one time, i had a friend over.
and by one time, i of course mean, last week.
we were in a hurry to leave, we were going to Sushi.
and you know how i feel about that.
i really should have known better than to use the bathroom at my apartment.
in hindsight i should've waited until i got to the restaurant. and then blamed it on someone else. naturally.
my intestines were more full than i anticipated.
much more full.
you know how this story ends.
its a good thing i have sympathetic friends who understand my bowels.
for a deed that took 10 minutes, i locked myself in the bathroom and plunged for 30 minutes.
my hand hurt.
but it still wasn't flushing properly.
story of my life.
i plunged it just enough so that all the yucky water was gone.
that way, the next person who used the toilet would see it 'wasn't working properly, hm...' and
A. think they did it, or
B. blame the pipes and plunge it for me.
well that was Friday night.
by Saturday afternoon, i had waited long enough.
i finally confessed to Mr. REA.
confessed is too strong of a word.
i played dumb.
said i don't know what happened to the toilet.
said i didn't know how to use a plunger.
he went in.
boom.
fixed.
like magic.
then he showed me a trick.
a Toilet Trick.
and i haven't clogged a toilet since.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
haircuts
if i was the guessing type, i would say Mr. REA gets a haircut, oh idk, about once a month.
i'd also say the man hasn't changed his hair style, oh idk, ever.
so on average, once a month i am expected to compliment him on his new haircut.
which looks exactly like his old haircut.
i made the mistake of not-noticing a new hair cut recently.
it wasn't until i ran my fingers through his hair, days later, when i asked him,
did you get a hair cut this afternoon?
he replied,
no. i got it cut 4 days ago.
meeee-yow!
so then he pouted.
and it wasn't the first time i'd fallen for that trick, unfortunately.
if he wasn't so dang cute when he's pouting, this might become a problem.
i'd also say the man hasn't changed his hair style, oh idk, ever.
so on average, once a month i am expected to compliment him on his new haircut.
which looks exactly like his old haircut.
i made the mistake of not-noticing a new hair cut recently.
it wasn't until i ran my fingers through his hair, days later, when i asked him,
did you get a hair cut this afternoon?
he replied,
no. i got it cut 4 days ago.
meeee-yow!
so then he pouted.
and it wasn't the first time i'd fallen for that trick, unfortunately.
if he wasn't so dang cute when he's pouting, this might become a problem.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
The TTT
i hope you had an enjoyable holiday weekend.
i forced Mr. REA to engage in an event that will forever be remembered as the Traumatic Turkey Trot.
or, the TTT, for short.
if there's one thing i love, it's a good abbreviation. and alliterations.
i've wanted to do a Turkey Trot since i first heard such a thing existed.
i registered us months ago, when the announcement was first made.
this Turkey Trot was a 5k, or 3.1 miles. otherwise known as a light jog.
starting at 8am.
on a non-work-day holiday.
Mr. REA was less than thrilled.
the man loves his sleep.
and isn't a huge fan of cardio workouts either.
in the days leading up to the Trot, Mr. REA used every trick in the book to try to escape:
- faking an illness
- claiming old age
- joint pain
he even offered to pay me double the registration fee.
i believe the old saying goes,
you can't bullshit a bullshitter
i claimed this was the last thing i would make him do this year.
good thing there are less than 4 weeks left in this year.
i already have our next run planned.
as Mr. REA continuously reminded me, we ended up traveling a total of 6.2 miles, running/walking that morning. We parked at the start line, ran, then had to walk back to the car.
apparently this 6.2 mile workout entitled Mr. REA to an immediate 2hour nap, and complaining rights for the next 72 hours.
did i mention we now have matching, bright orange T shirts with a huge turkey wearing sneakers on it?
i couldn't be happier.
i forced Mr. REA to engage in an event that will forever be remembered as the Traumatic Turkey Trot.
or, the TTT, for short.
if there's one thing i love, it's a good abbreviation. and alliterations.
i've wanted to do a Turkey Trot since i first heard such a thing existed.
i registered us months ago, when the announcement was first made.
this Turkey Trot was a 5k, or 3.1 miles. otherwise known as a light jog.
starting at 8am.
on a non-work-day holiday.
Mr. REA was less than thrilled.
the man loves his sleep.
and isn't a huge fan of cardio workouts either.
in the days leading up to the Trot, Mr. REA used every trick in the book to try to escape:
- faking an illness
- claiming old age
- joint pain
he even offered to pay me double the registration fee.
i believe the old saying goes,
you can't bullshit a bullshitter
i claimed this was the last thing i would make him do this year.
good thing there are less than 4 weeks left in this year.
i already have our next run planned.
as Mr. REA continuously reminded me, we ended up traveling a total of 6.2 miles, running/walking that morning. We parked at the start line, ran, then had to walk back to the car.
apparently this 6.2 mile workout entitled Mr. REA to an immediate 2hour nap, and complaining rights for the next 72 hours.
did i mention we now have matching, bright orange T shirts with a huge turkey wearing sneakers on it?
i couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
healthy competition
i'll start with this-
i love playing games.
board games.
card games.
trivia games.
sport games.
word games.
memory games.
theatre games.
drinking games.
you name it. they're all my favorite, in no particular order.
to this day, here is the short list of games i have beaten Mr. REA in:
Rummikub - "The Fast Moving Tile Game" it's an old family favorite. typically a newbie can't really win without having played for a while. there are a lot of rules to it. it was only natural for me to win. i've been playing my entire life.
ski-ball - only maybe my most favorite game of all time. or at least that's what i'm thinking once every 6 years when i find myself playing it at a bar or something. note to self: play this game more often.
Scattergories - out of the millions of times we've played this, i have won once. one single time. and he became so depressed that we had to play again so he could beat me. ugh. he's so dang cute when he's pouting.
and to this day, here are the games Mr. REA has beaten me in:
Miniature golf - i'll rule this loss by pleading unfair athletic advantage. my math skills are also so poor that he probably carried the Ones too many times and tricked me.
Ski ball - after i beat him 3 times in a row, we were out of dollar bills. he scrounged the bar to get more change, then played until he had the All-Time high score and won a free round. very mature, Mr. REA. very mature.
Scattergories - every. single. time. except the time i just mentioned, when he pouted.
Trivia - the only ones i got right were the answers i memorized from the last time i played. is that considered cheating? is it still considered cheating if it doesn't help you win?
Speed - the card game, not the drug. in my defense, the cards were brand new and very slick.
Air Hockey- we even played a round of Lefty, and he still beat me by the same margin as Righty. note: we are both right-handed.
Ping Pong - i've run out of excuses.
it doesn't matter who wins, it's just fun to play.
...right?
i love playing games.
board games.
card games.
trivia games.
sport games.
word games.
memory games.
theatre games.
drinking games.
you name it. they're all my favorite, in no particular order.
to this day, here is the short list of games i have beaten Mr. REA in:
Rummikub - "The Fast Moving Tile Game" it's an old family favorite. typically a newbie can't really win without having played for a while. there are a lot of rules to it. it was only natural for me to win. i've been playing my entire life.
ski-ball - only maybe my most favorite game of all time. or at least that's what i'm thinking once every 6 years when i find myself playing it at a bar or something. note to self: play this game more often.
Scattergories - out of the millions of times we've played this, i have won once. one single time. and he became so depressed that we had to play again so he could beat me. ugh. he's so dang cute when he's pouting.
and to this day, here are the games Mr. REA has beaten me in:
Miniature golf - i'll rule this loss by pleading unfair athletic advantage. my math skills are also so poor that he probably carried the Ones too many times and tricked me.
Ski ball - after i beat him 3 times in a row, we were out of dollar bills. he scrounged the bar to get more change, then played until he had the All-Time high score and won a free round. very mature, Mr. REA. very mature.
Scattergories - every. single. time. except the time i just mentioned, when he pouted.
Trivia - the only ones i got right were the answers i memorized from the last time i played. is that considered cheating? is it still considered cheating if it doesn't help you win?
Speed - the card game, not the drug. in my defense, the cards were brand new and very slick.
Air Hockey- we even played a round of Lefty, and he still beat me by the same margin as Righty. note: we are both right-handed.
Ping Pong - i've run out of excuses.
it doesn't matter who wins, it's just fun to play.
...right?
Monday, November 26, 2012
sushi
i should probably tell you that i love sushi.
unless you already knew that, which would make this a reminder.
i heart sushi.
i really do.
and now i've finally found myself a man, who doesn't.
gasp.
which has turned my love for sushi, into a love affair.
i strategically plan when i will eat sushi, mostly when he's busy or out of town.
very similar to a forbidden love.
i find myself leaving out details, sneaking around the topic.
Me: going to dinner with G, be back later!
REA: have fun! where are you girls going?
Mouth:
-silent pause- oh idk, not sure yet...
Mind:
SU-SHI! SU-SHI! SU-SHI!
i guess i'm more full of secrets than i thought.
unless you already knew that, which would make this a reminder.
i heart sushi.
i really do.
and now i've finally found myself a man, who doesn't.
gasp.
which has turned my love for sushi, into a love affair.
i strategically plan when i will eat sushi, mostly when he's busy or out of town.
very similar to a forbidden love.
i find myself leaving out details, sneaking around the topic.
Me: going to dinner with G, be back later!
REA: have fun! where are you girls going?
Mouth:
-silent pause- oh idk, not sure yet...
Mind:
SU-SHI! SU-SHI! SU-SHI!
i guess i'm more full of secrets than i thought.
Monday, November 19, 2012
past due
Mr. REA will not use anything that is passed it's printed expiration.
no exceptions.
this specifically applies to food and medicines.
he asked me for Neosporin a while back.
i dug in the cabinet and handed him the tube...that i bought 8 years ago.
it turns out, Neosporin typically expires 1 year after it's purchased.
...who knew?
this caused him to gently suggest that i clean out my medicine cabinet.
he's cute.
so i did.
as a general note, i'll typically do anything a cute boy suggests.
and it just so happens, all.of.the.items.were.expired.
anti-itch creams
anti-allergy pills
pain relievers
pain killers
cough syrups
cough drops
antiseptic wipes
the list goes on.
and not by a few months either.
i'm talking years.
on average, 5-8 years passed their expirations.
...and i was still using them.
Mr. REA was mortified.
i was made to throw all of it away.
it pained me.
the cabinet is now empty, and flu season is among us.
look who's laughing meow.
no exceptions.
this specifically applies to food and medicines.
he asked me for Neosporin a while back.
i dug in the cabinet and handed him the tube...that i bought 8 years ago.
it turns out, Neosporin typically expires 1 year after it's purchased.
...who knew?
this caused him to gently suggest that i clean out my medicine cabinet.
he's cute.
so i did.
as a general note, i'll typically do anything a cute boy suggests.
and it just so happens, all.of.the.items.were.expired.
anti-itch creams
anti-allergy pills
pain relievers
pain killers
cough syrups
cough drops
antiseptic wipes
the list goes on.
and not by a few months either.
i'm talking years.
on average, 5-8 years passed their expirations.
...and i was still using them.
Mr. REA was mortified.
i was made to throw all of it away.
it pained me.
the cabinet is now empty, and flu season is among us.
look who's laughing meow.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Game of Boring.
over the course of our courtship, Mr. REA has taken the liberty of introducing me to TV shows that i otherwise would have never watched.
these shows include:
Curb your Enthusiasm
The Sopranos
Mad Men
and most recently:
Game of Thrones
i know that it's, whatever, a critically acclaimed show, but if someone asked me to describe what it was about, i would say this:
Game of Thrones is full of incest, nudity, murder, rape and other disgusting things. it is Lord of the Rings, set in Medieval Europe. the only difference being, that instead of having some toady-looking bald man searching for a ring, the 7 kingdoms are trying to take back a throne.
yawn.
Mr. REA can't figure out why i fall asleep every time we're watching it.
a. it's boring.
b. i don't even like watching TV
c. it's boring.
soooooo it's a good thing he's cute.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
doppelgänger
a few weeks ago Mr. REA and i were out on the town for a friend's birthday.
because the man refuses to take public transportation, no matter how much more convenient it is, we circled the area for an hour looking for parking.
on our walk to the bar, the streets were roaring with drunks. people who probably spent their entire Saturday watching sports and boozing.
aka my favorite kinds of people.
now this is where things get exciting.
we passed by two women, sitting on the porch outside of a store front.
correction: women is not the correct term, they were young female drunks.
one was standing saying:
no no, its totally fine. no one will even notice. like whatever, its totally fine. you're my friend.
and the other, was squatting and peeing all over the sidewalk.
Mr. REA's response:
disgusting. she's a grown-ass women, can't even handle her alcohol.
and in truth, um yes it was totally disgusting.
but in her defense, sometimes you just don't know what's happening to your body. like puberty, only not.
Mr. REA:
is that what you're like when i'm out of town?
Mouth:
what? ew no. totally gross. ugh disgusting. ew.
Mind:
of course not, that's what i act like when i'm out of town.
he can never know my secrets.
because the man refuses to take public transportation, no matter how much more convenient it is, we circled the area for an hour looking for parking.
on our walk to the bar, the streets were roaring with drunks. people who probably spent their entire Saturday watching sports and boozing.
aka my favorite kinds of people.
now this is where things get exciting.
we passed by two women, sitting on the porch outside of a store front.
correction: women is not the correct term, they were young female drunks.
one was standing saying:
no no, its totally fine. no one will even notice. like whatever, its totally fine. you're my friend.
and the other, was squatting and peeing all over the sidewalk.
Mr. REA's response:
disgusting. she's a grown-ass women, can't even handle her alcohol.
and in truth, um yes it was totally disgusting.
but in her defense, sometimes you just don't know what's happening to your body. like puberty, only not.
Mr. REA:
is that what you're like when i'm out of town?
Mouth:
what? ew no. totally gross. ugh disgusting. ew.
Mind:
of course not, that's what i act like when i'm out of town.
he can never know my secrets.
Monday, November 5, 2012
survivor
well. i made it out alive, in case you were wondering how last weekend went.
before Mr. REA arrived in Hometown, I coached BFF in what not to say.
The List included:
- any time i've thrown up from drinking
- any time i've talked in tongues, as a result of drinking
- any time i've fallen asleep at a bar, or in a car, as a result of drinking
- any time i've wet the bed
- any time i've wet the floor
- any of the events from Other Brother's wedding
- any of the times i've talked about toilets
- any of the times i've lost personal items, as a result of drinking
- any weird obsessions i may or may not have
- any thing i've ever considered a secret, no matter how old it is.
