Drinking & Shopping Do NOT Mix

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you know that yesterday was a fabulous Monday for me. For those of you who don’t, let me explain.

Yesterday was the opening day game for the Washington Nationals baseball team. The game was at 3:05 pm. “Wow… that’s perfect for people with 9-5 jobs!” … uhh syke. Luckily, my job is not your typical 9-5 thanks to a little thing I like to call “flex hours”.

Our flex hours are pretty common. They allow you to change your hours from the normal 9-5 (actually it’s 9-6 but I’ll just use 9-5 for the purpose of the example) to other hours like 8-4, 7-3, 10-6, etc. I interpreted this to mean, “Dude… I can come in at noon and stay till 8 pm! Fucking crucial!” The latest the flex hours start is 10 am… needless to say I’ve completely taken advantage of the flex hours and bended them to meet my extended sleeping needs. But hey, I’m getting in my 8 hours! (Most of the time anyways)

I showed up to work at noon and took off for the game at 2 pm. It was the best Monday maybe ever. Juicy also took off a few hours of work and came with me since I had two tickets. The only reason I got these tickets is because my dad gets season tickets but wasn’t able to take off any work (it’s big time busy season right now); but I’m not an accountant (thank God) so I jumped (literally) on the chance to go to opening day.

[I'm adding this next part in b/c it's too good to leave out]

Normally we have a parking pass so we can drive and park near the stadium. For this game my dad gave up the parking pass to the other two people using our other tickets to go to the game. So we have no parking pass. My dad and brother tell us to take metro (subway… whatever you call it). I hate metro. With a passion. I passionately hate metro. Juicy, being my best friend and being awesome, also hates metro. On our way driving to the metro station (we didn’t know what else to do) we’re talking about how much metro sucks and how long its gonna take and how the hell are we gonna find parking in the middle of the day; just your basic bitching really.

Then we get there and not only could we not find parking… we couldn’t even find the damn parking lot. In our genius heads we had decided to go to a metro station closer to our destination so that we would only have to be on metro for a short period of time. But that means we were both completely unfamiliar with this metro station. We start to get very frustrated; time ticking away. I announce that I have something we could, ahem, smoke. Two pm on a Monday… and she’s all for it. She’s already had two beers at lunch. I love this girl. So we do.

Right after, Juicy looks at me and says, “Lets just drive there.” I think, Brilliant! Then I come to my senses and ask if she knows where it is. She says no. We sit and think for a second. Juicy blurts out, “Maybe the address is on the tickets!” I dive into my purse, grab the tickets and hand one to Juicy so we can both scan them looking for an address. No luck. Juicy then proclaims, “Oh I know how to get there, don’t worry just start driving.” Ummmmm hmmmm.

There are many problems with this. 1) She’s totally lying. She has no idea where to go. 2) Nationals Park, although gorgeous, is in Southeast DC… literally in the middle of Anacostia. Non-DCers might not know what that means. I’m going to compare it to Compton. Anacostia is the DC version of Compton. I would not recommend driving or hanging around Anacostia… especially if you’re a little white girl. 3) With no parking pass, we have no idea where we are going to park… in Anacostia… where someone will probably break into my beautiful GiGi or steal her.  4) My laptop is in my car. 5) I have a whole closet in my car. 6) I have a huge purse with my checkbook and some credit cards in it (I switch purses a lot) in my car. 7) Landrovers stick out in Anacostia. 9) White girls in Landrovers blasting rap music really stick out in Anacostia. 10) We don’t have any weapons… or mace or anything except for stilettos to beat a potential mugger with. We are helpless, blond, snotty, designer wearing, ticket holding girls. Oh yeah and we’re kinda blazed. (I had to skip the #8 b/c it made a smiley face with sunglasses on… see

I tell Juicy this. She says that we should just valet the car in front of the stadium. I jump in my seat and turn to face her, “THEY HAVE VALET!?!?” I think I scared her, “Oh hahah nooo I was saying it would be cool if they did.” I pout and say it’s a damn good idea.  Then Juicy has a “duh” moment and says, “Uh, why don’t we use your navigation and put in the metro stop at the park?” Such amazing intelligence. I put it in; it works. She says maybe the metro station there has a parking garage. Good thinking. I agree that driving is the best bet (I really hate metro) and believe that we’ll be able to find somwhere semi-safe to park. All the other worries are forgotten and we head to the ghetto.

We actually found a parking garage right next to the stadium to park in so that was lucky. It was $30 though and I only had $15. Juicy had $1… so helpful.  I tried to talk my way through that one but, it’s pretty obvious… the garage attendant just wants my money. He tells me to park, go to an ATM and bring him the $$ before we go to the game; or he cant promise what will happen to my car. Great. Just great. Now Juicy and I are walking around Anacostia looking for an ATM. Really safe.

While waiting to cross the road we “met” some interesting characters; drug dealers I think they’re called. Very typical looking, coulda been in a movie. They whistled at our asses and said, “daaaayyyuum you hot”. Ugh the grammar makes me shudder. I replied, “Yeah, we know.” Juicy completely ignored them which was probably a good move. Then they heckled us for tickets and invited us to party with them until finally the light changed and we raced across the street. The same thing happened when we had to cross the street to get back. Like they forgot that whole episode had already happened. Idiots.

