Category Archives: Drop dead

Kickball can shove it.

I’m fairly certain I shared with you guys last season the joy (read: nervousness and stress) I felt when I joined the local kickball league.

I joined for 2 reasons: 1. Two of my friends started the team and they needed as many people, especially girls, to join. And 2. I thought it would be something fun and social that I could do during the week.

Last season, I had a pretty good time, but I noticed that many of the other teams in the league were really serious—as in, they recruit really good players and get really fucking pissed when someone gets an out.

Our team wasn’t like that. In fact, we were the laughing stock of the league because we brought a huge stereo (we call it The KaBoomBox) and coolers of beer to every game, and played drunk as shit.

Somehow, our debauchery paid off and we were winning games left and right. We even got an out when someone from our dugout belched so loud, it caught the other team off guard. It was a great time, and we went pretty far into the playoffs.

But this season has been way different.

The league has really cracked down on drinking. Some of the teams still do it, but you have to be really secretive about it, and it’s getting to be a hassle. A few games ago, we were in the dugout waiting for an ump so our game could start. One of the players from the other team, we’ll call her Brit, came over and started yelling at us saying we couldn’t have beers, even if they were in cups.

She walked away and I was all, “What the fuck was that about?”

Apparently she is a “commissioner,” basically a glorified tattle tale. I’ve seen this girl around many-a-time because she plays on three different teams, wears a bandana, gloves, and shin guards, and she pitches overhand.

Yeah, um, it’s KICKBALL.

The following game, I decided to screw it, I wasn’t going to drink. I’m trying to watch my figure and since it’s such as hassle anyway, I was just going to bring a Powerade and forget it. Well low and behold, here comes Brit, still pissy about the beer and The KaBoomBox being too loud.

That night, we were up against a pretty serious team who kept shit-talking all night. We lost, and my team was really upset. I didn’t care. I was in this to have fun. So what, we lost.

Well my teammates started talking about a strategy for next game, we should put THIS person here and THIS person there… then they started talking about hosting a practice and a pickup game with other teams.

Excuse me?

I don’t want to practice. I don’t want to play a pickup game. I payed $45 to play on this team, I really just want to go on the field, kick the ball as hard as I can and try to make it on base, okay?

The next day, one of the guys on our team posted a diagram on our Facebook group.












You’ll notice “Lucky” isn’t on the diagram. Because apparently, my team doesn’t need me.

And yeah, I’m not an awesome player, but this isn’t a professional league. Sorry I’m not a fucking all star.

So I’d had enough. I was going to stand my team up Tuesday night and join D for dinner and a movie. I felt rebellious. I will show them, I thought.

And then? The game was cancelled due to rain.

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Tax day.

Is anyone else as depressed as I am that it’s TAX DAY?

I did my taxes Thursday, saw that I owe about $2,000 and then cried at my desk because I do not have $2,000 and in order to pay it, I’m going to have to eat grass for about 3 months.

Either way, I put the check in the mail this morning.

Bye bye money.

What can make me feel better today? Chocolate (which I packed in my lunch) and pics of hot dudes.

hot-guys-hot-guys-5423402-288-290Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Nam cursus. Morbi ut mi. Nullam enim leo, egestas id, condimentum at, laoreet mattis, massa. Sed eleifend nonummy diam. Praesent mauris ante, elementum et, bibendum at, posuere sit amet, nibh. Duis tincidunt lectus quis dui viverra vestibulum. Suspendisse vulputate aliquam dui. Nulla elementum dui ut augue. Aliquam vehicula mi at mauris. Maecenas placerat, nisl at consequat rhoncus, sem nunc gravida justo, quis eleifend arcu velit quis lacus. Morbi magna magna, tincidunt a, mattis non, imperdiet vitae, tellus. Sed odio est, auctor ac, sollicitudin in, consequat vitae, orci. Fusce id felis. Vivamus sollicitudin metus eget eros.

Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. In posuere felis nec tortor. Pellentesque faucibus. Ut accumsan ultricies elit. Maecenas at justo id velit placerat molestie. Donec dictum lectus non odio. Cras a ante vitae enim iaculis aliquam. Mauris nunc quam, venenatis nec, euismod sit amet, egestas placerat, est. Pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas. Cras id elit. Integer quis urna. Ut ante enim, dapibus malesuada, fringilla eu, condimentum quis, tellus. Aenean porttitor eros vel dolor. Donec convallis pede venenatis nibh. Duis quam. Nam eget lacus. Aliquam erat volutpat. Quisque dignissim congue leo.

Mauris vel lacus vitae felis vestibulum volutpat. Etiam est nunc, venenatis in, tristique eu, hot-guysimperdiet ac, nisl. Cum sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. In iaculis facilisis massa. Etiam eu urna. Sed porta. Suspendisse quam leo, molestie sed, luctus quis, feugiat in, pede. Fusce tellus. Sed metus augue, convallis et, vehicula ut, pulvinar eu, ante. Integer orci tellus, tristique vitae, consequat nec, porta vel, lectus. Nulla sit amet diam. Duis non nunc. Nulla rhoncus dictum metus. Curabitur tristique mi condimentum orci. Phasellus pellentesque aliquam enim. Proin dui lectus, cursus eu, mattis laoreet, viverra sit amet, quam. Curabitur vel dolor ultrices ipsum dictum tristique. Praesent vitae lacus. Ut velit enim, vestibulum non, fermentum nec, hendrerit quis, leo. Pellentesque rutrum malesuada neque.

Nunc tempus felis vitae urna. Vivamus porttitor, neque at volutpat rutrum, purus nisi eleifend libero, a tempus libero lectus feugiat felis. Morbi diam mauris, viverra in, gravida eu, mattis in, ante. Morbi eget arcu. Morbi porta, libero id ullamcorper nonummy, nibh ligula pulvinar metus, eget consectetuer augue nisi quis lacus. Ut ac mi quis lacus mollis aliquam. Curabitur iaculis tempus eros. Curabitur vel mi sit amet magna malesuada ultrices. Ut nisi erat, fermentum vel, congue id, euismod in, elit. Fusce ultricies, orci ac feugiat suscipit, leo massa sodales velit, et scelerisque mi tortor at ipsum. Proin orci odio, commodo ac, gravida non, tristique vel, tellus. Pellentesque nibh libero, ultricies eu, sagittis non, mollis sed, justo. Praesent metus ipsum, pulvinar pulvinar, porta id, fringilla at, est.

hot_guyPhasellus felis dolor, scelerisque a, tempus eget, lobortis id, libero. Donec scelerisque leo ac risus. Praesent sit amet est. In dictum, dolor eu dictum porttitor, enim felis viverra mi, eget luctus massa purus quis odio. Etiam nulla massa, pharetra facilisis, volutpat in, imperdiet sit amet, sem. Aliquam nec erat at purus cursus interdum. Vestibulum ligula augue, bibendum accumsan, vestibulum ut, commodo a, mi. Morbi ornare gravida elit. Integer congue, augue et malesuada iaculis, ipsum dui aliquet felis, at cursus magna nisl nec elit. Donec iaculis diam a nisi accumsan viverra. Duis sed tellus et tortor vestibulum gravida. Praesent elementum elit at tellus. Curabitur metus ipsum, luctus eu, malesuada ut, tincidunt sed, diam. Donec quis mi sed magna hendrerit accumsan. Suspendisse risus nibh, ultricies eu, volutpat non, condimentum hendrerit, augue. Etiam eleifend, metus vitae adipiscing semper, mauris ipsum iaculis elit, congue gravida elit mi egestas orci. Curabitur pede.