BFFs response:
then what the heck am I supposed to say to him?
who does he think you are?
so thanks for going with the flow, BFF.
and by flow, i of course mean lie.
i knew i could count on you.
and that night, before going to sleep, Mr. REA rolled over and said,
tomorrow, don't introduce me as your friend. tell them I'm your boyfriend.
and there you have it, ladies and gentlemen.
before Mr. REA arrived in Hometown, I coached BFF in what not to say.
The List included:
- any time i've thrown up from drinking
- any time i've talked in tongues, as a result of drinking
- any time i've fallen asleep at a bar, or in a car, as a result of drinking
- any time i've wet the bed
- any time i've wet the floor
- any of the events from Other Brother's wedding
- any of the times i've talked about toilets
- any of the times i've lost personal items, as a result of drinking
- any weird obsessions i may or may not have
- any thing i've ever considered a secret, no matter how old it is.
BFFs response:
then what the heck am I supposed to say to him?
who does he think you are?
so thanks for going with the flow, BFF.
and by flow, i of course mean lie.
i knew i could count on you.
and that night, before going to sleep, Mr. REA rolled over and said,
tomorrow, don't introduce me as your friend. tell them I'm your boyfriend.
and there you have it, ladies and gentlemen.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
post #70
tonight I will be boarding a flight back to Hometown for Sister's wedding.
tomorrow night, Mr. REA will be boarding a flight to Hometown for Sister's wedding.
tomorrow night, Mr. REA will meet my family.
tomorrow night, I will over-drink.
tomorrow night, I will be staying in a hotel with Mr. REA.
tomorrow night, history may repeat itself.
let the games begin.
tomorrow night, Mr. REA will be boarding a flight to Hometown for Sister's wedding.
tomorrow night, Mr. REA will meet my family.
tomorrow night, I will over-drink.
tomorrow night, I will be staying in a hotel with Mr. REA.
tomorrow night, history may repeat itself.
let the games begin.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
game day
I went to my Alma Mater's football game and spent the majority of each quarter wondering one of the two following thoughts:
a. where are the cute boys at?
b. what food am i going to eat next?
i love sports.
i love sports.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
toilet trouble
so remember that time i clogged the sink with my barf after a long night of drinking?
the next afternoon, just as i was thinking there was nothing left in me, i clogged the toilet with something else.
because Mr. REA was out of town, i let the trouble fester. i thought the mess would just sort-itself-out.
very lady-like, i know.
and, well, it didn't.
on Monday i broke down and called a plumber.
it's what i refer to as a low point.
the lady on the line asked me if i wanted to talk to my landlord first.
no, no. please. i'll just pay you. don't call him. i'm embarrassed.
her response: oh sweetie, no need to be embarrassed. it's not your fault the pipes are jammed.
cha right. little does she know.
oh yes ma'am. yes it is absolutely my fault. just send over your best guy.
$189 to plunge a toilet.
i'm going to go broke if i keep playing this little game.
ugh.
the next afternoon, just as i was thinking there was nothing left in me, i clogged the toilet with something else.
because Mr. REA was out of town, i let the trouble fester. i thought the mess would just sort-itself-out.
very lady-like, i know.
and, well, it didn't.
on Monday i broke down and called a plumber.
it's what i refer to as a low point.
the lady on the line asked me if i wanted to talk to my landlord first.
no, no. please. i'll just pay you. don't call him. i'm embarrassed.
her response: oh sweetie, no need to be embarrassed. it's not your fault the pipes are jammed.
cha right. little does she know.
oh yes ma'am. yes it is absolutely my fault. just send over your best guy.
$189 to plunge a toilet.
i'm going to go broke if i keep playing this little game.
ugh.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
still waiting
hi guys.
i'm one month & 8 days into being 25.
all i have to show for myself is a label maker and Nike workout clothes.
and i'm still waiting for puberty to hit so my boobs will start growing and my acne will clear out.
about how long is that process supposed to take?
i've been waiting for about 10 years now.
good things come to those who wait.
right?
i'm one month & 8 days into being 25.
all i have to show for myself is a label maker and Nike workout clothes.
and i'm still waiting for puberty to hit so my boobs will start growing and my acne will clear out.
about how long is that process supposed to take?
i've been waiting for about 10 years now.
good things come to those who wait.
right?
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Q & A
Q. What do you get for the man in your life who has nicer things than you do?
A. An ice cream cake and a blow job.
Happy Birthday, Mr. REA.
A. An ice cream cake and a blow job.
Happy Birthday, Mr. REA.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
last night.
three things i love:
G
bars
new bars
Mr. REA was out of town this weekend, so i met up with G to check out a new bar in The City.
i spent most of the night chatting it up with mediocre men
blah blah blah blah blah
where do you work?
what do you do?
do you come here often?
all that bull crap bar-chatter.
we left and went, idk, someplace else.
some bar with two-levels.
i hate bars with two-levels.
all i remember about that place was that i got lost trying to find my way out.
i couldn't find the stupid staircase.
ahem. let me rephrase that,
i was too drunk to find the exit.
honesty is important.
then i got into a cab.
i think i fell asleep.
and woke up when he pulled into my driveway.
i couldn't figure out how he knew where i lived.
i must have told him.
he followed me up the stairs to my door.
it made me a little nervous.
he probably thought i couldn't make it all the way up without falling over.
what a gentleman.
i don't actually remember if i paid him or not.
maybe thats why he was following me.
unsolved mystery.
the night ended with me on the toilet, barfing on the floor. on my pants. on my underwear.
yet another common theme.
i continued barfing into the sink. it clogged the drain. i turned on the water to help with the congestion. this resulted in an entire sink full of barfy-barf. at least i had the sense to pin back my bitty-bangs.
i wobbled into my bedroom and put on whatever clothes were nearby.
passed out.
my apartment isn't very big, and the scent sure does carry. i was awoken throughout the night by the looming stench coming from the bathroom. it was impossible to ignore.
barf-breath apartment.
disgusting.
in the late afternoon, i finally decided to get out of bed and face my demons.
i noticed blood all over my foot.
it appears someone stepped on my toe last night.
or i tripped on something.
or something got dropped on my foot.
or maybe it's someone else's blood.
unsolved mystery.
i stared at the mess in the bathroom for a while and pondered what my life has amounted to. i quickly moved on to a much more important topic: what the hell did i eat yesterday?
there's nothing more humbling than scooping your own vomit into the trash can, then having to scrape off the dried-up stubborn pieces with about a thousand Clorox wipes.
if Saturday nights came more than once a week, i think i'd be dead by now.
or in rehab.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
reality check
i'm officially at that stage in my life where everyone i know is getting married.
or having a baby.
or both.
i'm torn between wanting to be a part of that club, and wanting to stay this fabulous forever.
what it really comes down to is this:
i don't want to tie myself down, buuuuuut i also don't want to have to work all day, 5 days a week and spend my own hard-earned money on all of the fancy things i want.
isn't marriage all about spending someone else's money?
or am i missing the point entirely?
or having a baby.
or both.
i'm torn between wanting to be a part of that club, and wanting to stay this fabulous forever.
what it really comes down to is this:
i don't want to tie myself down, buuuuuut i also don't want to have to work all day, 5 days a week and spend my own hard-earned money on all of the fancy things i want.
isn't marriage all about spending someone else's money?
or am i missing the point entirely?
Friday, September 28, 2012
opportunity costs
or as i like to say, the cost of attendance
wax - 90 - omg. ouch. you're welcome gentlemen
gel mani pedi - 60 - my new favorite thing ever.
like ever ever.
hair - 100 - ugh whatever.
new outfit - 100 - i have an addiction.
i was recently out with M and spent a small fortune on a new outfit. naturally i picked up an extra new outfit. i can never walk away with just one new outfit. its slightly more scandalous and doesn't match The Mints.
ugh whatever.
I have other shoes.
is there anything better than a new outfit?
except two new outfits.
so really, is there anything better than 2 new outfits?
ugh.
it's so expensive being a girl.
wax - 90 - omg. ouch. you're welcome gentlemen
gel mani pedi - 60 - my new favorite thing ever.
like ever ever.
hair - 100 - ugh whatever.
new outfit - 100 - i have an addiction.
i was recently out with M and spent a small fortune on a new outfit. naturally i picked up an extra new outfit. i can never walk away with just one new outfit. its slightly more scandalous and doesn't match The Mints.
ugh whatever.
I have other shoes.
is there anything better than a new outfit?
except two new outfits.
so really, is there anything better than 2 new outfits?
ugh.
it's so expensive being a girl.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
MIA: Stamos, John.
You remember John Stamos right?
The PBR guy.
well,
maybe the pressure of dating a relationship blogger such as myself was too much for him.
maybe he didn't want our lives to be put under the microscope of the Internet.
maybe he has something against girls who have hair that looks like Meg Ryan-slash-Kristin Wigg.
maybe he has a two-date rule.
maybe he got a new phone and lost all the old numbers.
maybe he has the same phone, but a different number.
maybe he moved out of The City.
maybe he actually had a girlfriend this entire time.
who knows.
but what i do know, is that i texted him a few weeks ago asking if he was ignoring me.
and can you believe that he never texted me back?
so that's that.
we could have been something, Mr. Stamos.
i'll never look at Full House the same way again.
The PBR guy.
well,
maybe the pressure of dating a relationship blogger such as myself was too much for him.
maybe he didn't want our lives to be put under the microscope of the Internet.
maybe he has something against girls who have hair that looks like Meg Ryan-slash-Kristin Wigg.
maybe he has a two-date rule.
maybe he got a new phone and lost all the old numbers.
maybe he has the same phone, but a different number.
maybe he moved out of The City.
maybe he actually had a girlfriend this entire time.
who knows.
but what i do know, is that i texted him a few weeks ago asking if he was ignoring me.
and can you believe that he never texted me back?
so that's that.
we could have been something, Mr. Stamos.
i'll never look at Full House the same way again.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
twenty-three
in the spirit of recalling recent birthday memories, here's another one.
good ol' 23.
i had just moved to The City.
Gman came out for the weekend.
we went to a very fancy seafood dinner down at The Tad.
at that stage of my life, my drink of choice was the ever-classy Long Island Ice Tea.
you can already tell where this story is heading, can't you?
well then, ill keep it brief.
sort of.
i ordered one Long Island after another, as is tradition.
on the final drink, i tripped on my way back from the bar. spilled the entire thing. everywhere.
instead of cleaning it up, i went back to the bar and demanded another one.
a free one.
i told the bartender my sob story.
he fell for it.
i'm very convincing when i'm drunk.
then, as is tradition, i began to feel sick.
extremely sick.
so i went to the bathroom, and as Gman love to retell this story,
"i stood over the toilet, with my head down, and my dress pulled up in the back"
aka my butt was up in the air - hello undies!
and my face was in the toilet.
it was what i refer to as a False Alarm.
there was no barfy-barf.
yet.
then we got into a cab to go home.
remember how cabs usually make me car sick?
i've mentioned that before.
this was no exception.
barfed. out. the. window.
cab driver yelled at me.
i barfed more.
Gman tipped him a little somethin' extra to apologize.
we got home.
i went into the bathroom.
i stripped down.
i layed on the bathroom floor.
buck naked.
or is it butt naked?
i never remember.
bottom line is - i had no clothes on.
Gman came in.
picked me up.
carried me to my room.
dressed me in my pjs.
and tucked me into bed like the classy girl i am.
(you may have noticed a pattern here. men usually carry me to bed, dress me and tuck me in.)
and in the morning, we ate what i can only describe as Dim Sum Diaharrea.
i will never eat in Chinatown ever, ever again. thank you.
this happens to be the same birthday when Gman and i rode a tandem bike across The Famous Bridge and i realized we had major trust issues.
23, you cray-cray.
good ol' 23.
i had just moved to The City.
Gman came out for the weekend.
we went to a very fancy seafood dinner down at The Tad.
at that stage of my life, my drink of choice was the ever-classy Long Island Ice Tea.
you can already tell where this story is heading, can't you?
well then, ill keep it brief.
sort of.
i ordered one Long Island after another, as is tradition.
on the final drink, i tripped on my way back from the bar. spilled the entire thing. everywhere.
instead of cleaning it up, i went back to the bar and demanded another one.
a free one.
i told the bartender my sob story.
he fell for it.
i'm very convincing when i'm drunk.
then, as is tradition, i began to feel sick.
extremely sick.
so i went to the bathroom, and as Gman love to retell this story,
"i stood over the toilet, with my head down, and my dress pulled up in the back"
aka my butt was up in the air - hello undies!
and my face was in the toilet.
it was what i refer to as a False Alarm.
there was no barfy-barf.
yet.
then we got into a cab to go home.
remember how cabs usually make me car sick?
i've mentioned that before.
this was no exception.
barfed. out. the. window.
cab driver yelled at me.
i barfed more.
Gman tipped him a little somethin' extra to apologize.
we got home.
i went into the bathroom.
i stripped down.
i layed on the bathroom floor.
buck naked.
or is it butt naked?
i never remember.
bottom line is - i had no clothes on.
Gman came in.
picked me up.
carried me to my room.
dressed me in my pjs.
and tucked me into bed like the classy girl i am.
(you may have noticed a pattern here. men usually carry me to bed, dress me and tuck me in.)
and in the morning, we ate what i can only describe as Dim Sum Diaharrea.
i will never eat in Chinatown ever, ever again. thank you.
this happens to be the same birthday when Gman and i rode a tandem bike across The Famous Bridge and i realized we had major trust issues.
23, you cray-cray.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
the end.
well friends. it seems that i have become too emotionally invested in mr. REA to continue maintaining an online dating profile. For this reason, i am now removing myself from The Website.
it was really entertaining while it lasted.
like really, really entertaining.
good thing the Real World is still full of just as many creeps.
many of whom i work with.
lucky me.
it was really entertaining while it lasted.
like really, really entertaining.
good thing the Real World is still full of just as many creeps.
many of whom i work with.
lucky me.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Two-Two
being the nostalgic sap that i am, lets take a minute to revisit my 22nd birthday.
it was a tu-tu party.
2-2
two-two
tu-tu
get it?
everyone was supposed to wear tu-tus.
only some did.
whatevs.
i was drinking beer out of a large goblet all night.
the thing was the size of a fish bowl.
i'm not even kidding.
one friend put another friend into a full-nelson.
i thought he killed him.
i cried.
found out he was still alive.
got mad at him for 'lying to me'
dumped a beer on him.
ran out of the house.