On our way back to the garage I tell Juicy that if I was a black girl, the black (drug dealer) with the red backwards hat would have been totally my type. She stares at me in disgust. “I know!” I explain, “That’s why I thank God every day that I’m white. My taste in men is awful! If I had been born a black girl; I would have loved guys like that.” Juicy starts to see where I’m going with this, “Uhhh yeah it’s a really good thing you’re white. You do like your men a lil ghetto.” I ponder this for a moment, “Holy shit, if I was black I’d probably have at least 5 kids by now!” Juicy adds, “Yup… and all from different baby daddy’s.”

Us in unison, “Eww. Thank God I’m/Your white.”

Our conversations are incredible.

Finally we give the garage guy the money and turn the other corner and behold… Nationals Stadium. It’s gorgeous. Anacostia doesn’t deserve it. It’s sad really, Anacostia has so much potential: They have a big pretty river… it’s in DC…. now they have a stadium. That’s all I can think of right now. Other than those things it’s a total wasteland. No offense, but it’s just on the wrong side of the river. And I normally stay away. Except on game day of course.

Here’s a very small Anacostia example…

Before the stadium

After the stadium

Before the stadium

After the stadium

Waterfront... and gorgeous

Ok last picture

Anyways… it’s a very scary place with bars on windows or boarded up windows and if I had wanted crack I’m pretty sure I could have scored some in less than 5 seconds. When I first starting driving at 16 my dad told me, “If you’re ever on 395 and you see signs for Anacostia, you’re going the wrong way and you need to turn around… but don’t turn around in Anacostia, find somewhere else to turn around. Do not go into Anacostia.” Because of his words I basically just stay away from 395 altogether. Even to this day I’m pretty clueless when it comes to 395. I only know it goes to Anacostia, and I know I don’t wanna be there. One time in highschool bff and I were trying to find a club downtown and ended up in Anacostia around midnight on a Saturday. I’ve never been so scared in my life.

[Ok back to original writing]

The game was fab. We hardly watched any of it but I got some amaaazing people watching in. We drank a ridiculous amount of Miller Light. We tried to sweet talk our way into club seats. The “bouncer” guy told us to come back next game and he’d let us in (opening day was sold out). The Nat’s almost coulda possibly won after a two run homer in the 9th. But… of course… they lost. 9-8… Not a bad game.

After the game we went to a bar/restaurant at the mall to meet with Juicy’s new boy toy turned possible boyfriend. Two raspberry martini’s in I decide I have to have a fedora and I have to have it now. I stand and announce that I’m going to Urban Outfitters to buy a fedora. Boy toy looks at me like I may have lost it but Juicy’s used to me doing stuff like this. She gives me her credit card and tells me to buy her something awesome that she’ll love. I say Yay; and off I go.

I’m drunk at this point btw. The mall closes in 30 minutes and the last time I went into Urban to buy “one” thing… well, I didn’t leave with only one thing. This is why I think I probably have a shopping problem: When I walked into Urban Outfitters, I got high just by looking around at the clothes. Yeah.

The fedora falls to the back of my mind and I start picking things I love off of tables and racks barely looking at price tags. I get to the back of the store and see a fedora… for some reason a very faint bell begins ringing in my head. I pause to contemplate the ringing. Then came the “AhA!” moment and I pick up every fedora I see and take all my stuff to the register. I demand that the sales guy help me decide which fedora to get. I put on every fedora for this guy and we narrow it down to two: The same style, one’s black and one’s brown. He actually told me I was too blond for the black one but I liked it. Sales guy criticism only goes so far in my book.

They don’t have the brown one in my size and I mentally say “HA!” to the sales guy and decide to buy the black one. He rings up all my stuff… if I hadn’t been drunk I would have had a panic attack. But I was drunk, so I just whip out my credit card, flip my hair a bit and tell him to hold the brown fedora for me when they get it in my size b/c I will be coming back to buy it.

Cut to this morning.

I wake up around noon. Exhausted. Shower and start to get ready. I see a huge Urban Outfitters bag in the corner of my room. I have a small shopping flashback. Oh no. I rummage through the bag to see what I bought…

Before I continue I have to point this out. The necklace I bought, although it’s freagin awesome and I love it, is an initial necklace. At the time of my purchase I did not realize this at all and just got the first one I saw; with the initial B on it. What does B stand for??? Hell if I know. I’m an idiot though, I know that. I’m gonna say it stands for BAMF. Or possibly, “This is what you get when you Binge drink.” Maybe it should just stand for Bad decision, or Big mistake. The possibilities are endless really.

There’s more. Urbanoutfitters.com doesn’t have the other stuff I bought listed =( so I’ll just tell you about it. I got a new brown purse/clutch, a black vest that has a tuxedo front, a bottle-opening silver ring, a black racerback tank top that says Broke is the New Black (that was for Juicy but she said it had negative energy and couldn’t wear it. So I’m keeping it), and of course… my fedora. I think that’s all. I think. Unfortunately, this is the only pic I have of the fedora.

Please don’t ask what I’m doing… it’s kind of a long story. I really don’t think I could have pulled off that look on my face sans fedora. They just make you feel super bad ass. Even though I spent half a paycheck at Urban, I think I’m gonna go back and get the brown one too. I’m also going to return the black vest. I might return some other stuff but I have to try it all on first. OH AND I got earrings. Forgot about those.