Maecenas aliquet velit vel turpis. Mauris neque metus, malesuada nec, ultricies sit amet, porttitor mattis, enim. In massa libero, interdum nec, interdum vel, blandit sed, nulla. In ullamcorper, est eget tempor cursus, neque mi consectetuer mi, a ultricies massa est sed nisl. Class aptent taciti sociosqu ad litora torquent per conubia nostra, per inceptos hymenaeos. Proin nulla arcu, nonummy luctus, dictum eget, fermentum et, lorem. Nunc porta convallis pede.

And that’s that. Time to get back to my work meeting!

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BEX got married.

I waited a few days to share this news with you all; only telling my very close friends and family, because I have been dealing with a mix of emotions surrounding BEX’s wedding, which happened on Saturday.

I found out about the wedding last Wednesday. For some reason, I wandered over to BEX’s Facebook page, and saw a post on his page about “7 more days ’till the wedding!”


Considering I had just seen him a month prior and he mentioned nothing about a bride-to-be, and considering about 14 months ago he was asking me to sleep with him, I thought no way he was about to get married.

So I Googled his name along with “wedding,” and sure enough, up came a few wedding registries and a site on The Knot, complete with a picture of him and his fiancee. The site was created on March 5, 2012, less than 2 months after I told BEX to get out of my life.

My heart thumped and I swear my jaw traveled through two floors to hit the ground beneath me with a THUD.

It’s not the first time I’ve found out my ex was getting married. In fact, all of my exes are married. To say the least, it’s never fun news to get. However, in this case, it was a little different.

For starters, it was pretty obvious to me that he was cheating on me with this girl and vis versa. I’m not a genius, but I think it’s safe to say that after we had a conversation on January 9, 2012, he didn’t meet someone the next day and propose before March 5.

The real sting for me was recalling numerous conversations we’d had about getting married—he insisted that getting married was never a plan of his, and this always bothered me because I did (and do) want to be married. Now, obviously, that was just one of his many lies to me, because he did want to get married. And now he actually is married.

And yes, I know. He’s an ass, he’s the worst, he’s a douche, I deserve better. But I’m not sure, even as an award-winning editor, that any words I write can describe what it feels like to know that a person who betrayed you, did so to such a degree that there was a ring in his pocket the last time you slept together. It is sickening.

Upon receiving the news, I turned to the two women in my life who have supported me throughout my entire relationship and breakup with BEX: Gizzy and my mom. I was, and am, thankful for them lifting me out of the doldrums.

That day, on Gchat, BEX came online and I decided to send him a message asking him about the wedding.

ME: Getting married Saturday?

BEX: I am.

ME: I am shocked.

BEX: I guess I am too… but I’m excited.

ME: The shocking part is the math. It doesn’t add up. You slept with her and I at the same time?

BEX: No. It was a very quick process. We hadn’t been together in over 3 years.

And that was the end of that conversation. Sure, part of me wanted to tell him all of the times I knew there was overlap in the relationship he was having with her and the one he was having with me. But the majority of me knew that at this point, nothing I could say would make him understand, and really, I’m at a good place in my life.

What BEX didn’t realize is that a picture of him and his bride, proves him completely wrong. In July 2011, I flew across the country to see Gizzy for my birthday. Ironically, BEX flew there too. He told me he was going with his sister and her husband. But there is a picture on Facebook of him and his then girlfriend at the famous baseball stadium in that city. Behind them, is the date on the jumbo screen: July 2, 2011.

On that same date, BEX called me and sang me Happy Birthday and tried to meet up with me several times in the city. Little did I know that his girlfriend was sitting right beside him the entire time. We slept together the following week.

In a way, finding this out answers alot of my questions. It explains why BEX was never around, why he treated me like shit, and why he hid me from his friends and family. But it doesn’t do much for my trust issues.

I knew BEX was fooling around on me. But I didn’t know he was living a completely double life without my knowledge.

Saturday, I spent the day drinking, and for the first time, I cried about BEX’s wedding. I never wanted to waste more time on him, but I know I am still dealing with the hurt he left for me.