BFF suggested it was time to leave.
we went to IHOP.
they're open 24 hours.
at 2 am my friends sat down to a lovely breakfast.
and i continued to cry all night.
in public.
in a tu tu.
it was my party, i could cry if i wanted to.
cry if i wanted to.
cry if i wanted to.
you might have cried too, if it happened to you.
it was a tu-tu party.
2-2
two-two
tu-tu
get it?
everyone was supposed to wear tu-tus.
only some did.
whatevs.
i was drinking beer out of a large goblet all night.
the thing was the size of a fish bowl.
i'm not even kidding.
one friend put another friend into a full-nelson.
i thought he killed him.
i cried.
found out he was still alive.
got mad at him for 'lying to me'
dumped a beer on him.
ran out of the house.
BFF suggested it was time to leave.
we went to IHOP.
they're open 24 hours.
at 2 am my friends sat down to a lovely breakfast.
and i continued to cry all night.
in public.
in a tu tu.
it was my party, i could cry if i wanted to.
cry if i wanted to.
cry if i wanted to.
you might have cried too, if it happened to you.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
the million dollar question
last week Mr. REA asked me:
what's the drunkest you've ever been?
and would you believe that i laughed so hard i started crying?
right there in the car.
on our way home from dinner.
laughed so hard i cried.
i continued laughing so as to avoid the question entirely.
an honest response would have been:
every time i drink it's the drunkest i've ever been.
but instead i muttered:
oh idk, at my mom's holiday party a few years ago. two years ago actually. recently.
and i just left it at that. i spared myself the embarrassment of sharing the entire story.
i purposely left out every single detail about how i drank myself into a frenzy and owned the dance floor that night.
i also omitted the part where i tripped over a table, then puked all over my underwear in the public restroom.
and locked myself in the stall.
and had to be carried out.
and lost my shoes.
and woke up screaming because i thought i was in a straight jacket.
it was a bathrobe.
and the worst part of that story is, that isn't even the drunkest i've ever been. it was just the first thing i thought of after i pushed aside the hotel situation from last month...which he still doesn't know about.
i'll have to be the drunkest i've ever been, to ever share these stories with Mr. REA. that's for sure.
plus its not considered lying if you're just leaving out some details, right?
what's the drunkest you've ever been?
and would you believe that i laughed so hard i started crying?
right there in the car.
on our way home from dinner.
laughed so hard i cried.
i continued laughing so as to avoid the question entirely.
an honest response would have been:
every time i drink it's the drunkest i've ever been.
but instead i muttered:
oh idk, at my mom's holiday party a few years ago. two years ago actually. recently.
and i just left it at that. i spared myself the embarrassment of sharing the entire story.
i purposely left out every single detail about how i drank myself into a frenzy and owned the dance floor that night.
i also omitted the part where i tripped over a table, then puked all over my underwear in the public restroom.
and locked myself in the stall.
and had to be carried out.
and lost my shoes.
and woke up screaming because i thought i was in a straight jacket.
it was a bathrobe.
and the worst part of that story is, that isn't even the drunkest i've ever been. it was just the first thing i thought of after i pushed aside the hotel situation from last month...which he still doesn't know about.
i'll have to be the drunkest i've ever been, to ever share these stories with Mr. REA. that's for sure.
plus its not considered lying if you're just leaving out some details, right?
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
g-man
i'll be the first to admit that i have a very odd relationship with someone i previously dated.
aka: i'm friends with my ex.
it happens right?
or maybe we're just lucky that way.
anyway. he's still the first person i message when i've got something to share. whether it's a funny story from work, a disappointing date, a stubborn bowel movement or just a silly movie reference.
i know he reads this thing too. that little creep. he likes to keep up on how disastrous my dating scene has been after i dumped him. he gets a kick out of it. he's sick like that.
he mentioned recently, that he was embarrassed to have dated someone like me. or maybe he said, he was embarrassed to have dated me. not someone like me, just me. i can't remember now. sorry.
but oh how the tables have turned. now he's the one that's embarrassed for me.
i might usually take a comment like this very personally. but let's be real. this is coming from a man who refers to his own mother as Trish Delish.
you better not let your father hear you talking like that. perv.
and yes, Oedipus, i am referring to you.
i'm glad we're friends. sort of.
aka: i'm friends with my ex.
it happens right?
or maybe we're just lucky that way.
anyway. he's still the first person i message when i've got something to share. whether it's a funny story from work, a disappointing date, a stubborn bowel movement or just a silly movie reference.
i know he reads this thing too. that little creep. he likes to keep up on how disastrous my dating scene has been after i dumped him. he gets a kick out of it. he's sick like that.
he mentioned recently, that he was embarrassed to have dated someone like me. or maybe he said, he was embarrassed to have dated me. not someone like me, just me. i can't remember now. sorry.
but oh how the tables have turned. now he's the one that's embarrassed for me.
i might usually take a comment like this very personally. but let's be real. this is coming from a man who refers to his own mother as Trish Delish.
you better not let your father hear you talking like that. perv.
and yes, Oedipus, i am referring to you.
i'm glad we're friends. sort of.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
back to school
i don't want to give away my profession, for fear of not being taken seriously as a relationship blogger, but i have something to admit.
i only work 9 months out of the year. this has allowed me 3 months of absolute freedom. but unfortunately all great things must come to an end.
i just hope that my return to The Daily Grind doesn't interfere with the binge drinking and shameless flirting.
i only work 9 months out of the year. this has allowed me 3 months of absolute freedom. but unfortunately all great things must come to an end.
i just hope that my return to The Daily Grind doesn't interfere with the binge drinking and shameless flirting.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
happy birthday to me
i know you're just dying to know what a single gal like me did to ring in my new year.
well friends,
i woke up alone.
i brewed myself some special birthday coffee.
i mixed myself a special birthday protein shake and sprinkled in some of my very special birthday Miralax powder. yum. nothing like soft stools on your Big Day.
i accidentally picked out a special birthday outfit that didn't include a skirt with pockets.
now that was a birthday bummer.
i brought special birthday cookies to work and i only shared them with the coworkers i like.
i had special birthday mail waiting for me when i got home. thanks for the label-maker mom.
i ended the night with a very lovely birthday dinner with Mr. REA, where he presented me with a very special birthday gift of...workout clothes.
nice one, Mr. REA.
well friends,
i woke up alone.
i brewed myself some special birthday coffee.
i mixed myself a special birthday protein shake and sprinkled in some of my very special birthday Miralax powder. yum. nothing like soft stools on your Big Day.
i accidentally picked out a special birthday outfit that didn't include a skirt with pockets.
now that was a birthday bummer.
i brought special birthday cookies to work and i only shared them with the coworkers i like.
i had special birthday mail waiting for me when i got home. thanks for the label-maker mom.
i ended the night with a very lovely birthday dinner with Mr. REA, where he presented me with a very special birthday gift of...workout clothes.
nice one, Mr. REA.
Monday, September 3, 2012
25
Well well well, I'm in the last waking hours of my 24th year of life. yikes.
Other Brother is married.
Sister is engaged.
Sister also wants to kick me off the phone plan.
Brother is in love.
BFF is in love.
and I'm probably banned from all Holiday Inn Expresses and affiliated franchises.
that's really all I've got to say about that.
Tomorrow is a new start.
except that I'll have the same job, same apartment, same friends, same car, same diet, same hair, same everything.
cheers to the Mid-20's.
Other Brother is married.
Sister is engaged.
Sister also wants to kick me off the phone plan.
Brother is in love.
BFF is in love.
and I'm probably banned from all Holiday Inn Expresses and affiliated franchises.
that's really all I've got to say about that.
Tomorrow is a new start.
except that I'll have the same job, same apartment, same friends, same car, same diet, same hair, same everything.
cheers to the Mid-20's.
a reflection
it's the eve of my 25th birthday.
i wanted to write a post dedicated to recapping my previous years' escapades.
but before you become invested and things get emotional, i have a confession.
i am extremely hungover.
if anybody needs me i'll be taking another nap.
happy labor day.
i wanted to write a post dedicated to recapping my previous years' escapades.
but before you become invested and things get emotional, i have a confession.
i am extremely hungover.
if anybody needs me i'll be taking another nap.
happy labor day.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
oh look, another poem
welcome to the 2nd installment of my poetry expo.
I call this one, Relationships.
Rather
Entertaining
Love
Affairs
Turned
Into
Obnoxious
Neurotic
Sexual
Habits
In
Public
Spaces
I call this one, Relationships.
Rather
Entertaining
Love
Affairs
Turned
Into
Obnoxious
Neurotic
Sexual
Habits
In
Public
Spaces
Monday, August 27, 2012
yolo
one (of the many) things I love about my friend G: she's always up for a night on the town.
we typically venture out to an area of The City where all men wear gingham button up shirts, or plaid.
on my way over to meet her, via public transportation, a caught a large seemingly homeless man, giving me the up-and-down.
bow-chikka-wow-wow
note: i say 'seemingly homeless' because i am not one to jump to conclusions. the man had a cart full of garbage and was carrying a large Hefty bag. he also smelled like a dumpster. i kept my distance.
is there anything more awkward than making eye contact while someone is checking you out?
he gave me the head nod, then said
YOLO
ohhh Mr. Yolo. I may only live once, but even if I was a cat with 9 lives, you would never be my type. im sure you understand.
our favorite bar was closed.
after i recovered from my panic attack, we found another establishment.
the night remained uneventful until we left that scene and headed down the street, on foot.
i high-fived a cute drunk boy.
then i heard someone shouting my name.
note: my name is extremely common. thanks mom and dad.
the shouting continued.
a car pulled over and out popped a friend of Mr. REA.
what a small world.
we called Mr. REA and flirted with unattractive men for free drinks until he showed up.
and at closing time, i sang the song Closing Time.
i'm tone deaf.
and now all my friends know that.
yolo.
we typically venture out to an area of The City where all men wear gingham button up shirts, or plaid.
on my way over to meet her, via public transportation, a caught a large seemingly homeless man, giving me the up-and-down.
bow-chikka-wow-wow
note: i say 'seemingly homeless' because i am not one to jump to conclusions. the man had a cart full of garbage and was carrying a large Hefty bag. he also smelled like a dumpster. i kept my distance.
is there anything more awkward than making eye contact while someone is checking you out?
he gave me the head nod, then said
YOLO
ohhh Mr. Yolo. I may only live once, but even if I was a cat with 9 lives, you would never be my type. im sure you understand.
our favorite bar was closed.
after i recovered from my panic attack, we found another establishment.
the night remained uneventful until we left that scene and headed down the street, on foot.
i high-fived a cute drunk boy.
then i heard someone shouting my name.
note: my name is extremely common. thanks mom and dad.
the shouting continued.
a car pulled over and out popped a friend of Mr. REA.
what a small world.
we called Mr. REA and flirted with unattractive men for free drinks until he showed up.
and at closing time, i sang the song Closing Time.
i'm tone deaf.
and now all my friends know that.
yolo.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Mr. LA
Remember that whole online-dating profile thing I set up?
Well, I finally got a hit that wasn't a total f-ing weirdo. thankfully. it was about time.
I grabbed dinner with Mr. LA last week.
a few things:
as my mother so kindly reminds me, I was born 2 weeks late. aaand I haven't shown up to a thing on time since. this date was no exception.
mexican restaurants = gas all night. isn't that the general rule?
Mr. LA's profile picture was only slightly deceiving. ...but he was super fun and easy to talk to. a perfect candidate for The Friend Zone.
I didn't order a drink. I spent the entire night wishing I had - slash - fantasizing about elaborate ways to get one.
I wouldn't say this reflected so much on his conversational skills, as it does on my obvious alcohol dependency.
so, that's that.
Well, I finally got a hit that wasn't a total f-ing weirdo. thankfully. it was about time.
I grabbed dinner with Mr. LA last week.
a few things:
as my mother so kindly reminds me, I was born 2 weeks late. aaand I haven't shown up to a thing on time since. this date was no exception.
mexican restaurants = gas all night. isn't that the general rule?
Mr. LA's profile picture was only slightly deceiving. ...but he was super fun and easy to talk to. a perfect candidate for The Friend Zone.
I didn't order a drink. I spent the entire night wishing I had - slash - fantasizing about elaborate ways to get one.
I wouldn't say this reflected so much on his conversational skills, as it does on my obvious alcohol dependency.
so, that's that.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
The Other John Stamos
the night started out with a dear friend and a delicious dinner. also known as a win-win.
on our walk over to the near-by bar, I recieved a compliment. or a comment. I'm not sure what to call it actually.
I like your hair. It's very...shabby chic.
For the record: i wouldn't describe my hair so much as shabby chic, but more as meg ryan-esque. or possibly just not brushed. Ratty might be the best term actually.
now let's pause for a sec because here's a man who actually physically resembled John Stamos. in regards to this blog, things are about to get confusing in the Stamos department.
more on that later.
note: on the laundry-list of things I'll do to get free drinks, flirting with men I normally wouldn't makes it to the top 5.
i stuck with this tactic until my liquid confidence was high enough to venture towards greener pastures. because this particular bar on this particular night was what they refer to as a full-blown sausage-fest, we had our pick.
as it turns out, this was a bachelor party.
jackpot.
one of the men claimed he knew me from somewhere.
note to men everywhere: this is not an effective pick up line. ever. you do not know me from anywhere.
it turns out, this man was friends with The Other John Stamos aka Mr. Shabby Chic. The Other John Stamos then proceeded to become a total cockblock.
ever had two friends fight over you at a bar?
yah, me neither.
this bachelor party was doing a bar crawl.
this bachelor party also had a party bus.
guys. i got on the party bus.
we went to a bar with a photo booth in it.
i'm now $20 poorer and have hilarious pictures of people i don't know decorating my refrigerator.
this makes up for my lost scarf.
sort of.
we ate hot dogs from a street vender.
i loaded mine with onions.
im a classy lady.
and at closing time, Mr. REA picked me up.
moral of the story: I don't have any morals.
on our walk over to the near-by bar, I recieved a compliment. or a comment. I'm not sure what to call it actually.
I like your hair. It's very...shabby chic.
