I have never been forced to watch a video about sexual harassment. I know what sexual harassment is. It’s when you tell someone who you like them and they don’t like you back. They say you’re harassing them sexually. I call it courting or taking a chance. You pick which side of the fence you fall on.
Like most adorable people, I have been sexually harassed. I’ve been grabbed, poked, rubbed, shuffled, placed into holes, scratched, groped, and flicked. My sexual harassers have come in many different shapes, sizes, and colors. I was afraid to react when it happened out of shock. But now that I know it wasn’t my fault for being so delicious it’s okay for me to talk about. Here are my stories of being sexually harassed–that I remember.
(Wanna take a trip to Six Flags? Expect these gentleman to leave with your wallet)
Location: Six Flags Great Adventures
Leaving out all of the times when I had buzz cuts and had strange women come up and rub my head (I think of 8 instances of this happening) I still receiving harassment of a sexual nature. The first one I remember happened at Six Flags Great Adventure. My memories of this theme park are lines, dehydration, lines for water, being cut in line, being cut with knives, large college girl breasts, and mysterious shoes hanging at the bottom of roller coasters wondering if the owner had to hop on one foot all the way home. I’ve been to that place quite a few times in my life. It was 25 minutes away from where I grew up. My dad could have just as easily put a hood over my head or knocked me out and said that it was somewhere much further away. I don’t think I ever got on more than 3 rides there at a time and at least half of them were closed for safety reasons.
I was waiting in line to get on the bumper cars. Yes, I’m at a huge theme park and I’m going on bumper cars. A carny ride. At least on that day I managed to convince myself to avoid that slide where you sit on a potato sack. So I’m in line and behind me are some Catholic boys. I’m not saying they’re Catholic because they kept pinching my ass. They were Catholic because they had the uniforms on. These boys had 3-4 years on me and decided to make my experience at an already horrific amusement park that much worse by pinching my butt. I couldn’t do anything about it. I was left there to fend for myself. Sometimes late at night I can still feel their 16-year-old thumb squeezing on my ass cheeks. I get scared again.
(Dorney Park has a hard-on for Snoopy. Scooby Doo too retro?)
Location: Dorney Park
Yet another experience happened to me at a theme park. This time it was Dorney Park, located in Pennsylvania. To be fair, this was probably karma. I had spent the day trying to knock off girl’s tops in the “Wet & Wild Water Kingdom” or whatever it is that they call it with hoses that shoot water. I was already pissed off that day because some black kid had shit in the wave pool so they had to close it down. How did I know it was a black kid? Every kid is black once they shit in a wave pool. Gross, I know. Things were about to get even worse.
I was walking to a roller coaster passed a group of teenagers. I was in middle school at the time, probably 14 years old. These teenagers were bigger and more adult. I knew this because their mommys and daddys let them wear ripped jeans. I walked by and felt a little bite on my butt. It felt like a bee had stung it. Then I heard laughing. I continued on and looked back. They were watching me walk away. Now I can’t be positive, but for some reason I remember a cute blonde being the one to pinch my butt. That’s the problem with butt harassment. We don’t have eyes in the back of our heads so the culprit can usually blame someone else if need be. This is one of those cases where it wasn’t really harassment. It was that sexy 18-year-old (I’m making her 18 for legal reasons) confessing her love for me. I probably should have gone over and talked to her, but like I said, she had ripped jeans. There was no telling what kind of damage she’d do to my shirt if she got her hands on it.
(Yes I work in a sweatshop. The hours are actually pretty good and it never gets too cold)
This one makes me feel like I can relate to the Women’s Liberation Movement. I was sexually harassed in the most fun place on earth, the office. I hadn’t been working long. I didn’t know who I could and could not trust yet. I learned fast that day who I could not count on.
I was filing, a task that they give retarded people with good balance. I was on a step-ladder so my ass was at about face level. One might argue that I was asking to have my ass smacked. I mean, it’s a great ass. You could throw a quarter at it and it would fall straight down. That might not sound so fantastic. Look at it this way, a fat ass would have the quarter get stuck in one of the rolls. That’s why my ass rules. Too much of a shoehorn rhyme there?
I turned around very carefully on my retard ladder to see a creepy black woman with blonde hair. Another natural blonde going after my ass? I must be a lucky boy! This woman had at least 50 years on me. She was and is not the kind of human being I want touching me or breathing on me. She had gross teeth. I hate gross teeth. How can you forget to brush your teeth? They’re right near your brain. That’s not far for the reminder information to travel.
(I’m trying to figure out the nationality of the cross-legged man near the barrel. I guess he’s white, the “cracker” because beside him is the barrel)
Location: Cracker Barrel
I didn’t used to mind Cracker Barrel restaurants. Now every time I enter one I have to be on my best guard. I walk, spinning in circles. I wear multiple layers of clothing. I’ve been scared into this.
I’m standing in the gift shop of the restaurant. If you’ve never been to one, there is a giant gift shop that you must walk through to get to your table. They sell lots of useless items that only a grandmother might want. Then they have Twilight Zone DVDs. I never thought they belonged near inspirational magnets or cherub figurines. I’m minding my own business waiting for a table when I feel two hands come on either side of me. Then the words “Goochy Goochy Goo” playfully being verbalized in synchronicity with the tickling that happened along my sides. I didn’t laugh. This wasn’t a good tickle. I turned around and was face to face with a boy about the same age as me. We were both 13-15 years old. A stare down began and then he said “Oops. I’m sorry.” and left. It was all a big misunderstanding. I had to forgive him, but now looking back at it for all I know he was a creepy midget. I hope not. I like to keep accurate records of every midget sighting I have. This would throw off my numbers.
Those are my sexual harassment stories. Well, the ones that involved actual touching. I’ve been sexually harassed thousands of times verbally. I think we all are. Someone probably felt sexually harassed reading this. For you, nice gams!
Please, feel free to share your stories of naughty fingers.