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I figured out today that I am the Regina George of my friends (Lucky excluded because she’s special and also a doer), the Queen Bee, El Presidente, the leader. Why? Because I’m the only doer, and the rest of them are dummies.

Example 1: Betty and I are trying to plan this Florida trip that is happening in exactly 3 weeks and of course it’s drama.  Now when I say Betty and I, I mean Betty, because remember I am a doer so my trip is already planned, booked, and paid for.  She’s just dragging me into her unnecessary drama and I’m tired of it.  We found out about our friend’s wedding 8 months ago, and  knew that it was in Florida 8 months ago.  Which automatically means you have to buy a flight and book a hotel.  I bought a flight, booked a hotel, and rented a car already, literally all Betty has to do is book her own flight and that. is. it.  But I’ve gotten numerous texts and calls from her about how the flights are too expensive and can I look them up for her to see if I can find her a cheaper one? Um no. No I cannot.  Sorry I have a life and don’t care if you go to the wedding or not. On the sidelines Betty is also trying to back out of going to the wedding in general, which would mean less drama for me so I’m hoping that’s what she does.  Then I can enjoy a relaxing weekend in Florida by myself, or if I can get the all clear from the Bride – invite Lucky along for a weekend of drinking and debauchery at the beach. 

Example 2: A few months ago Gigi, Jules, and I came up with the bright idea to go to a baseball game in Gigi’s city.  I found a weekend when the home team for her city was playing the team from The Big City, so we decided we should get tickets to that.  Gigi volunteered to get the tickets a few weeks ago and has yet to do so because first she didn’t know what website to get them off of, so I directed her to stubhub.  Then she had some big blow out with her landlord that left her crying for days.  Etc, etc, etc.  Inside it is hurting me to not just go online and get them myself because it would literally take 15 seconds, but like the above example I am learning the hard way (the hard way being me missing out on a fun drunken baseball game when she doesn’t do it) that I need to let loose on the reins and try to turn my friends into doers too before I kill them all for being lazy sloths. 

So I’m not going to get the tickets, I’m not going to help Betty find a flight, or talk to her about the trip again for that mater.  I’m going to sit back and let them figure it out on their own.  I have examples for days just like this of events where I have had to do all the work because everyone else sucks. With that being said, I don’t know how they all get themselves dressed in the morning. 

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Go away.

Friday night, I participated in the usual activities of drinking until I am stupid. After drinking a few margaritas, Marcy and I, along with the usual guys headed to the bar.

I was thinking, “OH, I’ll just have a few beers, stumble home, hit the sack, and be up early enough to go to the gym tomorrow morning…”

Yeah… no.

I really did only have a few beers, but I also had a few shots… I remember swallowing a red snapper, a soco/lime (one of my favorites), and a jager bomb. Oy.

Naturally, mid drink-fest-dance-off, Joel decides, once again, to talk about “us.”

Let me refresh your memory. Me and Joel is not a thing. Ever since I’ve seen how much of a drama-starter he is, that was just the icing on the cake for me—hell no. Yet, every time we drink together “us” comes up in conversation.

Yeah dude, I get it. You don’t want to be with me. You wish you did. And hey, I don’t want to be with you either, so why are we talking about this again?

So around 1:30, we all head to Marcy’s, the typical plan, because even though we’ve all been drinking since 6 pm, we just can’t seem to stop. This is where things with Joel always get stupid. Because he tells me and tells me just how much he doesn’t want to be with me, and then we get in the same bed together and shit happens.

To avoid this, as soon as I cracked open my beer I told Marcy I was sleeping in her bed, even if she didn’t like it. And that is what I did.

Joel even found it necessary to come into Marcy’s room and kiss me (on the forehead) goodnight.


Saturday was non-eventful, although I didn’t wake up in time to go to the gym, I hit the showers and started drinking again, because I have a serious problem. I took a 3 -hour nap and rolled out of bed in time to see the 9 pm showing of Safe Haven (SO GOOD). It was just me and a box of Butterfinger Minis in a sea of couples. But it’s whatevs.