For the record: i wouldn't describe my hair so much as shabby chic, but more as meg ryan-esque. or possibly just not brushed. Ratty might be the best term actually.
now let's pause for a sec because here's a man who actually physically resembled John Stamos. in regards to this blog, things are about to get confusing in the Stamos department.
more on that later.
note: on the laundry-list of things I'll do to get free drinks, flirting with men I normally wouldn't makes it to the top 5.
i stuck with this tactic until my liquid confidence was high enough to venture towards greener pastures. because this particular bar on this particular night was what they refer to as a full-blown sausage-fest, we had our pick.
as it turns out, this was a bachelor party.
jackpot.
one of the men claimed he knew me from somewhere.
note to men everywhere: this is not an effective pick up line. ever. you do not know me from anywhere.
it turns out, this man was friends with The Other John Stamos aka Mr. Shabby Chic. The Other John Stamos then proceeded to become a total cockblock.
ever had two friends fight over you at a bar?
yah, me neither.
this bachelor party was doing a bar crawl.
this bachelor party also had a party bus.
guys. i got on the party bus.
we went to a bar with a photo booth in it.
i'm now $20 poorer and have hilarious pictures of people i don't know decorating my refrigerator.
this makes up for my lost scarf.
sort of.
we ate hot dogs from a street vender.
i loaded mine with onions.
im a classy lady.
and at closing time, Mr. REA picked me up.
moral of the story: I don't have any morals.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
cookie conflict
recently I had a little heart-to-heart with Brother. not to be confused with Other Brother.
being the only two single-ready-to-mingles left in our family, the conversation naturally drifted to my favorite topic, relationships.
this resulted in Brother breaking things down into an analogy I can comprehend - cookies.
if you're at the grocery store. and there are cookies on the counter, you're going to eat those cookies until someone says something. at that point, you have two choices: pay for the cookies, or walk away.
he had to explain to me, that I am not the cookie-customer. in this story, I am the cookie lady.
the cookie-customer can walk around to different cookie counters and sample all sorts of cookies. but until the cookie lady asks him to pay, he gets free range of all the cookies.
but Brother, what if there are multiple cookie-customers at my cookie counter? what if the cookie-customers don't like that there are other cookie-customers eating the same cookies? or even looking at the same cookies? or even thinking about looking at the same cookies?
as the cookie lady, if you want them to pay, you have to ask. as soon as they start paying for those cookies, they are your only cookie-customer. but, they also might walk away. so keep that in mind before you ask them to pay.
yikes. thanks bro.
WWCBD?
being the only two single-ready-to-mingles left in our family, the conversation naturally drifted to my favorite topic, relationships.
this resulted in Brother breaking things down into an analogy I can comprehend - cookies.
if you're at the grocery store. and there are cookies on the counter, you're going to eat those cookies until someone says something. at that point, you have two choices: pay for the cookies, or walk away.
he had to explain to me, that I am not the cookie-customer. in this story, I am the cookie lady.
the cookie-customer can walk around to different cookie counters and sample all sorts of cookies. but until the cookie lady asks him to pay, he gets free range of all the cookies.
but Brother, what if there are multiple cookie-customers at my cookie counter? what if the cookie-customers don't like that there are other cookie-customers eating the same cookies? or even looking at the same cookies? or even thinking about looking at the same cookies?
as the cookie lady, if you want them to pay, you have to ask. as soon as they start paying for those cookies, they are your only cookie-customer. but, they also might walk away. so keep that in mind before you ask them to pay.
yikes. thanks bro.
WWCBD?
Thursday, August 16, 2012
You've Been Chosen!
So one of the hilarious parts of this whole online-dating experiment is the part where The Website sends me these emails alerting me when someone has viewed my profile and rated me 4 or 5 stars.
Like I'm a hotel or something.
Anyway, it seems like the only ones rating me 4 or 5 stars are complete trolls.
I'm being chosen by trolls.
first I laugh. really really hard.
and then I cry.
Like I'm a hotel or something.
Anyway, it seems like the only ones rating me 4 or 5 stars are complete trolls.
I'm being chosen by trolls.
first I laugh. really really hard.
and then I cry.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
master of the Acrostic
Fun Fact #1:
I recently spent 12 hours of quality time in the car with Brother.
Fun Fact #2:
I am a poet.
Fun Fact #3:
It would also appear that I am extremely immature.
so what?
Enjoy my #1 Top-Seller, entitled Marriage.
Miserable
Assholes
Really
Ruining
Intimate
Adult
Genital
Encounters
and oh baby, you better believe there is plenty more where that came from.
I recently spent 12 hours of quality time in the car with Brother.
Fun Fact #2:
I am a poet.
Fun Fact #3:
It would also appear that I am extremely immature.
so what?
Enjoy my #1 Top-Seller, entitled Marriage.
Miserable
Assholes
Really
Ruining
Intimate
Adult
Genital
Encounters
and oh baby, you better believe there is plenty more where that came from.
Monday, August 13, 2012
The Mints
I agreed to meet Mr. REA for dinner.
To prepare, I of course consulted BFF. Then bought a new outfit, per her advice. If I could, I'd send her the bill too. But I guess staying friends with someone like me is payment enough.
This resulted in a pair of new favorite heels. Naturally.
Sorry Reds, there's a new shoe in town.
meet The Mints.
They're much taller than you, and slightly sexier. However, they're also much more difficult to walk in. I've already injured myself wearing them. true story.
#girlproblems
Mr. REA picks me up. no flowers, no presents.
I'm a sucker for flowers and presents.
uhhh does he even know women?
Oh, and no explanation.
In the words of my good friend M:
I shaved my balls for this?
Boys can be so, blah.
So much for the new outfit. He showed up in a goddamn zip-up hoodie and vans. and still managed to look sexy as hell. How do guys do that?
Time to start demanding answers.
To prepare, I of course consulted BFF. Then bought a new outfit, per her advice. If I could, I'd send her the bill too. But I guess staying friends with someone like me is payment enough.
This resulted in a pair of new favorite heels. Naturally.
Sorry Reds, there's a new shoe in town.
meet The Mints.
They're much taller than you, and slightly sexier. However, they're also much more difficult to walk in. I've already injured myself wearing them. true story.
#girlproblems
Mr. REA picks me up. no flowers, no presents.
I'm a sucker for flowers and presents.
uhhh does he even know women?
Oh, and no explanation.
In the words of my good friend M:
I shaved my balls for this?
Boys can be so, blah.
So much for the new outfit. He showed up in a goddamn zip-up hoodie and vans. and still managed to look sexy as hell. How do guys do that?
Time to start demanding answers.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Hometown
so the best part about being out on the prowl in Hometown is that everyone already knows what a hot mess you are.
no questions asked.
no explanations needed.
no apologies necessary.
note: when i say you, just know that i really am actually referring to me. unless you're a hot mess too. in which case, let's go out.
it's impossible to prowl properly when there are boys in your group.
there. i said it. sorry boys.
but having said that, sometimes it's nice to be able to go out with a group of friends - boys & girls - and just have a good time together.
that's what friends are for, right?
so what if it doesn't result in a laundry-list of random phone numbers and names you'll never remember. or a night of endless free drinks and unlimited flirting. or a regretful one-night-stand.
when I'm in Hometown, those nights usually result in a grown-up slumber party with BFF.
slumber parties entail:
so. much. drinking wine in bed.
so. much. laughing.
so. much. talking about boys.
so. much. memory lane.
so. much. girl time.
sometimes the best part about being single & fabulous is having someone to share it with.
so. thanks, BFF.
no questions asked.
no explanations needed.
no apologies necessary.
note: when i say you, just know that i really am actually referring to me. unless you're a hot mess too. in which case, let's go out.
it's impossible to prowl properly when there are boys in your group.
there. i said it. sorry boys.
but having said that, sometimes it's nice to be able to go out with a group of friends - boys & girls - and just have a good time together.
that's what friends are for, right?
so what if it doesn't result in a laundry-list of random phone numbers and names you'll never remember. or a night of endless free drinks and unlimited flirting. or a regretful one-night-stand.
when I'm in Hometown, those nights usually result in a grown-up slumber party with BFF.
slumber parties entail:
so. much. drinking wine in bed.
so. much. laughing.
so. much. talking about boys.
so. much. memory lane.
so. much. girl time.
sometimes the best part about being single & fabulous is having someone to share it with.
so. thanks, BFF.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
morning after
It's a pretty amazing thing when you're hurting more from sheer embarrassment than the actual hangover.
Remember how I didn't close out my tab?
Well, I got a text from Scar letting me know that he grabbed my ID for me. What a kind and thoughtful boyfriend. It turns out, the club is closed on Sundays... good thing I slipped him my digits that first night, otherwise I'd have driven out of Small Town without my license.
note: Small Town is 3 hours south of Hometown. Hometown is 12 hours from The City.
We agreed to meet in the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot on my way out of town. This resulted in a very different kind of walk of shame. Should I, or should I not have, presented a written apology for my tendency to become a Hot Mess while under the influence of any beverage, including water?
sorry that I'm not sorry.
It also occurred to me that he had plenty of time to memorize my address and vitals. Now it's only a matter of time before I go missing...
Remember those sister twins?
Well it turns out, they aren't twins. They are liars.
Remember the tire blow out?
Well in this one-horse-town, all of the tire shops are closed on Sundays. Thank-you Sears Auto, I didn't know you still existed anymore. Without your help I may have been trapped in Small Town forever.
Remember the dead beta fish?
Well it rose from the dead.
now that was some freaky sh--.
Remember how I didn't close out my tab?
Well, I got a text from Scar letting me know that he grabbed my ID for me. What a kind and thoughtful boyfriend. It turns out, the club is closed on Sundays... good thing I slipped him my digits that first night, otherwise I'd have driven out of Small Town without my license.
note: Small Town is 3 hours south of Hometown. Hometown is 12 hours from The City.
We agreed to meet in the Jack-in-the-Box parking lot on my way out of town. This resulted in a very different kind of walk of shame. Should I, or should I not have, presented a written apology for my tendency to become a Hot Mess while under the influence of any beverage, including water?
sorry that I'm not sorry.
It also occurred to me that he had plenty of time to memorize my address and vitals. Now it's only a matter of time before I go missing...
Remember those sister twins?
Well it turns out, they aren't twins. They are liars.
Remember the tire blow out?
Well in this one-horse-town, all of the tire shops are closed on Sundays. Thank-you Sears Auto, I didn't know you still existed anymore. Without your help I may have been trapped in Small Town forever.
Remember the dead beta fish?
Well it rose from the dead.
now that was some freaky sh--.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
icing on the cake.
well friends. I believe that I've reached what they refer to as a new low.
there is something very humbling about waking up next to your Date, staring straight into his gorgeous blue eyes and having him ask:
Want to hear a funny story?
note: this is never a safe question after a long night of drinking.
I proceeded with caution.
Yes.
I usually forget how classy I am until someone reminds me the next morning...
it would appear, according to The Date, that the following events occurred:
- I was completely drunk in front of two of my former teachers.
- I told the same Elevator Story, to the same people, each and every time I entered the elevator.
- The Date helped me undress.
- The Date helped me put on my pajamas.
- The Date tucked me into bed.
- The Date didn't even try to get fresh with me. or maybe he did. I was what they refer to as, blacked out.
one hour after I'm tucked in...
I scoot myself off the bed.
The Date asks if I'm going to barf.
I say no.
I remove my pants.
I walk into the corner.
I stand next to the bed.
I face the wall.
The Date hears water splashing.
The Date asks: did you barf?
no.
The Date asks: did you pee?
noooo...
The Date, now my Adult Babysitter, gets up to find out I have lied to him.
friends, I peed.
on the floor.
in the corner.
standing up.
with no pants on.
I redefined the term Hot Mess.
The Date took me to the bathroom.
sat me on the toilet.
wiped off my legs.
put my pants back on me.
walked me back to bed.
and tucked me in.
some of the pee-pee splattered on my shoes.
The Reds.
oh, and the fish died overnight.
remind me never to reproduce.
there is something very humbling about waking up next to your Date, staring straight into his gorgeous blue eyes and having him ask:
Want to hear a funny story?
note: this is never a safe question after a long night of drinking.
I proceeded with caution.
Yes.
I usually forget how classy I am until someone reminds me the next morning...
it would appear, according to The Date, that the following events occurred:
- I was completely drunk in front of two of my former teachers.
- I told the same Elevator Story, to the same people, each and every time I entered the elevator.
- The Date helped me undress.
- The Date helped me put on my pajamas.
- The Date tucked me into bed.
- The Date didn't even try to get fresh with me. or maybe he did. I was what they refer to as, blacked out.
one hour after I'm tucked in...
I scoot myself off the bed.
The Date asks if I'm going to barf.
I say no.
I remove my pants.
I walk into the corner.
I stand next to the bed.
I face the wall.
The Date hears water splashing.
The Date asks: did you barf?
no.
The Date asks: did you pee?
noooo...
The Date, now my Adult Babysitter, gets up to find out I have lied to him.
friends, I peed.
on the floor.
in the corner.
standing up.
with no pants on.
I redefined the term Hot Mess.
The Date took me to the bathroom.
sat me on the toilet.
wiped off my legs.
put my pants back on me.
walked me back to bed.
and tucked me in.
some of the pee-pee splattered on my shoes.
The Reds.
oh, and the fish died overnight.
remind me never to reproduce.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
rendezvous at Rendezvous
at my request, we rendezvoused at Rendezvous after the reception.
I continued to buy drinks for everyone.
I'm one of those generous drunks.
put it on my tab became my new catchphrase.
I tried to be sexy and pull The Date's shirt up in the back. Except instead of untucking his shirt, I kept pulling his underwear up... resulting in wedgies.
hot, right?
me: hey did you know those girls are sisters?
The Date: yah, they're twins.
me: and they're sisters
The Date: twins are sisters...
that might have been around the time The Date started spoon feeding me water.
we only stayed for an hour. turns out, it's hard to dance when you can't stand up.
didn't close tab
didnt get lucky
didn't cry
didn't barf
didn't die
what I did do however, was much much worse.
I continued to buy drinks for everyone.
I'm one of those generous drunks.
put it on my tab became my new catchphrase.
I tried to be sexy and pull The Date's shirt up in the back. Except instead of untucking his shirt, I kept pulling his underwear up... resulting in wedgies.
hot, right?
me: hey did you know those girls are sisters?