See… that’s why I try to stay away from the mall. I fuckin love that hat though.

Couldn’t Help Myself

A few minutes ago I was about to close down my computer and leave work. For some unknown reason I decided I wanted to check out the ex’s facebook page. I really don’t know why I do this sometimes. I don’t care what he’s doing, I don’t care about him, I don’t even like him. So I def don’t miss him. Ew no. But I do know that checking his fb page isn’t really normal I guess… that’s why it’s bookmarked in the folder entitled “weirdo”. I know I know. But I don’t care what you think. I think I do it for the same reasons I check anyones fb page… to prove by visual evidence that I’m awesomer than them. Case closed.

Obviously I’m still awesomer than he is; we aren’t even on the same level. He did write  something pretty funny on his (and all of his friends’) wall(s) though… and I’m not giving him credit for it b/c I know he didn’t come up with it. Nothing he ever did or said was original. But I wanted to share it. Ok, it was funny at first. Now, after ten minutes… not as funny, but still… I didn’t just write all that intro for nothing now did I?

Redneck Word of the Day: OBAMA

I bought me a case of beer and drank it obama self

I can hear him saying it ugghh in my head and then he laughs b/c he’s soooo clever. Gross. Puke my face off. I think Republican was his only redeeming feature. And I actually never really knew he was Republican till now. Wow did we have a shallow relationshit or what.

Beware of the Crazies

I think I wrote a time or two about this guy, BoRo, that I met at a bar a couple weeks ago. He’s really really really into me. I know this b/c he tells me, “I like you a lot, like I really really like you a lot”, so I’m translating that to mean, “I really really like you, a lot.” He’s one of the most eager beavers I’ve ever met. He calls to ask me on dates. Real dates.

Real dates kinda freak me out. I went on two short dates with him and then he asked me out for last Tuesday night to, “Go to a nice dinner in the city and then maybe out.” I said sure. Come Tuesday night I was feeling the opposite of excited about the date so I called and politely bailed saying that my mom had made this big dinner for me and my dad was out of town so I felt bad. He forgave me in half a second and asked me out for Friday night (same date dinner theme). I said alright, still not excited at all. I honestly just wished he would go away b/c I’m not interested in dating him but couldn’t find any good reasons that would justify my wish. Aka: there was nothing blatantly wrong with him.

He calls Wednesday, texts Wednesday, he cannot wait to see me and he wishes it was Friday so we were already hanging out, he leaves a voicemail. He calls and texts Thursday, same gist of the messages, he calls and texts Friday… more messages. I start to feel an enormous sense of being completely overwhelmed. When I finally check my voicemail (I usually wait till I have at least 8 in my box) 7 messages in a row are from him. I full on freak out.

In his last message he tells me he’s been planning the date out with his sister-in-law (not that he talks about me a lot but they were talking and I just happened to come up in conversation, bla bla bla) and I have 2 choices for dinner: Nice sushi place or nice Latin place in DC. I haven’t called this guy back since Tuesday. At 5 o’clock on Friday (and 6 texts from him later) I finally start to feel bad and texted him, “sushi! is it too late?” but then start freaking out again b/c I don’t wanna go at all. He texts back and surprisingly says, “no its ok, I don’t wanna go anymore. You don’t sound like you want to go and I don’t wanna be that guy.” I’m shocked to the core. I go from freaked out to almost a little impressed with his perceptiveness. In my state of shock I call Juicy to tell her what he said. I’m relieved I don’t have to deal with the date anymore but also a little let down that he gave up. It’s so fun to have guys pursue you.

While on the phone with Juicy, 2 minutes later, he texts again. The slight impressed feeling vanishes and the shock totally subsides; he’s insecure with his previous decision to call off the date, “I mean, oh no, did you wanna go? I still really wanna go I just thought you didn’t wanna go and you’re so hard to get in touch with so I didn’t know.” Vomit in my mouth. Juicy is disgusted with the newest text. I let her listen to a voicemail from him and she tells me that she thinks he sounds pretty crazy.

He texts me again and then calls. I’m not gonna be able to avoid him the way I had hoped. Juicy and Pancey are going to Hooters for drinks after work and I really wanted to meet them up there. I love hooters. It’s such a happy place. I call Bo (with Juicy on my office speaker phone) and tell him I cant do the date, but would he like to meet me and my friends at Hooters. He’s all for it. I still feel a little bad so I send him a facebook friend request before I leave work. This is when the crazy comes out.

I get home and he texts me, “So you sent me a facebook friend request eh?” Yes obviously I did you idiot. Then he calls me. I pick up. He sounds anxious, nervous and cracked out on Ritalin or something. The conversation goes a little like this…

BoRo: “Heyyy, soo facebook friends now officially, like omg!”

“yup…”

BoRo: “Well, don’t delve to deep into all my pictures or anything.”

“Umm ok, I think you should repeat that you yourself.”

BoRo: “HA! Right, Right. HA HA. Ohhh wow. You’re funny.  So I tried to put up that I was engaged to you but facebook has these stupid security precautions that make no sense at all but completely make sense and wouldn’t let me put your name without your permission. It said it sent you an engagement request, so I guess you have that waiting for you. Ha ha.”