Sunday, I was really just trying to rest and hydrate and relax because this week (has been and) will be, a little bitch. However, I still wanted to go to the open mic night, if anything to get out of the house. So I did. And I read a poem. And the music was great. And I danced. And sang.

And then, I heard a familiar voice right behind my neck.

The creepy, crazy, stalker, texter, rapper.

I hadn’t seen him in weeks. I quickly gathered my belongings, held them close to me, and waited for the last performer to finish. I dropped my tip money into the jar and looked toward the only way out—the front door. And there he was. Standing. Waiting.

He turned his back and I made my move, walking briskly. And as soon as I got to the door, he turned and waved. I said hello. Then he asked, “How was your V-Day?”


What did he want me to say? That it was horrible and I sat around and cried and thought about killing myself and then I realized that I’d made a horrible, horrible mistake and he was the one I was missing and would he like to go out for coffee and work things out because I can’t, I just can’t, go on without him?

Instead, I told him it was wonderful, and that I somehow managed to get a boyfriend, get engaged, married, and pregnant on the same day.

So yeah.

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Why I won’t be watching The Bachelor.

Yeah, you read correctly.

But it’s not because this season of The Bachelor is kinda boring or because Sean isn’t hot or because Tierra has a giant dent in her forehead.

It’s something worse than that.

Last year, you might recall I was pretty heavily involved in a volunteer program that was on a mission to end institutional racism—a mission I feel strongly about. I went through the volunteer program as a participant, then I took their “advanced session,” and then I even went through training to become a facilitator and started facilitating the sessions on my own.

However, the more and more I became a part of the organization, I saw many flaws in the way they work. The CEO, we’ll call her Mary, takes control of everything. In a sense, that’s great, it’s good to have leaders. However, if you’re trying to educate people on eliminating racism, you need to spread the word, not keep it a secret.

But on top of that, the way Mary runs things is completely wrong. She sends emails with the body of the email in an attached Word document, she never starts or ends things on time, so if you’re attending a training breakfast from 9-12, be prepared to be there until at least 1 pm.

At the end of last year, I was in search of a new volunteer venture: one that would value my time and reward me for my hard work. That’s when I found CASA.

After passing the entrance interview, the background check, securing 3 references, and completing 32 hours of training, and passing the test (I got 100%) and the exit interview, I am now waiting on my CASA child to begin the year of service that I’ve committed to.

It took me months of back-and-forth about deciding to become a CASA volunteer. It’s very emotionally taxing, but I was also worried about the time commitment—I have a tendency to book myself solid, where would I find the time to advocate for a child?

The answer? I needed to eliminate (or at least cut significantly) my volunteer efforts with Mary.

My plan was to get rolling with CASA, figure out my average hours spent, and then explain my situation to Mary, saying perhaps I could still do trainer breakfasts or events, but no 6-week-long facilitations.

In the midst of all of this, I was noticing a massive amount of email from Mary. At least once, if not twice a day. Some of them were invites to happy hours, others scheduling a breakfast, and several were wanting us to meet and practice. I didn’t want a part of any of it.

Don’t worry, it gets worse.

Last Tuesday, I was sitting at work, actually getting a few things done, when Mary called me on my cell phone. Wishing to avoid her aggressive nature, I ignored the call.

About 2 minutes later, I get an email from Mary saying I’ve been assigned to facilitate the next 6-week session, beginning Monday, February 4th at 5:30 pm.

That’s right, ASSIGNED.

I checked my voicemail to see if this was indeed the case, and it was.

I waited a few moments to breathe and calm down, and then emailed Mary, explaining to her that my volunteer efforts had shifted to CASA, and I was unsure of the amount of time I would be able to devote to her. I asked her if there was anyway anyone else could facilitate.

She said no.

What are my options here? Yes, Mary really screwed me. There’s about a million things she did wrong here, but I do have a conscious and I ultimately care about the group’s mission. So, I spent Tuesday evening being mad about it and then told myself I needed to suck it up and be an adult.