The Date: yah, they're twins.
me: and they're sisters
The Date: twins are sisters...
that might have been around the time The Date started spoon feeding me water.
we only stayed for an hour. turns out, it's hard to dance when you can't stand up.
didn't close tab
didnt get lucky
didn't cry
didn't barf
didn't die
what I did do however, was much much worse.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
reception
The Bride's aunt gave me the best compliment of the weekend:
you remind me so much of Kristin Wigg in Bridesmaids.
mission accomplished.
I have to hand it to the Bride and Groom.
They know how to throw a party.
I cannot express to you enough how much I am not sorry for dancing. dancing is the best.
especially when you're as white as I am.
I won the center piece.
it was a beautiful vase with a live beta fish inside.
I won a pet.
bad idea.
remember how I had to pick up those tuxes?
well, everyone paid me back in cash.
bad idea.
I bought drinks for everyone. all night.
I also caught the bouquet.
aaaaand The Date caught the garter.
match made in heaven?
I think so.
that means you're supposed to sleep together, right? isn't that the tradition?
in hindsight, I probably should've stopped drinking when I introduced myself as the brother of the bride.
note: I am not a brother, nor am I related to Bride. Bride is an only child. and I'm a lush.
and then, we rendezvoused at Rendezvous.
Monday, August 6, 2012
rehearsal
is there anything easier than walking down the aisle then standing on either side of the bride and groom for what seems like an eternity? well, we had to practice that. a million times. ugh.
then it was time to eat. my favorite.
ahem. remember how Mr. REA refused to come to the wedding? well, I wasn't about to show up empty handed. and I wasn't allowed to bring BFF. so I brought my hometown hottie, The Date.
The Date is a very tall, very good-looking man. and generally very fun to be around.
The Date was the next natural choice after REA backed out.
the rehearsal dinner was at a very cute Cantina.
what was not-so-cute about this Cantina was that Happy Hour only existed in the main part of the restaurant. not in the private party room.
this is what I refer to as, a happy hour mishap.
or an unhappy hour.
luckily, The Date shared my feelings.
at 6:55, exactly 5 minutes from the end of HH, we snuck away to the main bar. we made a sacred pact to be gone for no longer than 15 minutes.
75 minutes, 4 pints and 1 olympic opening ceremony later...
we stumble back to the private party room.
door is locked.
room is empty.
everyone is gone.
party is over.
oops.
we ended the night at my new favorite place.
Rendezvous.
The Date, meet Scar.
Scar, meet The Date.
free shots? don't mind if we do.
then it was time to eat. my favorite.
ahem. remember how Mr. REA refused to come to the wedding? well, I wasn't about to show up empty handed. and I wasn't allowed to bring BFF. so I brought my hometown hottie, The Date.
The Date is a very tall, very good-looking man. and generally very fun to be around.
The Date was the next natural choice after REA backed out.
the rehearsal dinner was at a very cute Cantina.
what was not-so-cute about this Cantina was that Happy Hour only existed in the main part of the restaurant. not in the private party room.
this is what I refer to as, a happy hour mishap.
or an unhappy hour.
luckily, The Date shared my feelings.
at 6:55, exactly 5 minutes from the end of HH, we snuck away to the main bar. we made a sacred pact to be gone for no longer than 15 minutes.
75 minutes, 4 pints and 1 olympic opening ceremony later...
we stumble back to the private party room.
door is locked.
room is empty.
everyone is gone.
party is over.
oops.
we ended the night at my new favorite place.
Rendezvous.
The Date, meet Scar.
Scar, meet The Date.
free shots? don't mind if we do.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Scar
When I awoke the morning after the bachelorette bash, I had booze bruises & a migrane.
as is tradition.
booze bruises refer to anytime I go out drinking, and do not get into a street fight, but still wake up with injuries of unknown origin.
I also had a little message on my phone.
hey cutie, its Scar the bartender.
uhhhh pretty sure his name last night was the same as my Other Brother's. This isn't the first time I've been jiggy with a man with the same name as a family member. hot.
note: I don't feel bad using his 'real name' in this scenario because it's unclear which one is actually his birthname.
Naturally, I had to inquire about the Scar.
well it's been my nickname since high school cause i was always beat up from riding and kick boxing then when i was 21 i got stabbed 18 times and it really stuck...
Scar, my boyfriend and future husband slash future father of my unborn children, was stabbed 18 times.
Of course, my next thought was, 18 times in a row? or 18 isolated incidents of 1 stab each? or 6 incidents with 3 stabs each? or 3 incidents with 6 stabs each? or 10 incidents with 1 stab each and 4 incidents of 2 stabs each?
the combinations are endless.
i got jumped by two wannabe gangbangers with a buck knife and a machete. i still put both of them in the hospital but i did die for a second in the helicopter on the way to the hospital from blood loss.
yikes.
wannabe gangbangers? a buck knife and a machete?
he's a keeper.
as is tradition.
booze bruises refer to anytime I go out drinking, and do not get into a street fight, but still wake up with injuries of unknown origin.
I also had a little message on my phone.
hey cutie, its Scar the bartender.
uhhhh pretty sure his name last night was the same as my Other Brother's. This isn't the first time I've been jiggy with a man with the same name as a family member. hot.
note: I don't feel bad using his 'real name' in this scenario because it's unclear which one is actually his birthname.
Naturally, I had to inquire about the Scar.
well it's been my nickname since high school cause i was always beat up from riding and kick boxing then when i was 21 i got stabbed 18 times and it really stuck...
Scar, my boyfriend and future husband slash future father of my unborn children, was stabbed 18 times.
Of course, my next thought was, 18 times in a row? or 18 isolated incidents of 1 stab each? or 6 incidents with 3 stabs each? or 3 incidents with 6 stabs each? or 10 incidents with 1 stab each and 4 incidents of 2 stabs each?
the combinations are endless.
i got jumped by two wannabe gangbangers with a buck knife and a machete. i still put both of them in the hospital but i did die for a second in the helicopter on the way to the hospital from blood loss.
yikes.
wannabe gangbangers? a buck knife and a machete?
he's a keeper.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
bachelorette party
After proving to the bridal party what a classy lady I am, we set out for The Bride's last night on the prowl.
side note: in this Small Town, there aren't too many establishments to choose from.
We settled for a fancy little placed called Rendezvous.
another side note: When I've already been drinking, I describe most things as fancy.
This includes: drinks, men, places, clothes, cars, hotels, food, shoes and everything else in the world.
If I counted correctly, there were 9 other people in this club. 13 including the Bachelorette Party.
Naturally, I was the only single member of bridal party. and oh-so ready to mingle.
The dance floor was empty.
The drinks were 2-4-1.
The night was my oyster.
I love dancing. sorry that I'm not sorry.
The best part about rolling with the Bachelorette Party is that when the Bride drinks, we all drink. And everyone was buying drinks for the Bride.
holler.
I was doing what is refered to as spitting game.
I attempted to give The Bartender a fatty tip at the end of the night. I also slipped him my number on the receipt. classy, I know.
sidenote: I've never done that fancy little trick before. But when you're in a Small Town, with no intention of returning, you'll do just about anything.
I'm also not so hot with math, or numbers in general so it's unclear how well that's going to work out for me.
I'm sure there's a good reason he hasn't called.
right?
side note: in this Small Town, there aren't too many establishments to choose from.
We settled for a fancy little placed called Rendezvous.
another side note: When I've already been drinking, I describe most things as fancy.
This includes: drinks, men, places, clothes, cars, hotels, food, shoes and everything else in the world.
If I counted correctly, there were 9 other people in this club. 13 including the Bachelorette Party.
Naturally, I was the only single member of bridal party. and oh-so ready to mingle.
The dance floor was empty.
The drinks were 2-4-1.
The night was my oyster.
I love dancing. sorry that I'm not sorry.
The best part about rolling with the Bachelorette Party is that when the Bride drinks, we all drink. And everyone was buying drinks for the Bride.
holler.
I was doing what is refered to as spitting game.
It's not quite as effective when a white girl says it, but you get the picture.
I handed out my number to i dont know how many men. I think it was actually just one. but if my Onliners find out about this they'll think I'm a whooore.
yolo.
D was an older man, maybe in his 30's. who insisted that my birthplace was in fact, not outside of the larger City I claimed it was. D needs a lesson in geography. D was buying, so I let him think he was correct.
N was a hottie-boom-ba-lottie for sure. but after we overheard some chatter in the ladies bathroom I found out two things:
N's real name is T.
N has two kids.
bring. it. on.
I attempted to give The Bartender a fatty tip at the end of the night. I also slipped him my number on the receipt. classy, I know.
sidenote: I've never done that fancy little trick before. But when you're in a Small Town, with no intention of returning, you'll do just about anything.
I'm also not so hot with math, or numbers in general so it's unclear how well that's going to work out for me.
I'm sure there's a good reason he hasn't called.
right?
Friday, August 3, 2012
no comment.
Naturally, the first thing I did when I finally made it to my hotel room (after the tire blow out) was clog the toilet.
I. am. so. embarrassing.
brought plunger back to male receptionist.
went out for a night on the prowl.
yes friends, you read that correctly. I'll spare you the deets.
I tried that little trick where you just keep flushing and hope that the waste will dislodge itself. This ritual usually includes a short prayer:
dear God, please help this terrible beast to seek the light and go peacefully down the pipes before I bring a man back here to seduce me into oblivion. amen.
I left it to fester while I met up with the fam.
later that night...
I brought the bridal party back to my room to pregame.
I. am. so. embarrassing.
made the bride-to-be call the front desk for the plunger.
made the maid-of-honor go downstairs to pick up said plunger.
I plunged a toilet. in heels. sorry Reds.
brought plunger back to male receptionist.
went out for a night on the prowl.
Put another check mark on my bucket list. Bam.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
i hate driving.
Here is a very short story, written in fragments, about the time I recently drove three hours into the desert to pick up some tuxes for my Other Brother's wedding.
drove to the wrong tux shop.
got lost trying to find the correct tux shop.
had to go #2. really. badly.
wanted to f-ing drive my car over a cliff.
found correct tux shop.
picked up tuxes.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
20 miles away from my final destination.
tire blows out.
on the highway.
in the middle of no where.
it was hot outside.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
damsel in distress.
DPS came to the rescue.
officer was what I frequently describe as a "hottie-boom-ba-lottie"
we empty my trunk to reach spare tire.
he removes a case of 7up.
cans of 7up explode from heat exposure.
soda everywhere.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
he replaces tire.
i pick up remaining 7up case.
7ups blew their load, again.
drenched me in sticky soda.
dejavu
at least he stuck around to help me clean up.
that's what gentlemen do.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
drove to the wrong tux shop.
got lost trying to find the correct tux shop.
had to go #2. really. badly.
wanted to f-ing drive my car over a cliff.
found correct tux shop.
picked up tuxes.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
20 miles away from my final destination.
tire blows out.
on the highway.
in the middle of no where.
it was hot outside.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
damsel in distress.
DPS came to the rescue.
officer was what I frequently describe as a "hottie-boom-ba-lottie"
we empty my trunk to reach spare tire.
he removes a case of 7up.
cans of 7up explode from heat exposure.
soda everywhere.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
he replaces tire.
i pick up remaining 7up case.
7ups blew their load, again.
drenched me in sticky soda.
dejavu
at least he stuck around to help me clean up.
that's what gentlemen do.
still had to go #2. really. badly.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
mystery
so here's an interesting situation.
first. man gets up from bed
second. man goes into bathroom
third. man locks door
fourth. man turns on shower
fifth. shower runs for 15 minutes
sixth. man turns off shower
seventh. man flushes toilet
eighth. man washes hands
ninth. man comes back into bed
tenth. mans hair and body have not been washed.
a quick note to men everywhere:
you are not as sneaky as you think.
first. man gets up from bed
second. man goes into bathroom
third. man locks door
fourth. man turns on shower
fifth. shower runs for 15 minutes
sixth. man turns off shower
seventh. man flushes toilet
eighth. man washes hands
ninth. man comes back into bed
tenth. mans hair and body have not been washed.
a quick note to men everywhere:
you are not as sneaky as you think.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Mr. Cuddle Fish
There's a fun, fancy event on Thursday nights in The City where you can get dressed up - or not - and go drink at the science museum.
Booze & Science.
a match made in heaven.
They dim the lights, pump up the music and put a drink in your hand. Now there's a recipe for makin babies.
As you can imagine, it lends itself nicely to boozing and cruising around the museum with other classy intellectual types. We spent the night on the prowl scoping out other people who are smart, but still like to party. Those are my kinds of peeps.
or so I thought.
While in line for drinks, I carefully eavesdropped on my girl A while she was oh-so-cleverly being hit on.
If that tank breaks, you better watch out. I hear those fish only eat cute girls. You and your friends are in trouble.
what. a. smooth. talker.
Had he been cuter, of course I would have proclaimed him a genius on the spot.
I'll admit it was borderline flattering, seeing as how I'm one of her friends. In a round-about way, he was complimenting me. And we all know I'll do just about anything for a compliment. or a dollar. or dinner. or a puppy. or a blog post. let's get back to the story...
He introduces himself to The Entourage. We were rolling about 10 deep, he and his friend must have been intimidated. Mad props for approaching us.
Have you seen the Cuddle Fish?
-No, we haven't. what is that?
Oh you HAVE to see it. The Cuddle Fish is the best.
I was not about to lose my place in line at the bar to go find some silly Cuddle fish.
He understood.
Later that night....
We bump into him near the jelly fish tanks.
Oh hey strangers! Have you found the Cuddle Fish yet?
notice two things. yes we really are strangers. and anyone who uses the word cuddle this many times makes me uncomfortable. no exceptions to that rule.
-oh haha, no we haven't found it yet.
well follow us. we'll show you.
We then proceed to follow these two men, one of whom is unfortunately 5-foot-nothing, into a dark corner of the aquarium. You already know that I have a history of following suspicious men into suspicious places. So this shouldn't surprise you.
oh no. the cuddle fish isn't out. he must be hiding.
They then stood there in the dark corner, unsure of their next move.
Booze & Science.
a match made in heaven.
They dim the lights, pump up the music and put a drink in your hand. Now there's a recipe for makin babies.
As you can imagine, it lends itself nicely to boozing and cruising around the museum with other classy intellectual types. We spent the night on the prowl scoping out other people who are smart, but still like to party. Those are my kinds of peeps.
or so I thought.
While in line for drinks, I carefully eavesdropped on my girl A while she was oh-so-cleverly being hit on.