“Wait… I’m sorry… are you serious?”

BoRo: “yup.”

“Oh. K…. ” (thinking to self, holy SHIT what a creeper)

I call Juicy immediately to tell her. She points out that not only is this creepy as hell, but this also means he hasn’t been in a relationship since facebook was started b/c he didn’t even know about relationship requests. Was that 2004? That’s insane.

To make Hooters a long story short; he was totally off the wall weird and awkward. Spastic even. Pancey’s bf was drunk and invited him back to their place (to be nice) and he accepted. Fuckin fuck. So we all go hang at Pancey’s and she has some other people over. I wan’t to kill BoRo at this point just to make him go away. Finally it’s late and I drive him back to his car. He doesn’t wanna go back to his car. He wants to go eat at Denny’s or Ihop. I tell him that sounds totally awful and I just wanna go home b/c it’s 2:30 in the morning. He freaks, “But I never get to hang out with you! I had to share you the whole night! When is it just gonna be you and me??” I tell him I have no idea what he’s talking about and that we just met 2 weeks ago. He says I don’t understand. He is such a girl. He tries to kiss me and I pull back and don’t let him. I tell him I’m just not feelin it. To which he responds, “ReaLLY?!? I mean, seriously?!?!? HOW?!” I have no idea, I’m just not. Sorry.

He looks like a punished puppy as he gets outta the car. I drive off. He calls, I ignore. He calls and texts 5 times the next day. I ignore. Come on kid, take a hint. Sunday was the climax of our “relationship”, ew I just cringed saying that word.

He texted me 20 times in a row and in between these texts managed to call me 7 times… maybe more. I left my phone at C’s last night but these were basically the texts…

are you like never gonna talk to me again?

Omg did I like, totally blow it with you?

I wish you would text me back or call me back so I know you’re alive, I just really like you and feel like we would be really great together.

He calls me, twice.

(I text back, “sorry, you just really freaked me out.”)

OH NO! I’m so sorry I acted so wild Friday night! I knew that was gonna happen, I shouldn’t have smoked before I went to Hooters. I really am a great guy I wish you would give normal BoRo just one more chance…

I promise it’ll be really fun and normal.

(I don’t answer)

I really liked your friends too I had so much fun just let me take you out one more time I promise you wont regret it.

(I’m hanging out at my brother’s place and he tells me that BoRo sounds like a freak of nature and that I should de-friend him on facebook. So, I do, immediately.)

30 seconds later…

OMG YOU DEFRIENDED ME! Holy shit, wow. Sorry I guess I’ll never call you again. It was great to meet you.

20 seconds later he calls, and then he calls again!! I don’t answer.

(I text back, “yeaahhhh…. sorry, my mom has facebook and I don’t need her reading photo comments like, “my new profile picture” under pictures of my backside in a bikini.” He seriously made a photo comment like that which I deleted)

He calls again.

I really wish you would answer your phone, it’s so much easier than texting.

(I don’t answer) 3 min later…

Well sorry I didn’t cut the mustard (I’m sorry WHAT!?!?)

It wouldn’t have worked out anyways, you’re kind of a huge nerd and all straight laced. you need like a short military guy you can bitch around. ha ha ha.

(He doesn’t stop, this guy has NO pride and has the brain of a 5 year old)

Oh and you have chronic bad breath and you may or may not be a lesbian. ha ha! See ya!

Oh and your friends are lame. Bye for real.

Have fun at Hooters on Friday nights. I shoulda taken one of them home with me but nooooooo…. I was stuck with YOUR lame ass.

All that in the span of ohhhhh 30 minutes maybe. It was ridiculous. Anyone know how to block numbers on verizon phones? This guy is insane and is definitely on some serious Ritalin. Or he should be. So… no more BoRo! Ever ever again. In fact, I think I can just cross all future Bo’s off the list b/c I really really hate that name. Oh btw, I totally had a facebook engagement request waiting for me when I signed on to defriend him… his profile status: Engaged. I shit you not.

My Soul is a Popsicle

Ok so saying my soul is a Popsicle is a little melodramatic… um shit balls. I just lost my train of thought… I was watching a ‘Slap Chop’ commercial (late night television). ugh dammit.

Oh right Popsicle. I’ve become cold. It’s sad really. The reason is even sadder. I’ve become a dating perfectionist. My standards are ridiculous. I feel like I may die a very sad and adorable old maid.

Brace yourselves if you give a damn. I don’t really care if you do or not, it’s just been a while since I talked about it and I need to get it out. Ok I kinda care if you care… I’m a people pleaser. I can’t help it. And a little bit of a stone cold bitch…

I’m totally still head over stilettos for that stupid good for absolutely only one or two possibly three things famous fucking boy. FUCK. Fucking Fuckitty Fuck Fucky.

I think my time with famous boy has literally scarred me for life. No one can measure up. NO ONE. He was my perfect. FUCK.

I’ve been on two dates this past week and last week with this new guy I met randomly at a bar. I haven’t mentioned him before this post. My friends and I were getting ready to leave the bar and this guy walks in. So I’m all wasty faced and I think he’s really cute and I’m kinda drawn to him so I just stare at him…. b/c that’s my drunk game. That’s all I’ve got after 5 or 6 drinks. ..Stare hard.