Sure, now my Monday nights are gone, as our my Tuesday nights, but it’s just for 6 weeks. So, enjoy The Bachelor without me (I will be watching tomorrow night’s though!).


Still stuck.

You probably thought since you hadn’t heard about the crazy guy, that he was out of the picture after I ignored his 32 text messages.

Oh, no. I don’t get off that easy.

Last Sunday, I went to the open mic determined not to let this one guy ruin my weekly night for myself. Upon arrival, I didn’t see him, and plopped down on a couch next to a few girls I’d met. I read my poem, and about halfway through the night, he shows up.

He found me, standing beside the couch asking me a million questions, which I answered in single word sentences. When I left, he asked me, “What are you about to get into?” I said, “My bed” and got to my car. When I got home, he sent me a text: “Hey, you never told me what you thought about my album?”

I ignored that, and went on with my week. He sent me another text Saturday about some radio interview he did. I didn’t reply.

Sunday, I went to the open mic, he was there, and when I went up to give my poem, he recorded it, and took several pictures. He tried to talk to me several points in the night, asking me what I’d been up to, what was I doing for New Year’s? I was short, and went back to my seat.

When it was his turn to get on the mic, he said the poem was about a recent disappointment.

You can probably guess what happened next.

He told everyone his side of the story—that he’s a nice guy, tired of getting screwed over, this girl says she isn’t ready, wants nothing serious, is he just a year too late to date?

Ugh. I was mortified.

I left at the end of the night, and came home to a few texts from him, of course:

Hey. I dunno what actions I partook against you to block me on FB, that sucks enough but every time I see you, you’re very COLD and standoffish. I guess you don’t want anything to do with me. That’s cool. *shrug smh. The last part of my poem was kinda about you. Thanks for the added inspiration Lucky. Godspeed.

REALLY?!?! First of all, I blocked him from Facebook weeks ago, even before the 32 message bullshit because he would like and comment and tag me in everything and it was pissing me off. Second of all, BRO, you sent me 32 fucking text messages in a single night!

Like no, I don’t purposely love being COLD and STANDOFFISH to people, but obviously I’m dealing with someone who can’t take a hint, and then when I’m honest, they can’t even handle that.

About 5 minutes after he sent the previous text, I get this:

It’s like stuff changed after Thanksgiving for no reason. Sad. (u_u)

I don’t know what that little parenthesis shit is, but I’m hunkering down for what could be another long string of texts…

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I am a criminal.

Yep, you’ve read correctly, half of your favorite blogging duo is a (not so smooth) criminal, complete with a warrant.

It all started in October, when I was driving across town to do some last minute work at the magazine. I made a right turn onto a street, and when I turned a cop in front of me put his lights on, then pulled to the side, I passed, and he got behind me.

I pulled over and he came up beside me, saying to pull into a parking lot about a block ahead.

I did as I was told, wondering what the hell I did.

He asked me why I thought I was being pulled over, a question that always boggles my mind. If I get the answer right do I get out of the ticket? No? Then why the fuck do I care?

I told him I wasn’t sure, and he said he didn’t consider my stop at the stop sign to be a complete one.

“It was a rolling stop,” he said.

I gave him my license (which was expired) and registration, knowing full-well that this guy just needed a few extra tickets before he would get that vacation the precinct promised.

He told me he would let the expired license slide, but gave me the ticket for the stop sign violation. I said thanks, and shoved the ticket into my glove compartment and went on my way to work.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Weeks later, I was reminded that I needed to pay that ticket before it was too late. I called the sheriff’s office to get the price, $148.25, wrote the check, and dropped it in the mail.

A week passed, as did my court date/ticket due date, and the check wasn’t cashed.


I called the sheriff’s office to see what the problem was. The lady said they don’t take checks, so chances were it was on it’s way back to me.

“But my deadline has passed,” I said.