If that tank breaks, you better watch out. I hear those fish only eat cute girls. You and your friends are in trouble.
what. a. smooth. talker.
Had he been cuter, of course I would have proclaimed him a genius on the spot.
I'll admit it was borderline flattering, seeing as how I'm one of her friends. In a round-about way, he was complimenting me. And we all know I'll do just about anything for a compliment. or a dollar. or dinner. or a puppy. or a blog post. let's get back to the story...
He introduces himself to The Entourage. We were rolling about 10 deep, he and his friend must have been intimidated. Mad props for approaching us.
Have you seen the Cuddle Fish?
-No, we haven't. what is that?
Oh you HAVE to see it. The Cuddle Fish is the best.
I was not about to lose my place in line at the bar to go find some silly Cuddle fish.
He understood.
Later that night....
We bump into him near the jelly fish tanks.
Oh hey strangers! Have you found the Cuddle Fish yet?
notice two things. yes we really are strangers. and anyone who uses the word cuddle this many times makes me uncomfortable. no exceptions to that rule.
-oh haha, no we haven't found it yet.
well follow us. we'll show you.
We then proceed to follow these two men, one of whom is unfortunately 5-foot-nothing, into a dark corner of the aquarium. You already know that I have a history of following suspicious men into suspicious places. So this shouldn't surprise you.
oh no. the cuddle fish isn't out. he must be hiding.
They then stood there in the dark corner, unsure of their next move.
anybody else just get a flash back from 7 minutes in heaven?
no? oh yah me neither.
I wasn't sure of their true intentions. But my feet hurt and oh look at the time. bye.
To make up for the anticlimactic ending, I'll save you a google search.
Baby Cuddle Fish: awwwww
Grown Up Cuddle Fish:
My next boyfriend: That's a cuddle fish tattoo people. a tattoo.
Friday, July 27, 2012
friend-of-a-friend
While I was doing my online research last week, I came across a familiar face. Well I'll be honest, what first caught my eye was not the familiar face. It was the tuxedo T he was wearing in the profile picture. You already know how I feel about profile pictures.
Note: I had a boyfriend once who wore tuxedo T's like a champ. Hi G-Man. I know you read this.
Alright so I see Mr. Tuxedo T, I make my assumptions. I click on the profile to gather some material for my writing assignment when I notice two things.
A) He's cute.
B) I know him.
In that moment, my Online World and my Real World collided.
mind. blown.
What do you do when you come across your friend's roommate on a free dating website?
You send a saucy message of course.
By saucy I mean bland. I believe we've already discussed my flirting abilities. or lack thereof.
Now I see how it feels to be on the other side of the Sympathy Date.
Holler.
Note: I had a boyfriend once who wore tuxedo T's like a champ. Hi G-Man. I know you read this.
Alright so I see Mr. Tuxedo T, I make my assumptions. I click on the profile to gather some material for my writing assignment when I notice two things.
A) He's cute.
B) I know him.
In that moment, my Online World and my Real World collided.
mind. blown.
What do you do when you come across your friend's roommate on a free dating website?
You send a saucy message of course.
By saucy I mean bland. I believe we've already discussed my flirting abilities. or lack thereof.
Now I see how it feels to be on the other side of the Sympathy Date.
Holler.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
OnlinePredator2
Via Instant Messaging:
OnlinePredator2: you look familiar
oh shit.
OnlinePredator2: maybe ive seen you at a party or sumthin
(you should find this bit hilarious, like I've ever been invited to a party.)
Me: haha, yah maybe.
OnlinePredator2: where do you live?
(the online-types are always curious to know my location.)
Me: near The Park.
OnlinePredator2: whats your cell?
Me: thats not something im comfortable giving out online, sorry
OnlinePredator2: what do you think will happen? lighten up.
a. you will tap my phone line
b. you will trace my number to my exact location
c. you will run my license plate number
d. you will show up at my place of work
e. you will break into my garage
f. you will judge my web browser cookies
g. you'll hack my instagram account
h. you'll realize I look nothing like my profile pictures
i. you'll flirt with my friends
j. you'll sleep with my friends
k. you'll friend C$ on facebook
l. you'll judge my coffee consumption
m. you'll text me. ugh.
n. I'm paranoid. the list goes on.
OnlinePredator2: i wouldn't imagine the demand is high enough to warrant alarm
Me: excuse me?
OnlinePredator2 has signed off.
go to hell, you online predator.
OnlinePredator2: you look familiar
oh shit.
OnlinePredator2: maybe ive seen you at a party or sumthin
(you should find this bit hilarious, like I've ever been invited to a party.)
Me: haha, yah maybe.
OnlinePredator2: where do you live?
(the online-types are always curious to know my location.)
Me: near The Park.
OnlinePredator2: whats your cell?
Me: thats not something im comfortable giving out online, sorry
OnlinePredator2: what do you think will happen? lighten up.
a. you will tap my phone line
b. you will trace my number to my exact location
c. you will run my license plate number
d. you will show up at my place of work
e. you will break into my garage
f. you will judge my web browser cookies
g. you'll hack my instagram account
h. you'll realize I look nothing like my profile pictures
i. you'll flirt with my friends
j. you'll sleep with my friends
k. you'll friend C$ on facebook
l. you'll judge my coffee consumption
m. you'll text me. ugh.
n. I'm paranoid. the list goes on.
OnlinePredator2: i wouldn't imagine the demand is high enough to warrant alarm
Me: excuse me?
OnlinePredator2 has signed off.
go to hell, you online predator.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
confessions of a relationship blogger.
Now that the messages are coming in like hot cakes, (is that the correct expression? how fast would you say hot cakes come in at? 1 or 2 every-other day?)
Regardless, I've got a confession to make.
This isn't easy for me to admit, but everything I know about online dating I learned from You've Got Mail starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
Translation - I know nothing about online dating. or regular dating really.
Hm...You don't seem surprised.
I'm not embarrassed. I'm sure there are other people who are wondering the same things I am.
Having said that, I'm curious:
- Are there rules for online dating?
- Should I be telling all of my friends that I'm doing this?
- How long do I wait before I reply to a message from a hottie?
- How do you avoid looking desperate?
- How many pictures of myself do I put up?
- Should I include photos in which I'm eating popsicles?
- What about bananas?
- twinkies?
- hotdogs?
- How do you describe yourself in a tastefully confident manner?
- What do you do when you see someone from the Online World, at a bar in the Real World?
- What is flirting and how do you do it?
- When do I start initiating a meeting?
- Or do I wait for the man to ask me out?
- Which comes first - dinner or coffee?
- Is it too forward to suggest meeting at a hotel?
- What do you do when you're surfing for hotties and come across your friend's roommate's profile?
- How do you wear yoga pants all day without getting camel toe?
- Should I have listed blowjobs under the Things I'm Good At tab?
- Why is 69 such a funny number?
- Is it true what they say about the size of the boat and the motion of the ocean?
- What is that a metaphor for?
- Is it normal to love Call Me Maybe this much?
- Where do babies come from?
Thanks guys. It felt good to let all that out.
Regardless, I've got a confession to make.
This isn't easy for me to admit, but everything I know about online dating I learned from You've Got Mail starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
Translation - I know nothing about online dating. or regular dating really.
Hm...You don't seem surprised.
I'm not embarrassed. I'm sure there are other people who are wondering the same things I am.
Having said that, I'm curious:
- Are there rules for online dating?
- Should I be telling all of my friends that I'm doing this?
- How long do I wait before I reply to a message from a hottie?
- How do you avoid looking desperate?
- How many pictures of myself do I put up?
- Should I include photos in which I'm eating popsicles?
- What about bananas?
- twinkies?
- hotdogs?
- How do you describe yourself in a tastefully confident manner?
- What do you do when you see someone from the Online World, at a bar in the Real World?
- What is flirting and how do you do it?
- When do I start initiating a meeting?
- Or do I wait for the man to ask me out?
- Which comes first - dinner or coffee?
- Is it too forward to suggest meeting at a hotel?
- What do you do when you're surfing for hotties and come across your friend's roommate's profile?
- How do you wear yoga pants all day without getting camel toe?
- Should I have listed blowjobs under the Things I'm Good At tab?
- Why is 69 such a funny number?
- Is it true what they say about the size of the boat and the motion of the ocean?
- What is that a metaphor for?
- Is it normal to love Call Me Maybe this much?
- Where do babies come from?
Thanks guys. It felt good to let all that out.
Monday, July 23, 2012
The Return of Mr. REA
I knew this day would come.
It eventually always does, doesn't it?
You have a new message from Mr. REA.
I did not anticipate it saying
I miss you. I'm sorry. I want to see you.
Or maybe I did. I am fabulous.
Of course he misses me.
In the words of some famous person,
'I ain't no holler back girl'.
I can't help but think, WWCBD?
What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?
It eventually always does, doesn't it?
You have a new message from Mr. REA.
I did not anticipate it saying
I miss you. I'm sorry. I want to see you.
Or maybe I did. I am fabulous.
Of course he misses me.
In the words of some famous person,
'I ain't no holler back girl'.
I can't help but think, WWCBD?
What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?
Sunday, July 22, 2012
sex-crazed lunatics need-not apply
...no seriously.
Last week I was propositioned online to grab hot chocolate down by a popular park in The City.
After carefully reviewing this individual's profile, I came to the sudden realization that he might in deed be a sex-a-holic.
Did I agree to meet him anyway?
Of course.
Will I do just about anything for a good blog post?
Of course.
You may be wondering, what qualifies him as a sex-a-holic?
a. he listed threesomes as one of the Six Things He Can't Live Without
b. he listed sex as one of his many Talents
c. he is interested in meeting women who are open to new experiences
d. he is polyamorous
e. that means 'many loves'
f. he is interested in casual sex
So whatever, he sounds cute right?
We agree to meet.
The day before our big date, he messages me to let me know that he is no longer going to be using The Website. He leaves me his phone number and asks me to call him in the morning to confirm our date.
Now here's the part where you're going to be proud of me.
Do I call him to confirm?
Of course not.
Were you really thinking that I did?
I was not about to let Mr. McNasty be in possession of these digits.
Cha right, no way.
And that, my friends, is how I blew off my first online date.
Impressed?
Last week I was propositioned online to grab hot chocolate down by a popular park in The City.
After carefully reviewing this individual's profile, I came to the sudden realization that he might in deed be a sex-a-holic.
Did I agree to meet him anyway?
Of course.
Will I do just about anything for a good blog post?
Of course.
You may be wondering, what qualifies him as a sex-a-holic?
a. he listed threesomes as one of the Six Things He Can't Live Without
b. he listed sex as one of his many Talents
c. he is interested in meeting women who are open to new experiences
d. he is polyamorous
e. that means 'many loves'
f. he is interested in casual sex
So whatever, he sounds cute right?
We agree to meet.
The day before our big date, he messages me to let me know that he is no longer going to be using The Website. He leaves me his phone number and asks me to call him in the morning to confirm our date.
Now here's the part where you're going to be proud of me.
Do I call him to confirm?
Of course not.
Were you really thinking that I did?
I was not about to let Mr. McNasty be in possession of these digits.
Cha right, no way.
And that, my friends, is how I blew off my first online date.
Impressed?
Saturday, July 21, 2012
red lipstick
Is there anything more fun than wearing red lipstick for a night out on the prowl?
Of course not. Red lipstick is the best.
What's not fun about red lipstick is when you stumble home at 3 am and don't wash your face before you go to bed. Ever been down that road?
Yikes.
Nothing quite like waking up with that once-fabulous red lipstick smeared all over your face and white bed sheets the next day.
Oh good morning Joker, why so serious?
Friday, July 20, 2012
huh?
To protect the identity of this person I will refer to him only as OnlinePredator1.
I recieved a message from him. Lucky me, I know.
OnlinePredator1: Are you a girl?
My first thought of course was, are you a moron? OF COURSE I'M A GIRL.
Anyway, I held my tongue and replied simply.
Me: Is that your pickup line?
OnlinePredator1 then proceeded to IM me a thousand times blabbing about some trip he just went on. Ugh. SO annoying. I hadn't said more than 3 words back to him when he threw a curve ball.
OnlinePredator1: Let's continue our communication via Facebook or texting. My number is 555-6969. What's yours?
Me: I'm actually more comfortable communicating on The Website for now.
OnlinePredator1 has signed off.
That's right, OnlinePredator1, you better sign off. And let it be known that if I hear from you again, I will most definitely sic the people from To Catch A Predator on your ass. I'm sure it won't be the first time.
I recieved a message from him. Lucky me, I know.
OnlinePredator1: Are you a girl?
My first thought of course was, are you a moron? OF COURSE I'M A GIRL.
Anyway, I held my tongue and replied simply.
Me: Is that your pickup line?
OnlinePredator1 then proceeded to IM me a thousand times blabbing about some trip he just went on. Ugh. SO annoying. I hadn't said more than 3 words back to him when he threw a curve ball.
OnlinePredator1: Let's continue our communication via Facebook or texting. My number is 555-6969. What's yours?
Me: I'm actually more comfortable communicating on The Website for now.
OnlinePredator1 has signed off.
That's right, OnlinePredator1, you better sign off. And let it be known that if I hear from you again, I will most definitely sic the people from To Catch A Predator on your ass. I'm sure it won't be the first time.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Stamos: Round 1
Is there anymore more fun than a first date?
But have you ever had to almost call off a first date for any of the following reasons:
a. you hated all of your clothes
b. the stress caused your adult acne come out of hiding
c. your hair wouldn't listen to you because it wears the pants in your relationship
This scenario may otherwise be referred to as an E! Fashion Emergency.
- you tell me I look nice : check!
- we maintain a good conversation : check!
- you offer to pay : check!
- you make me laugh : check!
- you're dressed appropriately : check!
- you're cute as hell : double check!
Stamos, you passed the test.
Oh and dinner was delicious.
I know you're dying to hear all the dirty deets, but I'm not one to kiss and tell.
Uh except for yes I absolutely am so let's get this party started.
Is there anything more sexy than a man with a clean apartment? Except maybe Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, but that goes without saying.
Putting that aside, let's talk something very serious.
samurai. swords. in. the. living. room.
yes friends, you read that correctly.
I'm not sure which was more intimidating, the swords or his massive shoe collection. I was traumatized by both.
Yes, it was a sleepless night. thanks for asking. and I already know what you're thinking. So I'll set the record straight right now. The night was sleepless not from the bow-chikka-wow-wow. But from someone's snoring.
