Worst. Case. Scenario.

While I'm laying in bed dusting the cobwebs of my cooter, I often play the "What If" game and the "Worst Case Scenario" game with myself, because let's face it... 9 out of 10 times, the worst case scenario does happen to me. Whomp. Whomp. 
If you have the misfortune of knowing me or follow my blog, you are very aware of this truth. However, for my new readers, a glowing example of my nightmare-ish luck would be the time I was hit by a line drive at the Blue Jays game and it cracked my skull (I know I haven't finished part 2 of that story). Or another oldie but goodie is when I was at my friend's keg party up north and there were 20 of us sitting around the campfire and I got up to do an impression of a woman having a fake orgasm (I've won contests at bars for this impression..don't be jealous of my classiness) and I accidentally backed into the bushes and fell off a small cliff which led me to being in a full leg brace for the entire summer of 2007. That was a pretty embarrassing moment when I tried to keep a poker face explaining to the specialist and my Mother how it happened. 
But... in the grand scheme of things, nothing was more embarrassing than last October when I accidentally sexted my brother after a few cocktails and NOT the guy I was going on a date with. I recently just started making eye contact with my brother again. 
Oh and in 2005, my cousin and I chose to sit separately from the rest of our family on our flight to Scotland so we could have booze for breakfast and not be judged. Intoxicated and sleep deprived, we landed in Heathrow Airport in London to make our connecting flight to Scotland where we became separated from everyone amongst the chaos in the terminal. We somehow drunkenly convinced ourselves we had 10 minutes to make our connecting flight to Glasgow, so we raced through the airport frantically as our vodka breath blew back in our face...We got to our "supposed" gate as our plane was about to leave and they quickly boarded us...Turns out they let us on the wrong flight and we landed in Scotland hungover, luggage-less, confused and without our family...3 hours early. Try explaining this story to the sober parents stuck in Heathrow Airport who were having security page us for 3 hours thinking we'd been kidnapped. If they only knew how bad my vodka/airplane peanut breath was, they would have known there was no chance of any kidnapper taking me...anywhere. Ever. They still don't find it funny. I do. 

Okay, I think that's enough evidence to back up my bad luck reference from earlier and I don't think you can blame me for letting my mind create some not-so-amazing scenarios for virtually any occasion. Like sometimes, when I do the dishes I stare into the sink and I think, "What would happen if a snake came up through the drain and wrapped around my neck and tried to strangle me?" It's these type of thoughts that make people who sleep with knives under their pillows or carry a pistol in their sock, fairly rational to me. 

Whoa, I'm way off topic. Let's try this again shall we? So Friday morning when I woke up, I was laying in bed dry humping my pillow spooning my body pillow, and playing with my phone. (Which is also code for stalking celebs on Twitter) and I got a request to add someone with the name 'EvanG' to my bbm. (Blackberry Messenger) 

Secretly hoping it was Biebs using the name 'EvanG' as an alias, I added him and sent a message which read, "Hey, who is this?" (It's clearly someone named Evan, but roll with me).

'EvanG' responds, "Look over your left shoulder." 

Well holy sweet Jesus above... If it's possible to shit your pants, barf, have a stroke and organ failure at the same time, I did. Those 10 seconds were quite dramatic as I stared at my phone and tried to side glance my attacker which OBVIOUSLY was not there. When a stranger sends you a creepy message when you're all alone, telling you to look over your left shoulder, you think murder...or at least I do. It's amazing the thoughts that can run through my head in a matter of seconds.

My main concern wasn't that I was about to die at the hands of 'EvanG', it was that the police would find me dead in my bed... laying in a pile of dirty clothes which I was too lazy to move the night before and I may or may not have had a half eaten container of Pizza Pizza Creamy Garlic dipping sauce on the pillow beside me....and no pizza. I didn't want to end up as the poor little dead spinster starring in her own episode of Hoarders. (*Side note-that dipping sauce is Jizz-tastic and you can't deny it.)

So long story long, (I don't have the brain capacity to cut a story short) there was obviously no sneaky killer hovering over my left shoulder and this guy Evan was at a work conference and accidentally added the wrong pin number and got me instead...lucky him...But Jesus, did I ever freak. 

THEN, as I'm watching Dateline later that evening my friend Chantelle was over washing my dishes, when I got a text from another number I didn't recognize simply saying "Hey". I just assumed it was 'EvanG' finding me simply irresistible as most men do. NOT. 

So I respond. "Hey, who is this?" 

He responds "Wayne. Are you single?" (Insert eye roll as I remembered meeting this guy on an online dating site. I believe he was from somewhere up in Douche-ville Ontario.)

Having drank a litre of Malibu Rum at this point, I respond, "No, but I just found out I have herpes and I'm pregnant. Rough weekend." 

Problem solved. Still haven't heard back from him and I'm perplexed as to why. It's very liberating being a complete ass via the written word. I have an arsenal of smart ass texts that I would love to share with the right person one day...until then, I'll just keep dreaming...or imagining the worst case scenario. 

Nanners Out.