“It’s okay, just send us a money order right back,” she said.

She didn’t seem concerned, so I tried not to worry. When I got home that night, the check was in my mail. I put the money order in the mail the following day.

Then Monday morning rolls around, and I have a message on my cell phone from CASA—the organization I’m about to train for to become a volunteer.

“Hey Lucky, I’m calling about your background check. Your national is fine, but you have a local warrant that’s active,” she said, meaning I cannot become a volunteer.

Pretty standard. I haven’t gotten a ticket in 4 years, and I get one just in time to blow up in my face and completely fuck over something good I’m trying to do.

I told the woman at CASA the entire story, she seemed to understand, and said she would do my background check again on Monday and see if it was cleared up. I pray to whoever that it is.

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Another kind of cRaZy.

Just to get you up to speed, I went on that horrible date, then ignored about a dozen or so texts and calls from this guy, blocked him from Facebook… and then I got another text from him last Saturday night asking me out, yet again.

I decided to just come clean and tell him no, when he asked why, I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship. Partially true. I was trying to be kind.

He persisted, saying I didn’t give him a chance, and I just ignored these messages. Then, yesterday morning I awoke to the horror:

32 New Messages

All. From. Him.

Read on, if you dare.

1. I guess I should be used to this feeling, get used to it cause it aint new.
2. I want to let you know I would treat you BETTER than anyone ever did. treat you like royalty, like the Queen you are.
3. Never cheated on anyone, never did wrong to any girl but why am I the one who always ends up getting hurt. I know this might sound silly, but man its NOT FAIR 😦:(
4. Am I crazy for those feelings? I dunno anymore, I dunno why I even try.
5. At least let me know something, a reply like if you liked my record or something tangible. I dunno, tired of being the good guy

6. I guess you havent hurt me, I hurt myself. I expected something else. it just HURTS I cant hang out with you and get to know you better

7. I really strive to do my best. to treat EVERYONE right. that poem zero did tonight hit me hard. had a friend commit suicide last year
8. I didnt take it well, I was angry at him. then really sad, cause I saw him 2 months prior at a friends wedding. he had no hope.
9. I wish I could have talked to him more and SAVED his life. he felt like a burden in this world, I believe that was a selfish act.
10. like all my other college roomies, Jarrett was BROTHER. he was loved by lots of people
11. but he hid his sorrows good. he hid them from his best friend, from me.
12. if I could have just talked to him, maybe I could have saved his life
13. I dunno, I just wanted to hang out with you and get to know you more as a person and I figured if something happens it happens
14. and I guess in the recesses of my mind, I was HOPING it would happen cause you’re really smart, intelligent, funny, and i admire your gifts
15. you have me beat in writing, your intellect is what attracts me the most
16. figured you could help me with my stuff

17. I always get feedback from people and I dunno, don and Auto said my stuff was OFF

18. man I really STRIVE. I dunno what’s off, I really want to get better! but a few of my fellow artists who iIrespect say im off from time to time. I don’t understand…at all. smh.
19. you are a really awesome lady, and I wanted to show you how a TRUE GENTLEMAN treats a lady
20. thats what hurts me the most, I know you’re not ready and that sucks for me but I wanted to prove everything I said to you…Queen. you must do what you say and mean what you do.
21. always keep and honor your word, its all about integrity and honesty…less ye be a hypocrite
22. I know its cheesy and you can laugh at me if you want but I dunno im old school
23. I still believe in holding a door open for a lady, and giving my seat up if there is nowhere else to sit. I guess im trying to keep chivalry.
24. Corny I know, sorry but my beloved mother RIP gave me the name that sounds like it was meant for so much more… DESTINED.
25. do you think thats weird? I mean id love to hear more about your 7 different blogs, your thought process going in, everything
26. so in conclusion, forgive my lengthy novel texts, but I guess my synopsis is at LEAST please give me the CHANCE to KNOW more about you
27. as a friend and vis versa, at least give me that much Lucky.
28. I mean im genuinely interested and not trying to get in your pants interested like the mundane rabid dogs who play as men these days. I really dig you. Please. Thanks.
29. can you at least give me your opinion? Do you believe everything I said? say something dont leave me hanging. I spoke all TRUTH. I promise.
30. I just gotta know, I need to know.
31. Lucky  can I ask you a serious question? I’m really hoping you answer it, why did you agree to hang out with me before? Please tell me.
32. 😦:(
…if you’re still reading, please leave a comment and let me know you made it out alive.
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I’m not mother material

