Tag Archives: baseball

Enough is enough

I finally did it.  At approximately 1:45am on Saturday night I blocked Snoop-Linus from facebook.  I know, I know… it’s facebook who gives a fuck, right?  Well this is big and it’s also the only thing that will get through to him that he needs to just leave me alone forever.  What finally pushed me to do the unthinkable?  We’ll have to step back a few months to fully grasp the situation.

All summer I have been getting random phone calls and texts from Snoop-Linus, most of them say he misses me and he loves me yada yada, there’s been a few curve balls in there where he fights with himself over the voicemail and a few I haven’t been able to understand.  98% of the calls are when he’s drunk, half of the texts are from the following days apologizing for the calls, some of the other texts are him asking for his 2 t-shirts that I still have of his back.  Some of them are him asking how I’m doing and all that jazz.

Occasionally when I’m in a deep enough sleep and I don’t look at who is calling I answer the 4am drunk dials.   Which happened when Lucky got stuck in Texas for her flight.  I heard the phone ringing, thought it was her, so I picked up.  Little did I know it was Snoop-Linus calling to tell me he loves me or something.

Anyway, to catch everyone up to speed, last week I finally asked him to stop contacting me.  And gave the whole, “You cheated on me, this will NEVER happen, we will NEVER be together again, because of YOU.  I said I would mail you your shirts, there is nothing else that needs to be said. The end.”

After I sent that text I surprisingly didn’t get a response, and haven’t heard from him since.  Problem solved right? I still haven’t mailed his shirts, and now he’s never getting them back.  They are my payoff for ending it over a year ago and still have to deal with him doing everything he can to get a reaction out of me.

So Saturday rolls around, I had plans to meet up with my friend Jess and go to the beach (stories to come Wednesday) we’re on our way there when she’s telling me that she texted Snoop-Linus because he had told her that him and her ex-boyfriend were going to the beach that day as well.  So she texted him to find out where they would be so we were sure not to be there.  He said he hadn’t talked to her ex since Thursday but said he was still going to the beach.  She asked who with and he replied with some shady answer that didn’t really answer the question and she didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

We never saw him, so…good.  Saturday night approaches and Jess says we should go to her friends apartment party.  So we do.  Everyone there was young, extremely drunk, and lame.  Maybe I was the lame one, but I wasn’t drunk, so whatever.  More stories on that Wednesday too, but just know, I was sober and annoyed.  So we go out to the bars.

When we get to the bar I order water because I’m so fucking annoyed/pissed that I’m out with these night ruiners (or so I think).  So I’m sitting there, slurping down my water, looking on facebook when I see it.  A picture of Snoop-Linus and whore #2 posted less than an hour earlier, standing in front of the baseball stadium with the caption, “Happy Birthday!!!”  I was sitting in the bar across the street from the baseball stadium when I saw this picture.  Like literally, looked up from where I was sitting and saw the exact background of the picture that was just taken moments earlier.

I had to sit there and think for a while.  I knew this was coming eventually, I called it.  I told everyone this would happen, not with some girl, but with THIS girl.  Because he’s too big of an asshole and too bad of a person to not hurt me as much as he can.  He has to feel like he’s won.  He has to know he beat me down as much as any one person can beat another person down emotionally.  He has to feel like he’s ruined love for me forever.  And he has to know he made me cry again after I told him I would never cry over him again, so he posted the picture.  Since the invention of facebook and “mobile uploads” Snoop-Linus has uploaded 10 pictures.  1 of them is of his old dog, and 9 of them are from sporting events or skylines.  Not one of them is of a person or people, not once throughout the course of our 2 year relationship did he take a picture of us, let alone take a picture of us and upload it to facebook that very minute.  He knows that this girl is the one person I hate on Earth more than him, he knows that if he puts a picture on facebook of them I’ll see it and I’ll know he brought her to the city, MY CITY, where I live, NOT him, NOT her, ME, for her birthday and that they’re exclusive enough that he took her out to do something special for her birthday.  Not only did he bring her to the city in which I live and work, he brought her to my neighborhood.  The neighborhood that I live in, and the neighborhood and bars that he knows I go out to.  He did this to get to me.

I was pretty overwhelmed with emotions at first.   I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, scream, drink, throw my phone through the window, hook up with the  first guy I saw, do nothing, or go hunt him down and saw off his penis with a butter knife.

