Tag Archives: big city butts

Who wants a divorce!

Anotha day, anotha dolla.  Here we are, smack dab in the middle of engagement season, then in the spring comes wedding season.  The real question is, when is divorce season?

Tuesday night I got a delightful little facebook chat from one of my old college flames.  I say delightful because he totally screwed me over but college wouldn’t have been the same without him.   We’ll call him Snatch.

I met Snatch at the beginning of my sophomore year, we had math class together and I thought he was H-O-T hot!  Facebook had been around for 2 days, it was back when there was a section to list your classes and you could click on the class and see who was in it.  So awesome (you hear that Mark Zuckerberg?!) Naturally, I facebook crept until I found out who math class guy was, discovered he was in a fraternity, and blabbed about this guy until my roommate finally found a connection for us to get into one of the frat’s parties that coming weekend.  As soon as we got to the fraternity we told our insider what was up, he took me directly to where Snatch was working, he was on sober patrol working the door.  Snatch recognized me from math class and asked for my number so he could call me when he got off, and he did.  The rest is pretty much history, we dated off and on for the next 4 years, until I went on a spring break cruise to the Bahamas and randomly met Snatch’s girlfriend who went to a different school.  It was one of those, “You go to SHIT U? My boyfriend goes to SHIT U and is a Booger Chi!” “OHHH MINE TOO!” “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” “Snatch Ass.” “Hmm…Mine too.”  I didn’t hate Snatch for long though, we ended up becoming really good friends after I realized being a two timer was the least of his problems and I was better off without him, until he started dating his now fiance, who we also went to college with.  She knows mine and Snatch’s history and has basically forbid him to speak to me.  She nearly had a conniption last year when Snoop-Linus and I stayed at Snatch’s apartment, I mean did she really think we were going to just have a big Gizzy gang bang?

Anyway, Snatch facebook chatted me to see what was up.  One thing led to another and we started reminiscing about the good ol’ college days, then Snatch starts talking about my boobs and how excited he is for me to move to the city, totes inappropriate.

Is it just me or are guys these days proposing just for funsies? Clearly he doesn’t love his fiance that much or else he wouldn’t be reminiscing about an old college flame’s boobs? When I stayed at his apartment with Snoop-Linus they were only dating, but he told me he would probably end up proposing because he was too chicken shit to break up with her because on St. Patty’s day she through a half gallon of vodka at him.   I’d dump her for being a wasteful little cunty.  Hrmph.. all that un-drank vodka, ruined on the floor.

The next day, my mom’s best friend gave me the name and number of her “so cute stepson” who lives in the city that I need to “hook up with so he can show me around,” before I could even act on this, the guy had already added me to facebook.  What do I see when I look at his page? Married. W.T.F!!!!!

Is it just me or is it against some vows to be adding hot girls (clearly, that’s me, baha) to facebook so you can hang out later? My mom’s friend made it seem like he was single, which he clearly is not, and gets you a strike in my book.

What’s a single girl to do!? I need you guys to help snap me out of this funk.

I went to my friend’s tonight to see her new house and her baby before I move to the city.  I could hear myself droning on about how everyone is engaged, married, or in a relationship and since I am single I can’t hang out with anyone who is married or in a relationship because I am the 3rd wheel, and that makes me more miserable then washing out PIMP’s.  She just nodded, and told me she was pregnant and getting a mini-van.

I just don’t know what to do.  I love married people as much as the next guy, but I am surrounded by them.  And no offense to all you marrieds, but how is watching everyone else be married and spitting out kids every 2 seconds supposed to help me meet a guy?

For a while I thought this particular friend didn’t want to be friends anymore because I am single.  She’s all settled down with her hubs, baby, and dogs, in her white picket fence house and only hangs out with other marrieds who have kids and all that biz can’t be tainted when the single wench comes to visit in her hooker boots and v-neck sweater dress, it’ll get the neighbors talking. I won’t lie, I’m nervous to move to the big city but I will be thankful to be around my own kind, the singles.

I’m pretty sure all my taken friends feel sorry for me, I got 3 different invites to be a “tag along” on New Years Eve.  “Come to dinner with us!” “Come over and drink boxed wine!” “Come to this party! There will be cute guys!” Thanks, but no thanks, I’m not a 3rd wheel charity case and I’d rather gorge on chocolate and cry into my pillow, mmkay?

*Side note – A commercial just came on that DISH is getting rid of E! on January first.  What the fuck!!?? My life is over.  I don’t get bravo, I don’t get E!, seriously what the fuck?*

Anyway, my life sucks.  What’s new?

After I gave myself the perfect manicure on NYE I decided to drive to the big city the next day to look at some apartments/attend another big city butts game with Anth Saturday night.