Well I made it through the bubonic plague without murdering my loved ones and co-workers.  I really appreciate everyone’s concern last week.
Aside from leaving a snot trail everywhere I went, the weekend was still a big piece of dog shit – starting with Friday at work.
There are about 12 people that work in my “sub-department”, we’re all in a 500 square foot suite so whenever my boss has something important to tell us all, she yells “SHOUT OUT!” and we all come-a-runnin’. We had a shout out on Friday morning where my boss informs us all that this girl in our sub-department has put in her 2 weeks because she has taken a better job.  She has her masters in some kind of European studies thing and was able to snag a higher ranked job in that field, good for her, I’m all about not being underemployed. The thing of it is, when I was scouted out to come work for the branch of the company that I’m now in, they had originally wanted me for her position (which is a level up from my current position). At the last minute this girl showed an interest in it and they gave it to her, because although the higher ups admitted I was more qualified, she had been with the company longer, and that was more important to them than actually being able to do the job.  So for the past 3 months while they trained this chick on how to do the things that I learned in the big city, I did her work.  And now she quit.  So, you would think that I would get bumped up into this position because A. It was supposed to be mine in the first place and B. I’m already doing the work, right? Wrong. No one has said a damn word about it to me. Needless to say I’ve been fucking pissed about it all weekend. Like so pissed that I’ve been making empty threats to everyone I talked to over weekend that if they don’t give it to me I’m going to quit, I’m going to fucking quit goddamnit – Obama will take care of me, right? Tehehe.
Literally as I was finishing that last paragraph my boss came in my office and offered me the position. I’m keeping that last paragraph though, just so I can stick my big dumb foot in my mouth.
So anyway, I came home and rolled around in my bed coughing and sneezing all night Friday, and Saturday was the slumber partay. Betty, her daughter, my sister, and one of our other friends all came over for some good old fashioned girl time.  We made pizzas, prank called people, played board games, I got drunk on a giant bottle of wine, ate popcorn, and watched movies. It was a good time, until the next morning.  Betty decided to take a shower, so while she did that, I made everyone pancakes which is also known as the moment I realized I never want kids.
So I’m mixing and flipping and flopping the cakes all around being really proud of myself that not only could I keep myself alive it appeared as though I could keep other people alive too. Then the little trolls come up and started being massive brats. They’re telling on each other for the stupidest shit, and asking me to get them stuff literally every 20 seconds.  And by stuff, I mean they were asking me to get them wet wipes for the swiffer.  I know I shouldn’t be complaining because they were ultimately cleaning my floors, but it was too much. Like why are kids blind/retarded and can’t see that you’re obviously doing something else at the moment and CANNOT get them swiffer pads so they can play. Lets be logical, do you want to swiffer the damn floor or do you want chocolate chip pancakes? To me, the choice is clear. It was so bad that I almost started crying. Instead of crying, I talked to myself. I was telling whoever was listening that I get it, I get why being a parent sucks and is a full time job.  Because kids literally suck the life out of you. It was 10am and I was exhausted.  Later that day while I took a moment for myself, TO PEE, they were banging on the door saying they needed more to drink.  Um okay you little heathens, bring me your cup and I’ll get you a piping hot glass of piss.  Christ. Like really?!
So after everyone went home I cracked open a beer and hungout without pants for the rest of the night.  A small reward for making it through hell for a day.
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