He stares back though. And looks seriously interested. Hmm, cool, staring works. Then after 30 seconds, he comes over and tells me I’m really cute and asks for my number. So I give it to him. He calls me the next evening to set up a date. We decide Wednesday. He calls Tuesday night to confirm (seriously) and then Wednesday evening to say he’s on his way. No petty texting, no facebook friend requests, no drunken phone calls. None of that. So far everything has been completely chivalrous. It’s kind of incredible. It’s one of the reasons I went on a second date with him. That AND the fact that he’s just totally hilarious. He gets my humour. He’s sarcastic, he’s republican, he’s tall, he’s kinda built, he’s 25, he loves dogs, his parents (Creeeeepy fact) were separated for 10 years when he was a kid and then they got back together (mine did that too). I had never met anyone else who’s parents did that. He said he only knew one, and it was his sister-in-law’s parents. ANyways, he’s adorable and we have a great time together. He loves me. Basically. He keeps saying he likes me a lot. He says it…uhh.. a lot.

I don’t say it back. I laugh. B/c I have the soul of a popsicle. And I wan’t my famous boy (who isn’t really my famous boy at all) but I want him. I can’t get over it. I’m not just completely superficial either. I mean, I can find a pretty boy like anywhere. That’s not hard. It’s finding someone that really sparks your interest and is freagin INTERESTING. Is interesting too much to ask for??!?!?

I mean Jessussss, I’m about to cry. It’s probably that xanax but I’m just so sick of wanting someone I can’t have and who doesn’t want me. It’s annoying. Everyone else wants me (stick with me I know that sounded really really stuck up) but it’s like I’m fighting off these stupid boys. Even this decent new one I’m not satisfied with at all. I’m not even open to the idea of dating him for real in any kinda long term dating scenario. The free meals and wine have been nice though.

It’s like I’m just stuck on him. I only want famous boy. And I feel like I would want him even if he wasn’t famous. I just really like him. I got to know him and he is just really cool, totally my type and I don’t get it. I mean I do but it’s just not fair. I dunno what to do or how to get over him or stop comparing new guys to him. I don’t want new guys. I don’t even care about new guys. They’re just to keep me semi un-bored till… till I dunno… till famous boy realizes I’m the one?

I’m completely psychotic and need to snap out of it. Sheesh. I just got a feeling ya know? The last time I had that feeling about a boy it took 8 months for us to start dating and it was the most passionate relationship I’ve ever had. It lasted a year and a few months. It wasn’t meant to be, but he was a crazy person (yes, the ex). So, I feel like this feeling happens for a reason and I just have to wait. I can wait. Be Patient. And in the meantime get toned, tan, figure out my life direction… ya know, whatever.

I kinda feel bad for this new boy though, lets call him BoRo. I dunno what to do about this. I think he wants a relationship. And I cant give him that. B/c I’m waiting for famous boy. (that sounds SOOO pathetic) Ok I’m not exactly waiting, but I just don’t want anything else. Nothing else will make me happy and b/c I just can’t do relationships unless I want them. You can’t force anything on me. Basically I have to be the one to decide I want it. Which sounds backwards. But the times it worked (once?) it was mutual…. and I think that’s the way it should be. Mutual. So I’m waiting for Mr. Mutual I guess.

I mean Come ONNNN BoRo drives a Ford Focus. Ok now I really am crying. NEVER Blog on Xanax. Just don’t do it. And don’t get emotionally attached to boys if you can help it. Esp ones who are perfect for you and drive your dream car– (Which just so happens to be the big brother SUV to your SUV and be the ying to your yang… or yang to your ying or whatever)

Big sigh. And a…

Fuck.

(Did I say that already?)

Night Y’all. I will probably be dreaming of famous boy. B/c seriously he’s all I dream about recently. It’s fucking pathetic and I wish it would stop. Or I wish he would call me and say “I’ve wanted you for forever since the day I met you” and then I’d say, “I know, I knew the whole time”.

So that’s what’s goin on right now…

And don’t even get me started on politics.

Is This Normal?

The past two nights I’ve had wicked awful insomnia. Laying in bed till 6am trying to relax my forehead and shoulders, trying to clear my head from the ridiculous amount of thoughts streaming through my brain a million miles a second and trying to remember how I used to go to sleep so easily.

I was one of those “head hits the pillow and she’s out” kinda girls. Not recently. Last night I resorted to counting and focusing on breathing. I got to 244 before boredom took over my brain and the thoughts began again.

I think about the weirdest stuff. 3am in the morning and I’m thinking about blogging of all things. Not only am I thinking about blogging, I’m thinking about thinking about blogging. Does that make sense? I get anxiety about getting all my thoughts in writing (an impossible task). I’m a complete nutcase.

It doesn’t help that I ran out of xanax three days ago. In fact, it’s the opposite of help. Thankfully I can pick more up today so hopefully I’ll get some sleep tonight. Probably not though since I leave for Florida at 5:30 in the morning and I haven’t packed yet. So I’ll probably be up till 2. FML.