But have you ever had to almost call off a first date for any of the following reasons:
a. you hated all of your clothes
b. the stress caused your adult acne come out of hiding
c. your hair wouldn't listen to you because it wears the pants in your relationship
This scenario may otherwise be referred to as an E! Fashion Emergency.
What?
Oh right. Yah, me neither....
I finally decided on that short little brown polka-dot number from Nordstrom. (BFF you know what I'm talking about.) and the red heels. They're my fav. obvi.
Well I showed up late, naturally.
I finally decided on that short little brown polka-dot number from Nordstrom. (BFF you know what I'm talking about.) and the red heels. They're my fav. obvi.
Well I showed up late, naturally.
I had John Stamos waiting almost 20 minutes.
I'm a real winner.
The cab ride over made me feel car sick.
Most cab rides make me feel car sick.
As I've mentioned before, there are certain criteria involved when analyzing whether I will or will not call a date back. All of these things can be assessed within the first 10 minutes:
As I've mentioned before, there are certain criteria involved when analyzing whether I will or will not call a date back. All of these things can be assessed within the first 10 minutes:
- you tell me I look nice : check!
- we maintain a good conversation : check!
- you offer to pay : check!
- you make me laugh : check!
- you're dressed appropriately : check!
- you're cute as hell : double check!
Stamos, you passed the test.
Oh and dinner was delicious.
I know you're dying to hear all the dirty deets, but I'm not one to kiss and tell.
Uh except for yes I absolutely am so let's get this party started.
Is there anything more sexy than a man with a clean apartment? Except maybe Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, but that goes without saying.
Putting that aside, let's talk something very serious.
samurai. swords. in. the. living. room.
yes friends, you read that correctly.
I'm not sure which was more intimidating, the swords or his massive shoe collection. I was traumatized by both.
Yes, it was a sleepless night. thanks for asking. and I already know what you're thinking. So I'll set the record straight right now. The night was sleepless not from the bow-chikka-wow-wow. But from someone's snoring.
Hint. It was not my own.
way to go, Stamos.
good thing you're cute as hell.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
nocreative4name
Around midnight I recieved this little gem in my inbox, from a Mr. NoCreative4Name.
what good does it do being smart and wanting a smart guy if all you do is put height and looks before brains?
By all means, get what you want, but this is ridiculous.
I'm curious, Mr. NoCreative4Name, if you enjoy harassing young women online about what they're seeking in a partner. I'd also be interested to know if this is some sort of sick, twisted pick-up line?
Not only do I feel slightly threatened by your tone, but I also can't help but wonder if you've been told once or twice, or many times probably, that you're "smart and fun, but just not cute. or tall". And now you're choosing to take out that pent-up aggression on me and my dating profile.
Based on your profile picture alone, which is indeed a massive close-up, I might be correct about the not cute part. Which is why I'm not entirely sure why you're messaging me in the first place. Except maybe to let it be known that you did in fact not enjoy my profile. Which is odd, because most people do.
oh well. win some, lose some.
As a side note: I do not have anywhere on my profile that I am only seeking tall, attractive, smart hotties. I'm slightly classier than that, come on people. But in all honesty, of course that's what I'm seeking. Isn't everyone?
Mr. NoCreative4Name I don't want to have to attack your character, but if you contact me again I will have no other choice than to call you a fat loser. So beware.
what good does it do being smart and wanting a smart guy if all you do is put height and looks before brains?
By all means, get what you want, but this is ridiculous.
I'm curious, Mr. NoCreative4Name, if you enjoy harassing young women online about what they're seeking in a partner. I'd also be interested to know if this is some sort of sick, twisted pick-up line?
Not only do I feel slightly threatened by your tone, but I also can't help but wonder if you've been told once or twice, or many times probably, that you're "smart and fun, but just not cute. or tall". And now you're choosing to take out that pent-up aggression on me and my dating profile.
Based on your profile picture alone, which is indeed a massive close-up, I might be correct about the not cute part. Which is why I'm not entirely sure why you're messaging me in the first place. Except maybe to let it be known that you did in fact not enjoy my profile. Which is odd, because most people do.
oh well. win some, lose some.
As a side note: I do not have anywhere on my profile that I am only seeking tall, attractive, smart hotties. I'm slightly classier than that, come on people. But in all honesty, of course that's what I'm seeking. Isn't everyone?
Mr. NoCreative4Name I don't want to have to attack your character, but if you contact me again I will have no other choice than to call you a fat loser. So beware.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Mr. John Stamos
While I was on the aforementioned prowl with G this past weekend, we were approached by Mr. John Stamos & his friend, Mr. Uncle Joey.
... and then offered PBR's.
That's a Pabst Blue Ribbon, for you fancy folks.
Mr. John Stamos assured me that he wasn't a creep. Those of you who know me, you know I fall for this line quite often. Think about C$.
I've really got to get better at this whole flirting thing. Somebody, anybody - teach me your ways.
Naturally I played the Shy card. That's really actually all I know how to do. I can go from shy to embarrassing in about 8 drinks flat. Less, if they're Long Islands. Or it's a holiday.
Going against the advice of BFF "you never reveal the experiment to the subjects" meaning of course "do not tell men that you started a blog about being single", I slipped up. Mr. Stamos learned within 15 minutes of meeting me that I am a blogger. Oops. I even pulled up the website for him on his iPhone. Double oops.
Uh, except that he loved it and asked me out to dinner.
Or he felt bad for me and asked me out to dinner.
Isn't that what they call a 'win-win'?
Did I mention he's cute as hell?
Saturday night miracle.
... and then offered PBR's.
That's a Pabst Blue Ribbon, for you fancy folks.
Mr. John Stamos assured me that he wasn't a creep. Those of you who know me, you know I fall for this line quite often. Think about C$.
I've really got to get better at this whole flirting thing. Somebody, anybody - teach me your ways.
Naturally I played the Shy card. That's really actually all I know how to do. I can go from shy to embarrassing in about 8 drinks flat. Less, if they're Long Islands. Or it's a holiday.
Going against the advice of BFF "you never reveal the experiment to the subjects" meaning of course "do not tell men that you started a blog about being single", I slipped up. Mr. Stamos learned within 15 minutes of meeting me that I am a blogger. Oops. I even pulled up the website for him on his iPhone. Double oops.
Uh, except that he loved it and asked me out to dinner.
Or he felt bad for me and asked me out to dinner.
Isn't that what they call a 'win-win'?
Did I mention he's cute as hell?
Saturday night miracle.
Monday, July 16, 2012
On the Prowl
Let it be known that I use the phrase on the prowl to refer to any occasion in which I leave my apartment in search of hotties. So basically, every time I leave my apartment. It's a constant search.
Saturday night, I went out on the prowl with a good friend, G.
For the record, there are just as many weirdos offline, as there are online. We came across some real characters on our night out.
But the good news is, I didn't dance.
You're welcome.
Because my armpits have been unshaven for weeks - oh you read that correctly - weeks my friend. It's an absolute jungle under there. Please, tame your hard-on. This left me with two options: wear a cardigan all night or limit our bar hopping to venues with extremely poor lighting.
We went with the latter.
Who hangs out at dark bars? Creeps. and girls with hairy armpits. and men in houndstooth pea coats wearing studded sunglasses at night. and married men. and men who start fights over spilled beer. and men wearing leather skinny ties. and men whose only pick-up lines are "gotta smoke?" So not only are they not offering to buy us drinks, they're also attempting to bum something off us.
Whoever said chivalry was dead, might have been onto something.
Saturday night, I went out on the prowl with a good friend, G.
For the record, there are just as many weirdos offline, as there are online. We came across some real characters on our night out.
But the good news is, I didn't dance.
You're welcome.
Because my armpits have been unshaven for weeks - oh you read that correctly - weeks my friend. It's an absolute jungle under there. Please, tame your hard-on. This left me with two options: wear a cardigan all night or limit our bar hopping to venues with extremely poor lighting.
We went with the latter.
Who hangs out at dark bars? Creeps. and girls with hairy armpits. and men in houndstooth pea coats wearing studded sunglasses at night. and married men. and men who start fights over spilled beer. and men wearing leather skinny ties. and men whose only pick-up lines are "gotta smoke?" So not only are they not offering to buy us drinks, they're also attempting to bum something off us.
Whoever said chivalry was dead, might have been onto something.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
complications
Alright, Mr. AirCobra,
Let's be clear here. Just because I messaged you back one time to let you know I was 'flattered that you enjoyed my profile', it was by no means an open invitation to instant message me every time I'm on The Website. First off, stallion, I am so far out of your league that I don't even know how to break it to you. And now, thanks to you, I find it difficult, if not impossible, to prey on hotties in my area with you messaging me every 2 seconds and that stupid little IM box blinking like crazy. Translation: you are being, what they refer to as, a cockblock. I've noticed that you've also memorized the time frame in which I'm usually online, you little freakazoid. Thank you for spoiling my evening for the millionth night in a row. If you keep this crap up, I'll cancel that sympathy date. Unless you were planning on paying for sushi, then whatever fine. ONE date.
Ugh.
Let's be clear here. Just because I messaged you back one time to let you know I was 'flattered that you enjoyed my profile', it was by no means an open invitation to instant message me every time I'm on The Website. First off, stallion, I am so far out of your league that I don't even know how to break it to you. And now, thanks to you, I find it difficult, if not impossible, to prey on hotties in my area with you messaging me every 2 seconds and that stupid little IM box blinking like crazy. Translation: you are being, what they refer to as, a cockblock. I've noticed that you've also memorized the time frame in which I'm usually online, you little freakazoid. Thank you for spoiling my evening for the millionth night in a row. If you keep this crap up, I'll cancel that sympathy date. Unless you were planning on paying for sushi, then whatever fine. ONE date.
Ugh.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
what's in a name?
user names say just as much about a person, if not more, than their profile pictures.
redneckman: pass...
satanicgod666: I'm scared. no, really.
twilightfan_85: Yep. I'm sure you are.
circusasaurus: alrighty, not here to date clowns. sorry bud.
i_am_so_gangsta: sir I can assure you, you are not nearly as gangsta as you think.
2drunk2fuk: so I can already see how our first date will end.
hunchbackman: is this really how you chose to describe yourself?
super_decent: well, which are you? super or decent?
humorouz: the way you spelled humorous practically guarantees me that you are in fact, not funny
fizzixteacher: makes me thankful you aren't an engrishteecha
TheFunnest1: you'd be more fun if you learned how to use correct English
artfulslacker: you sound like the responsible, future-husband type.
imhittingonyou: I've noticed. and what I'm doing is called ignoring you.
chess314: It seems that I've already figured out your favorite pasttime, and the answer is no.
ImAGingerKid: no offence but yikes.
RunAwayFromMe: don't mind if I do
matlockmystery: somehow though, it is no mystery to me why you're available, Matlock.
kobebryant168: one million dollars says that is NOT your real name. liar.
numbnutnation: so is sex out of the question then, numb nuts?
MachoHelloKitty: don't care how macho you are, I say no.
I_Just_Strut: are you a rooster?
onesmarthuman: doubtful.
koolatron: hardly.
CastN0Shadow: yeah ok, Peter Pan
BaBaMeezy: have you any wool? yes sir, yes sir three bags full.
nedrocks: no, he doesn't.
TheGoop: is that a new STD?
dorkusmalorckus: are you seriously wondering why you're single?
hardcuddles: sounds uncomfortable
hornchampion: band nerd alert
iLoveCrepes: and iHateCreeps
TouchMyHair: what? no.
DoOrDonut: wft is a door donut?
aintnotben: double negatives are SO not a turn-on, Ben.
Not-From-MarsSF: but somehow you still strike me as the alien type
_Dr._Acula: nope, not into vampires
urescapefromlyf: I'm pretty sure urondrugzz
Man-O-LoveTaco: no words for this. literally.
Matt_is_a_Geek: Matt is also available, ladies
sapfest: did you by chance enjoy The Notebook?
SanFranPsyko: I will call the cops if you contact me.
seekingbromance: then I'm not quite sure why you're on this site...
LurkonMe1Time: sir, I will lurk on you no times
RhymeswithBay: hmmm... hay, stay, fray, ga-whoah wait a sec!
LeBronsTattoo: I doubt Lebron has you tattooed anywhere on his body.
iheartmarvel: no.
nerdnasty: you sound like my type of guy, you nasty nerd.
thrusty: translation=horny.
snugglesauras: how old are you, 4?
impregnatortron: o.m.g. WTF
any name containing the word dude or the number 69 was, and will continue to be, strictly ignored.
Oh, and you 'mrfuckface', well, you can go F yourself.
redneckman: pass...
satanicgod666: I'm scared. no, really.
twilightfan_85: Yep. I'm sure you are.
circusasaurus: alrighty, not here to date clowns. sorry bud.
i_am_so_gangsta: sir I can assure you, you are not nearly as gangsta as you think.
2drunk2fuk: so I can already see how our first date will end.
hunchbackman: is this really how you chose to describe yourself?
super_decent: well, which are you? super or decent?
humorouz: the way you spelled humorous practically guarantees me that you are in fact, not funny
fizzixteacher: makes me thankful you aren't an engrishteecha
TheFunnest1: you'd be more fun if you learned how to use correct English
artfulslacker: you sound like the responsible, future-husband type.
imhittingonyou: I've noticed. and what I'm doing is called ignoring you.
chess314: It seems that I've already figured out your favorite pasttime, and the answer is no.
ImAGingerKid: no offence but yikes.
RunAwayFromMe: don't mind if I do
matlockmystery: somehow though, it is no mystery to me why you're available, Matlock.
kobebryant168: one million dollars says that is NOT your real name. liar.
numbnutnation: so is sex out of the question then, numb nuts?
MachoHelloKitty: don't care how macho you are, I say no.
I_Just_Strut: are you a rooster?
onesmarthuman: doubtful.
koolatron: hardly.
CastN0Shadow: yeah ok, Peter Pan
BaBaMeezy: have you any wool? yes sir, yes sir three bags full.
nedrocks: no, he doesn't.
TheGoop: is that a new STD?
dorkusmalorckus: are you seriously wondering why you're single?
hardcuddles: sounds uncomfortable
hornchampion: band nerd alert
iLoveCrepes: and iHateCreeps
TouchMyHair: what? no.
