*His parents were out of town and he’d love nothing more for me and my friend to come over to his completely vacant house and raid their liquor cabinet. I gasped and said NO WAY.

I arrived at 8.

We began shooting Southern Comfort like Civil War soldiers and telling stories of our sordid youth.

After 4 shots I was ready to show him why they called me Rad Ruth, and he was completely okay with that.

2 minutes into showing him I became ralphing Ruth and he ordered me out of his house.

I went home to my summer abode and puked on my besties white couch, and then fell asleep in her bath tub.

I had to be at work at 9am, and I was scheduled to appear as Chuck E at 11.

I donned my suit at 10:45 and told my boss it might be a bad idea.

She assured me that little Christopher would love it and to go ahead.

10:46, my vomit became self aware.

I left the magic changing spot in the costume, the ONLY costume, and headed to Christopher’s party.

10:48. Christopher never got to see Chuck E, because Chuck E fell over in front of the prize counter and puked inside said costume.

Not wanting to ruin childhood dreams I alerted my co-workers to the situation and attempted to get Upchuck Chuck E back to the disclosed location.

I arrived.

I was asked to go home.

I was also asked not to come back.

I obliged.

Needless to say that job and my innocence were both short lived.

The moral of the story is nothing good can ever come from drinking Southern Comfort and Chuck E Cheese birthday parties are entirely too overrated. 

  1. shellshokt said: I will never be able to look at Chuck E Cheese the same way again!