My face is rebelling against my new sleep patterns. Rebelling in the form of a massive zit an inch above my lip. Like a boil. Ugh. It was one of those “under the skin” for 3 days and might not have even surfaced but I’m OCD (self-proclaimed). So what did I do? 2 nights ago I decide to pick at it even though I couldn’t even really see it yet. I was determined to get it off my face. It didn’t work. At all. Never try to dig a zit out of your skin, it will only make it 100 times worse.

So needless to say I’ve had a couple of really ugly days. Days where makeup is shunned b/c it wont even make a difference. On the bright side I’ve been tanning a few times and no longer have a sick pale tint to my skin. I semi-glow. I’m praying that this monster on my face is healed by tomorrow so I can enjoy my vacation. Please pray for me.

The Juicy Bitch Fest

I freaked the fuck out. Freaking the fuck out= I lost all sense of what is considered socially acceptable means of communicating and acting. So although I know I should be held responsible for my actions… I’m not going to claim responsibility.

I walked up to them and stood right next to the bed. And just fucking stood there.

Juicy: What the fuck are you doing?

Me: Nothing. Just chillin in my room.

Juicy: Wellll… why are you just fucking standing there?!? That’s really creepy.

Me: Well if you’re going to have sex in our room when I want to go to bed, you’re going to have to do it in front of me b/c I’m not putting up with this shit anymore.

Juicy: Are you fucking serious.

Me: Totally.

At this point everyone (British boy, Juicy and I) all just pause for a few moments to evaluate the situation.

Since I last wrote, more things have come to light through talking with British boy and Juicy about the details of the bitch fest. British boy says that while we were all “evaluating” the situation, I was massaging his package with a wicked grin on my face.

Yeah. FML.

When he first told me this I adamantly denied it b/c I didn’t remember that at all. Why the hell would I do that anyways?!? Massage his package?!? No, I don’t think so. Even Juicy said that didn’t sound like something I would do.

Then he told me that he had pants on at the time so I wasn’t actually touching his balls. When he told me that I had a tiny, quick blurry flashback in which I indeed kind of remember doing exactly that. What the fuck is wrong with me.

They now call me “The Hands” even though I still completely deny doing it.

Back to bitchfest.

So I guess I’m massaging his package while Juicy has her back to me (on top of him) so she doesn’t see any of this go down thank God. Continue bitching:

Juicy: Seriously WHAT the FUCK get OUT of here!!!

Me: I’m not going ANYWHERE! This is SO fucking disrespectful I would NEVER do this to you! I don’t care HOW LONG it’s been since you’ve gotten laid this is NOT Ok!

That’s the line for Juicy. I have just revealed that it’s been a good while since she got laid therefor making her look kind of desperate. She jumps up and we’re face to face now.

Juicy: YOU’RE SUCH A BITCH! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE FOR A FEW MINUTES!? THIS IS NOT A BIG DEAL!!!

Me: IT IS A BIG DEAL AND I’M NOT A BITCH! YOU’RE BEING A BITCH YOU FUCKING WHORE!!

Juicy: OMG YOU’RE BEING SO FUCKING RIDICULOUS YOU’RE LIKE A CHILD!!

Me: NO I’M NOT! DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO TURN THIS AROUND ON ME YOU KNOW THIS IS NOT COOL AND YOU WOULD NEVER PUT UP WITH THIS IF THE TABLES WERE TURNED! YOU’RE BEING SUCH A SHITTY FRIEND!

Juicy: FUCK YOU!!

Me: FUCK YOU FIRST!!

Yes, that’s always my response to a “fuck you”… fuck you first bitch. Always. B/c really… what else can you say after a “fuck you”? If an argument has gone that far I don’t think clever comebacks are required or even necessary. I always love being first though.

Unfortunately… this is where I pretty much blacked out although I know the fight continued and escalated a little more. Fortunately it didn’t get physical b/c that would have been awful. We have the potential to tear each other to shreds. Seriously.

So I wake up the next morning and climb down off my bunk. Juicy and British boy are still asleep (I thought) so I immodestly start changing. I can hear people moving around upstairs and I know that means they’re cleaning up the house. So I climb back in bed b/c cleaning is the last thing I wanna do.

Then Sean walks in b/c cleaning is evidently not his forte either. British boy and Juicy wake up and we all start talking about the night before; the recorder band, the acoustic roasting of the cabin, etc. It’s then that I realize that Juicy and I got in a huge fight.

Me: OMG! We got in a huge fight last night!

Juicy: Holy shit. Holy shit. You’re right! OMG we never fight!

Me: I KNOW!

Juicy: What were we even fighting about??

Ok…I may not remember details, but I do remember what the fight was over. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna bring it up again though.

Me: I have no idea… Holy shit.

Juicy: Omg that’s so funny. I wonder what it was about.

Me: I think it had something to do with you and British boy having sex in the room… maybe

Juicy: Oh…

I can tell it’s about to get uncomfortable and I look at Sean. Then I remember that after the acoustic roasting I went to smoke one last cig before bed (I do this when I’m drunk) and he followed me out to the porch and tried to make out with me. By “try” I mean… he made out with me. And yeah I guess I kissed him back, but no I didn’t accept the invitation to his room. Thank God. And no I didn’t really like it. (aka wouldn’t do it again. Ever.)

So I blurt out, “OMG you tried to make out with me last night!”