I decided all of the above weren’t good options, except the last one, but lets be real.  I asked Jess to come to the bathroom with me, told her what I saw and said I didn’t feel like staying out and I was going home.  #1 Because I did need to cry, and now that I’m on the down slope to 30 I can’t be seen crying in a bar #2 I didn’t want to see them out, chances are if I would’ve stayed out, I would have.  

Jess said she would come back with me so we hailed a cab and the whole time she’s sitting there asking if I know that I’m better than him? Of course I know I’m better than him.  I’m not a cheater, liar, and I don’t use drugs.  I’d say I’m worlds better, but the fact of the matter is… he posted the picture to hurt me.  And it did.  So I blocked his lying, cheating, scumbag ass and didn’t say a fucking word. Post another picture, asshole.  I won’t see it.

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Hey Little Boy, Want a Beer?

As if last week with my black eye, important meeting, and getting reprimanded by a clerk at target on my purchase wasn’t bad enough, it was opening weekend in major league baseball.  We all know that is a holiday to be celebrated.  A group of my friends (roomies included) and I all got tickets for our local team’s Saturday game.  We went to the bar as soon as it opened (10 am) and as expected the day was a drunken mess.

Not only did I see The Bed Wetter with his girlfriend and sister in tow an hour into the day, but I managed to get 10-15 beers down the hatch before things went sour, and thankfully I wasn’t alone.  Between the 9 of us it’s safe to say 150 beers lost their life that day.  I wish we could use the excuse that we’re still in college so that it would be acceptable but we’re not, and it’s not.  We’re adults and people are starting to get married and have kids and by god we need to grow up.

I ran kicking and screaming away from The Bed Wetter after he invited me to get a drink and hang out with them, made my way to the game, grabbed my 2 beer limited per transaction, told everyone in our group the story about The Bed Wetter and how he is a lying cheating assmunch, and hunkered down for the game.

Unfortunately there was a family that posted up directly in front of us.  I thought it would be ok since the girls sat behind the family and the guys sat behind us, it wasn’t.  They had a little girl who passed out in the middle of the game and busted her face on the bleachers, instead of being good parents and leaving to get her face checked out they handed her a napkin and continued to watch the game.  Lucky for them one of the girls that was with us let the little girl lean on her legs to get her nose to stop bleeding.  Unlucky for them, the little boy was sitting in front of me and it’s a good thing he was only 5 or 6 and doesn’t know how awesome beer is because each time I got up I and bought 2 beers he was offered one of them.  I know! I’m so horrible, but I thought it was really funny and I wouldn’t have really given a 6 year old a beer. I’m not a bad person.  The parents finally caught on to him turning around and going, “ICK!! ” And sticking his tongue out and asked that I kindly stop offering their child alcohol, but they laughed it off  and didn’t find security to have me arrested and told him they were proud of him for not giving into peer pressure.  Which made me laugh that they called me a peer to a 6 year old.  Hrmm… :/  Ah, well.

So, the game ended which was when I decided that would be a good time to go to the bathroom.  Anth warned me that they weren’t going to wait for me because they’d get escorted out before I would be able to get back (it wasn’t until after the fact, yesterday actually, that he told me he warned me they wouldn’t be there.  I walked back totally expecting them to still be at our seats.) to get back so to just call them and come meet them.  So I did, which is when the conversation that ruined the day came, it went something like…

Anth: Come to the bar down the street

Me: I don’t know where that is! Come get me!! I can’t believe you left me, wahhhh!!

Anth: It’s right down the street you dumb bitch

Me: DON’T CALL ME A DUMB BITCH!!!

There was a little more, but the dumb bitch part is all that’s still really clear to me.   I hung up on him and texted him that I was going home, then he was all “you would…” And I snapped that I didn’t move in with them to get disrespected, I’m not some dumb skank that they can hump and dump (yeah I don’t know, no humping or dumping has occurred) so don’t treat me like I am.

Eventually he apologized and offered to do my laundry but not after I made the 3 1/2 mile walk back to the apartment, which is also where I found that the hood of my jacket was filled with peanuts and peanut shells.  Thanks friends.  Too drunk to hail a cab or get aboard public transit I unsnapped my hood and continued my journey home while leaving peanut shell “breadcrumbs” along my path.

Something like an hour and a half later I made it home, passed out for the next 2 days and all is right with the world.  So there you have it, my big weekend.  These are the kinds of summer stories you have to look forward to.  I just hope none of them ever end with “and then the cops showed up.”

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