DoOrDonut: wft is a door donut?
aintnotben: double negatives are SO not a turn-on, Ben.
Not-From-MarsSF: but somehow you still strike me as the alien type
_Dr._Acula: nope, not into vampires
urescapefromlyf: I'm pretty sure urondrugzz
Man-O-LoveTaco: no words for this. literally.
Matt_is_a_Geek: Matt is also available, ladies
sapfest: did you by chance enjoy The Notebook?
SanFranPsyko: I will call the cops if you contact me.
seekingbromance: then I'm not quite sure why you're on this site...
LurkonMe1Time: sir, I will lurk on you no times
RhymeswithBay: hmmm... hay, stay, fray, ga-whoah wait a sec!
LeBronsTattoo: I doubt Lebron has you tattooed anywhere on his body.
iheartmarvel: no.
nerdnasty: you sound like my type of guy, you nasty nerd.
thrusty: translation=horny.
snugglesauras: how old are you, 4?
impregnatortron: o.m.g. WTF
any name containing the word dude or the number 69 was, and will continue to be, strictly ignored.
Oh, and you 'mrfuckface', well, you can go F yourself.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Just Do It.
When it comes to attracting men, being shy & hopeful works just as well online as it does offline. Which is to say, it doesn't work.
At least not for me.
Friends, it is time for me to bring out my awkwardness and start messaging some hotties. or average-lookings. It turns out, I'm good at being both awkward and embarrassing. I would venture to say it might be my greatest talent. Ask any of my one-night-stand partners. Ehhh but actually, don't.
So here's to my first power-round of initiations.
Results to follow.
At least not for me.
Friends, it is time for me to bring out my awkwardness and start messaging some hotties. or average-lookings. It turns out, I'm good at being both awkward and embarrassing. I would venture to say it might be my greatest talent. Ask any of my one-night-stand partners. Ehhh but actually, don't.
So here's to my first power-round of initiations.
Results to follow.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
you really aught to try...
Alright, so my favorite part about being single is getting dating advice from my friends. Like they even know what the hell they're talking about...omg jk lolcatz luv U guyz
The best line lately was,
"you just gotta get out there - be active!"
Like I'm not active already. Beyonce please.
So to 'get out there' I ventured to Starbucks to get some work done. Work being a very generous term of course. Spying is really what I set out to do.
I carefully planned out my outfit :
college alumni shirt - to look relaxed
the fake glasses - to look intelligent
jeans - no explanation
moccasins - to look hip
laptop, textbooks, highlighters - whatever.
I sat at Starbucks for 2 hours, spying on anyone and everyone.
These are my observations:
- no cute baristas
- this location is a popular hangout for the geriatric types. aka old people.
- every attractive man who came in had a woman on his arm. oooor another man.
- every non-attractive man was, well, not attractive.
- every woman who came in had on cute yoga pants, which immediately made me self conscious.
- my reflection made me realize I looked more like a disgruntled Liz Lemon than the sexy-grad-student look I was so desperately trying for.
Or perhaps I didn't get approached because I looked too busy. too intelligent, too untouchable.
I probably should've gone into acting if that's the case.
I know if you were here you'd pat me on the back and tell me "Better luck next time, champ".
That's why we're such good friends.
The best line lately was,
"you just gotta get out there - be active!"
Like I'm not active already. Beyonce please.
So to 'get out there' I ventured to Starbucks to get some work done. Work being a very generous term of course. Spying is really what I set out to do.
I carefully planned out my outfit :
college alumni shirt - to look relaxed
the fake glasses - to look intelligent
jeans - no explanation
moccasins - to look hip
laptop, textbooks, highlighters - whatever.
I sat at Starbucks for 2 hours, spying on anyone and everyone.
These are my observations:
- no cute baristas
- this location is a popular hangout for the geriatric types. aka old people.
- every attractive man who came in had a woman on his arm. oooor another man.
- every non-attractive man was, well, not attractive.
- every woman who came in had on cute yoga pants, which immediately made me self conscious.
- my reflection made me realize I looked more like a disgruntled Liz Lemon than the sexy-grad-student look I was so desperately trying for.
Or perhaps I didn't get approached because I looked too busy. too intelligent, too untouchable.
I probably should've gone into acting if that's the case.
I know if you were here you'd pat me on the back and tell me "Better luck next time, champ".
That's why we're such good friends.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
omg. THIS JUST IN...
Guys. I recieved my 2nd message.
I'll share it with you. I know you're just as excited as I am.
Well I am sure you get a ton of messages every day and it's hard to read them all, so hopefully you will read this and even reply. I loved your profile; you are beautiful and I would love to talk more if you are up to it. I am pretty cool, kinda funny (well I have my moments :)). So hit me back, I promise I will make you laugh a lot, or just a little, who knows :p
I'll start by admitting I'm flattered.
Mr. AirCobra thinks that I am receiving so many messages that it's nearly impossible to read them all. I really got a good laugh out of that part. Hopefully you did too. I wonder if he uses that line on all the chicks he picks up online? I'm not too sure how I feel about him making these promises about me laughing at him and all that. Seems a bit pretentious. Don't even get me started on the parenthesis with the emoticon, that's always awkward when they're right next to each other like that. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then nevermind. I have also never been a fan of the emoticon with the tongue sticking out, just for the record.
So Mr. AirCobra - I'm hoping that sounding pathetic isn't your only pick-up scheme. However, I am also wondering how well it's been working out for you? I'm looking for a technique that yields fast results. I'm actually starting to feel bad for you though, anyone who describes themselves as 'pretty cool' and 'kinda funny' must not have anything going for them. It seems that a sympathy date is in order. So yes, yes I am up for talking to you more.
Well played, Mr. AirCobra. Well played.
I'll share it with you. I know you're just as excited as I am.
Well I am sure you get a ton of messages every day and it's hard to read them all, so hopefully you will read this and even reply. I loved your profile; you are beautiful and I would love to talk more if you are up to it. I am pretty cool, kinda funny (well I have my moments :)). So hit me back, I promise I will make you laugh a lot, or just a little, who knows :p
I'll start by admitting I'm flattered.
Mr. AirCobra thinks that I am receiving so many messages that it's nearly impossible to read them all. I really got a good laugh out of that part. Hopefully you did too. I wonder if he uses that line on all the chicks he picks up online? I'm not too sure how I feel about him making these promises about me laughing at him and all that. Seems a bit pretentious. Don't even get me started on the parenthesis with the emoticon, that's always awkward when they're right next to each other like that. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then nevermind. I have also never been a fan of the emoticon with the tongue sticking out, just for the record.
So Mr. AirCobra - I'm hoping that sounding pathetic isn't your only pick-up scheme. However, I am also wondering how well it's been working out for you? I'm looking for a technique that yields fast results. I'm actually starting to feel bad for you though, anyone who describes themselves as 'pretty cool' and 'kinda funny' must not have anything going for them. It seems that a sympathy date is in order. So yes, yes I am up for talking to you more.
Well played, Mr. AirCobra. Well played.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
a lesson in profile pictures
So hopefully you can tell by now, I'm a girl who knows what she wants... or just a shallow bitch.
Regardless, let's chat about profile pictures.
Because we humans are just visual, physical creatures, I rank profile pictures as the number one indicator as to whether or not I will be pursing a potential suitor.
If the profile is a 'personal ad' (which it is), then pictures are essentially a large part of the marketing scheme. The best part is, you get to choose which pictures go up on your profile. This allows you an opportunity to post the most flattering pictures of yourself that you possibly have.
Having said that, I can tell by profile pictures alone, why some of these men are still on the dating market.
Sorry fellas, but you are so not getting a date if...
- none of your pictures look like they are even of the same person
- you're wearing sunglasses in every picture
- your picture is of you, eating a corn dog
- your picture is you wearing eyeliner, no clothes and a party hat covering up your wiener. I really wish I was joking about this one.
- you're flipping off the camera
- you're sipping on a fruity cocktail
- you've got a beer in both hands (you stay classy, San Diego)
- you're kissing another woman
- you photoshopped yourself sitting on a unicorn
- you're sporting a 'rock on' hand signal
- you're wearing a halloween costume
- your tongue is sticking out
- you're dressed as a woman
- you're wearing facepaint
- you're smoking (or rolling) a doobie
- you're holding a gun/knife/samurai sword/nun chucks or ANY OTHER WEAPON
or if these are your pictures:
sorry stud.
Regardless, let's chat about profile pictures.
Because we humans are just visual, physical creatures, I rank profile pictures as the number one indicator as to whether or not I will be pursing a potential suitor.
If the profile is a 'personal ad' (which it is), then pictures are essentially a large part of the marketing scheme. The best part is, you get to choose which pictures go up on your profile. This allows you an opportunity to post the most flattering pictures of yourself that you possibly have.
Having said that, I can tell by profile pictures alone, why some of these men are still on the dating market.
Sorry fellas, but you are so not getting a date if...
- none of your pictures look like they are even of the same person
- you're wearing sunglasses in every picture
- your picture is of you, eating a corn dog
- your picture is you wearing eyeliner, no clothes and a party hat covering up your wiener. I really wish I was joking about this one.
- you're flipping off the camera
- you're sipping on a fruity cocktail
- you've got a beer in both hands (you stay classy, San Diego)
- you're kissing another woman
- you photoshopped yourself sitting on a unicorn
- you're sporting a 'rock on' hand signal
- you're wearing a halloween costume
- your tongue is sticking out
- you're dressed as a woman
- you're wearing facepaint
- you're smoking (or rolling) a doobie
- you're holding a gun/knife/samurai sword/nun chucks or ANY OTHER WEAPON
or if these are your pictures:
Monday, July 9, 2012
the art of being picky
Although I'm typically a pretty flexible person, being picky is definitely something I've learned to be good at. A big shout-out & thank you (or an F-you, it depends) to all of my previous relationships, for helping me learn what it is that I am certainly not looking for. And a little bit of what I'm seeking.
You may find yourself wondering, 'Well what are you seeking?' After only a few hours of surfing the online dating pool, I have compiled a general sense of what to pass & what to pursue. Unfortunately for me, the ones I've chosen to pursue have yet to contact me back. Nothing quite like being rejected on a free dating website. More on that later.
In what I refer to as the Real World, generally speaking I have a list of criteria when it comes to looking at whether or not a second date is in order.
Will call you back:
- you tell me I look nice
- we maintain a good conversation
- you offer to pay
- you make me laugh
- you're dressed appropriately
- you're cute as hell
Will not call you back:
- your finger nails are longer than mine
- your finger nails are dirty
- you tell me you have a pet cat
- your teeth make me gag
- you're unemployed
- you have hair where it shouldn't be
- you're balding
- you tell me you love disney movies, or musicals
- you throw a recyclable item into the trash can
- you tell me you hate dogs
- you tell me you're obsessed with dogs
- you have a barb-wire tattoo on your biceps
- you leave your phone on the table during dinner
Will call the cops on you:
- you follow me home
- you show up at my work
- I google your name and the results scare me
In what I refer to as the Online World, I have now created a separate list of criteria when it comes to passing or pursuing men.
Pursue:
- ages 25-30
- single
- employed
- cute as hell
Pass:
- you refer to your beard as "face tentacles"
- you include baby pictures on your profile
- you mention anime. at all. ever.
- you have a unibrow
- you admit to loving pro-wrestling
- you have children my age
- you physically resemble any of my high school band directors
- you admit that on friday nights you enjoy "being a werepanda, roaming the streets of The City, in ravenous search of bamboo" I'm sorry. WTF
- you admit that you "aren't really a werepanda, it's just something I say to impress potential dates"
- you list sex as your favorite activity
- you're 30 but look 13
- you have facial tattoos - including the neck area
- your user name is 'mrfuckface'
- you list dandelions as your favorite flower
- you describe yourself as a 'dorkiosaurus rex'
- you're 25 but look 45
- you mention sex 3 or more times in your intro
- you're under 5'11"
- you have poor grammar or didn't use spell check
BLOCK:
- you ask for my address
- anyone who lists threesomes as one of the '6 items they can't live without'
- you send me a message telling me that you'd like to 'give me a sensual full-body massage with a happy ending'
It is possible to be both picky and desperate?
You may find yourself wondering, 'Well what are you seeking?' After only a few hours of surfing the online dating pool, I have compiled a general sense of what to pass & what to pursue. Unfortunately for me, the ones I've chosen to pursue have yet to contact me back. Nothing quite like being rejected on a free dating website. More on that later.
In what I refer to as the Real World, generally speaking I have a list of criteria when it comes to looking at whether or not a second date is in order.
Will call you back:
- you tell me I look nice
- we maintain a good conversation
- you offer to pay
- you make me laugh
- you're dressed appropriately
- you're cute as hell
Will not call you back:
- your finger nails are longer than mine
- your finger nails are dirty
- you tell me you have a pet cat
- your teeth make me gag
- you're unemployed
- you have hair where it shouldn't be
- you're balding
- you tell me you love disney movies, or musicals
- you throw a recyclable item into the trash can
- you tell me you hate dogs
- you tell me you're obsessed with dogs
- you have a barb-wire tattoo on your biceps
- you leave your phone on the table during dinner
Will call the cops on you:
- you follow me home
- you show up at my work
- I google your name and the results scare me
In what I refer to as the Online World, I have now created a separate list of criteria when it comes to passing or pursuing men.
Pursue:
- ages 25-30
- single
- employed
- cute as hell
Pass:
- you refer to your beard as "face tentacles"
- you include baby pictures on your profile
- you mention anime. at all. ever.
- you have a unibrow
- you admit to loving pro-wrestling
- you have children my age
- you physically resemble any of my high school band directors
- you admit that on friday nights you enjoy "being a werepanda, roaming the streets of The City, in ravenous search of bamboo" I'm sorry. WTF
- you admit that you "aren't really a werepanda, it's just something I say to impress potential dates"
- you list sex as your favorite activity
- you're 30 but look 13
- you have facial tattoos - including the neck area
- your user name is 'mrfuckface'
- you list dandelions as your favorite flower
- you describe yourself as a 'dorkiosaurus rex'
- you're 25 but look 45
- you mention sex 3 or more times in your intro
- you're under 5'11"
- you have poor grammar or didn't use spell check
BLOCK:
- you ask for my address
- anyone who lists threesomes as one of the '6 items they can't live without'
- you send me a message telling me that you'd like to 'give me a sensual full-body massage with a happy ending'
It is possible to be both picky and desperate?
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