No one even pays attention to me. I know, sad. I hate it when you say something spur of the moment and it turns out to be the wrong moment to have said that. Like, when someone else is talking so no one hears you. But then you cant repeat it b/c it was one of those light bulb moments that would come across as fake and staged the second time you say it. You can’t act surprised twice. So I’m not sure anyone heard me b/c no one reacted. =(

More minutes pass and Juicy asks Sean why he’s just standing in our doorway… does he have no where else to go? She’s really subtle like that. Sean makes some lame excuse about going to see what the others are doing and leaves, poor guy. I go to find .5 and tell her the amazing story.

A few hours later we all pack up and head home. The ride home takes barely over 2 hours. Juicy and I are totally fine.

I love love loooove this about her. She gets over stuff just as fast as I do. It’s amazing. It’s like nothing ever happened but we both have the satisfaction of getting a good bitchfest in. 5 hours after the fact and we’re already laughing about it. I love my friends.

Unrelated Note of Stupidity

Holy flying groundhog balls I am Retarded. This whole day I’ve been putting Wednesday and Hump day on everything and it’s fucking Tuesday!!!

WHY DID NO ON TELL ME IT’S TUESDAY!? HOW AM I THIS RETARDED?

Uggghhh this is gonna be a long week.

Why Bella Has No Social Life?

When I was 18 I was celebrating my high school  graduation (I graduated on my birthday, literally), enjoying my last summer at home (as a high school student) with my friends going to parties, concerts, etc. and packing up my massive amount of stuff to head off to college. Seems normal enough.

As we all know, Hollywood isn’t really the definition of normal. So I guess it makes sense that Kristen Stewart (Bella in the Twilight movies) hasn’t finished  high school. That’s Ok though… she has more money and exposure than I’ll probably ever have (hopefully not but… I’m just being realistic… or pessimistic or whatever). More power to her.

My dad always says “life’s not fair” and so far he’s always been right. Including now. I came across these photos on the Internet the other day and I now envy Kristen Stewart even more. A 24 year old jealous of an 18 year old… ugh.

Behold… Bella smokes pot.

I’m sorry but when I see a Hollywood actress who’s made out to be lil miss wholesome say “paparazzi be damned” and smoke a bowl on her front (or back) porch I get a little giddy. So this kind of made my day. Not only that… look how freagin normal she looks. Her whole outfit could be from Wal-Mart. Gray men’s sweats and what looks like a Hanes x-large little boys wife beater. I’m in heaven. She even checks herself out maybe to make sure the munchies aren’t affecting her waistline…

Yes Kristen, you’re still skinny as shit. It gets better. I’ve never ever done this to my dog, but her dog looks like he/she’s used to it. And I’ve definitely had many friends from college do this. I’m pretty sure she gets her dog high too…

I know I sound like a pothead or a green party supporter with all these posts about weed, but I’m not. I just know that a lot of people smoke pot (esp teenagers and young 20 somethings) and obviously it doesn’t mean you’re gonna live in your moms basement till your 40. She looks like she’s got a nice little setup wherever she lives. And here I am still living with my parents. Life’s not fair.

But question… Who’s the guy with her? I’m guessing it’s her boyfriend but I can’t remember his name. His hair looks very Edwardish. So if Kristen has the same tastes as Bella… Maybe this explains why she had no social life in Forks, as well as the blank pages of months in New Moon. Smoke that pain away Bella. Whatever makes you feel better.

Ok enough with the drug talk. More socially acceptable topics coming soon =)

High Maintenance… Who Me?

I’d never really given it much thought.

Paris Hilton is High Maintenance ( I would think). Dolly Parton… probably high maintenance. But me? I can roll outta bed and be at work in 30 minutes flat. Sometimes I forget to brush my teeth and go days without showering b/c I can’t find the time. Seriously. I wore a hat to work two days ago to cover the greasy frizzy mess on top of my head. Granted it was an adorable slouchy beret and I got massive compliments for it, but still… I’m pretty sure I smelled bad (how French of me).

This past weekend (Friday to be exact) a good guy friend of mine, we’ll call him Shizzam (Shizz for short), invited me to go to an ‘invite only’ club downtown that I’ve been dying to go to. He got hooked up with a table and with that comes a red velvet rope around your VIP leather couches, 3 bottles of Kettle One in an ice bucket, cranberry juice, orange juice, red bull, bottled water, cheese, crackers & fruit, champagne, and chicken fingers. Yes, this club gives chicken fingers to people willing to shell out over $500 on a table. Amazing, I know.

We had been there for a couple hours getting drunk and dancing when I had to go to the bathroom. I put my glass down on the table and didn’t worry about it since our area was roped off from the masses. When I got back my drink was gone. The club staff must have cleared it from the table thinking I had abandoned it or was done. I pouted.

Shizz’s roommate (Jed) saw my pouting and was quick to try to make me happy again. He picked up one of the clean cups stacked on the table, filled it with ice and asked what I had been drinking. I looked at him with disgust,

“I don’t want that cup, I want my glass back.”

Jed: “Well, I think they took your glass. I’m making you another drink, what do you want?”

“No… No. See, that cup is plastic. I don’t want a plastic cup. I want my nice rocks glass back.”

He stares at me in disbelief.

Jed: “Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah, seriously.”

Shizz is watching this go down and he knows me better than I know myself sometimes. He really is one of my best friends. Possibly my best guy friend. He’s drinking out of a rocks glass and without hesitation he hands me his glass and takes the plastic one from Jed to drink out of himself. I smile my adorably seductive smile and flounce my hair a lil, “Thanks Shizzy.”

I look at Jed to make sure he is learning from this; always give a girl what she wants, never question, never look bewildered. He’s completely bemused.

Jed: “Has anyone ever told you you’re high maintenance?”

“Who me? Nooooo. I’d say I’m medium maintenance.”

Jed: “No, You’re definitely high maintenance.”

“Shizz doesn’t think I am.”

Jed: “No, Shizz just puts up with it b/c he thinks it’s cute and he’s in love with you.”

“Oh… I didn’t know that… well seeeeee, it’s ok to be high maintenance b/c there are guys out there willing to put up with it!”

Jed gives up. I’ve left him speechless.

I didn’t think about it again until Sunday afternoon I was going to a wedding with my dad and we were talking about the frugality of the brides family. We weren’t really gossiping… just talking about the wedding details. Like how the mother of the bride organized the reception and had her close friends help out instead of hiring help and how she did the flowers herself and they don’t drink so there was no alcohol at the reception. You heard me right. NO alcohol whatsoever at the wedding reception…NONE.

So the day before the dishwasher at the church (where the wedding was) had broken b/c the pipes were frozen and my dad is talking about what an inconvenience that is b/c now the helpers (like my mom) are going to have to wash and dry the cups and plates by hand during the reception.

me: “Wait, I don’t understand… why do they have to do that?”

dad: “Ya know, so there are clean plates and cups for people.”

me: “You mean… there aren’t enough cups and plates for everyone to have their own???”

dad: “Right.”

me: “Soooo, I might get down to the reception and have to eat off a plate someone’s already eaten off of or have to wait for a cup to be cleaned before I can have punch?”

dad: “Yes.”

me: “Are you serious?? That’s ridiculous! It’s not even sanitary! I’ve never heard of anything like that at a wedding!”

dad: (laughs) “Ya know, you’re kinda high maintenance… I apologize for that, it’s my fault.”

me: “Oh dad don’t be sorry it’s fine there are tons of guys out there looking for a high maintenance woman (I tell him the story from Friday night) and besides, I’m really only medium maintenance most of the time.”

How cute is my dad people. Taking the blame for my high maintenanceness.

It honestly is his fault though. Nothing is ever good enough for my dad. He’s sophisticated, he’s a wine connoisseur (or at least he strives to be), we’re members of the most prestigious country club in the area b/c of him (current and past Presidents play golf there), he only flies first class, he only stays at the best hotels, he has his suits all custom made, we eat at the best restaurants in the area and the people that work there all know his name (and his preferred table), his idea of a little Christmas present is a diamond necklace and matching tennis bracelet. He slips me hundred dollar bills after a couple glasses of wine if I’m whining about my pathetic financial status; or if he’s just feeling generous. Growing up, his family ‘dressed up’ for dinner every night. Seriously, suit and tie or no supper for you.

My mom grew up totally different. They’re night and day really. Her dad’s family were farmers and he worked his ass off his whole life. He was successful though. He was very very successful. He always remained frugal though and my mom inherited his frugality. I’ve always wanted to be my dad though. My whole life all I’ve wanted was to make him proud of me. That’s my goal: To be successful in my father’s eyes.

It’s impossible of course because really… what is success? I’ve been trying to figure it out for a while now and the possibilities are endless. Is it having a loving family? Is it a high powered job making more money than you know what to do with? Is it just being happy with what you have?

This is the root of my quarter-life crisis. I will never measure up to the potential my dad sees in me; mainly because I can’t identify it.

My ex ex boyfriend (before previous ex) was kind of a dead beat. He came from a blue collar family and attended community college. My dad always told me I could do so much better. I thought famous boy would impress him and make him proud but instead the next day he told me that guys like that are jerks and I could do so much better.

What the fuck kind of guy am I supposed to bring home??!? A recipient of the purple heart who is also a neurosurgeon looking to settle down and focus on a family while supporting his wife’s career aspirations??!? HE DOESN’T EXIST!!

Last night my dad asked how many of my friends are getting married anytime soon. I told him none of them, only a couple have steady boyfriends but they aren’t ready for marriage. He then stated, “Something’s wrong with you guys… you should all be settling down by now.”

This opened up a huge argument in which my mom took my side and it ended with me saying, “Dad… can you see me married? Like right now, can you picture me having a husband sitting across from you at the dinner table?”

He looked at me. “No I can’t.” And as I was about to win the argument and proclaim “See! There’s your answer!” I realized that I’m 24 years old. I’m done with college, I have a job, and I have no desire to even have a boyfriend let alone a husband. The thought of a husband freaks me out to be honest. Instead I said, “Omg you’re right. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t normal!”

But what’s normal anyways? On the bright side, my mom pointed out that I’m aging fabulously. Which is true. And maybe there’s nothing wrong with me and my girls. Maybe it’s the guys. We’re not going to just roll over and die for any old male that wants to get married. We’re fucking special. And we demand special men.