Don’t worry! It was just him and I, no fancy faux fur phonies to impress this time.  #1 Anth wasn’t impressed that I brought the foam fingers along for the fun time and gave him a lecture about how he didn’t use his last time but that foam finger was willing to give him a 2nd chance because there’s nothing like cozying up by a warm fire with the one you love on a cold winter night.   Then I got a return lecture about how I will be single for a long long time if I continue to act like inanimate objects have feelings and personalities.   I mean, they do.  So I don’t know what his problem is.

We got all geared up to head out in the -20 weather for the game and made a pit-stop at a gas station.   I complained the entire 5 minute ride to the gas station about how I was so hungry I could feel my stomach eating itself.  For reals, it was starting to cave in, I saw it happen.  I just couldn’t wait for the delicious hot dogs and beer at the game, so I got some chili cheese fritos and peanut butter m&m’s to tide myself over.  Anth’s pumping gas while I’m mowing down on the fritos (this is so detailed so that you can paint the perfect picture of what is about to happen in your head) Anth gets in the car and is taking a drink from his gatorade when I decided I had to have the m&m’s right that second!! NOM NOM NOM.  I don’t hold anything back, I ripped into the bag of m&m’s and they went flying all over the car. It was literally raining peanut butter m&m’s.  Like really, not 1 m&m was left in the bag.  Anth just sat there in complete disarray of what had just happened and watched half of the bag of m&m’s fall in his air vent while I sat there wide eyed with my empty m&m bag.  Honestly, I was more upset that there were about 30 less m&m’s for me to eat.  Yeah, I picked every last one of them up and ate them.  Call me gross, I don’t care.  But those m&m’s were $3 and tough times call for tough measures.  Anth got pissed and started spouting off about how he thinks I might actually be retarded because how could I do such a thing!? Of course when summer comes he’s going to get a nice chocolate drizzle on his penny loafers but I’ll be long gone when that happens.

The game was good, the big city butts got over 100 points again, so I was happy that I got a free big mac to go with my post game bottle of wine.  All is right with the world, except that I’m still homeless and I start my new job in the big city in 16 days.  Eff.

But hey, Happy 2011 errybody!

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Gizzy the backup plan

Happy November 3rd everyone! What happened on November 3rd in history? Nothing.  Oh wait, The Wizard of Oz was first televised.  Wahoo!!

Anyway, Monday night Anthony invited me to come to the big city to be his date to the Big City Butts basketball game, to sit in his company box, with him and all his bosses and prospective engineering clients blah blah boring.  I jumped at the opportunity because #1 free booze #2 free food #3 free basketball.

Really though, this is what’s super lame.  Anthony always asks me to be his “backup.”  I have been invited to his company Christmas party the last 3 years in a row as a “backup.” Like, this is how it goes, “Hey Gizzy, do you have any plans on December 24th for the rest of your life? Would you mind being my “backup” date to my company Christmas party every single year in case [insert whore of the moment] can’t come?” Of course the last 3 years I said yes, even though Anthony lives 4 hours away.  And I still have yet to go to the company Christmas party.  I told him this summer not to even bother asking me to be the backup this year because I’m not into it.  I’m finding my own company Christmas party to go to.  But now that I have mingled with the best of Big City’s green engineer’s I might consider being his backup plan again.

Last year I asked Anth why I’m the backup, because lets face the facts, I am a wayyyy better time than any girl he is going to ask to go, which conveniently the past 3 Christmas parties has been this girl we went to college with named Jenn.  JENN! What a boring name.  Boring name, for a boring girl.  He agreed that I’m the best time ever but put it ever so gently, “Jenn is going to put out, you won’t. Gotta get my bang in.”  Touche my friend, touche.

So anyway, lately Anth has been dating this girl Smashley, he asked Smashley to go to the game first and she backed out the night before.  Who does he call? The back up plan.  This guy!  Of course I was doing nothing so I agreed to drive up and go with him, basically the most exciting thing I’ve done in the past 3 months.

When Anthony and I were chit chatting about how much fun we were going to have the morning of the game he laid down a few ground rules for me:

1. No taking shots

2. Always use utensils (So unnecessary, I’m a drunk, not a barbarian. Although, this picture of me in college throwing a chair down the hallway at Anthony’s frat house does raise a good point:

barbarian

3. Wear something “showy”

4. Don’t start trouble for “that blog”

5. Don’t embarrass him

He makes it sound like I am 2 years old and running wild, coloring on the walls, and whipping my little wiener out to pee in people’s glasses.  I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, but I take pride in my professionalism.  If I had to say something about my level of professionalism it would be that I am too professional.  I mean I know I talk big talk and drink big drinks but lets be serious here, I’m not going to eff up his job.  And it hurts my feelings that so few of my friends take me seriously.  I am a real person!

We arrive at the game, I’ve got on my “showy” professional dress with a martini in one hand and my quellazaire in the other laughing like this every time someone makes a sophisticated joke, “BRU-HA HA HA HA!” and petting my mink shoulder fur. Shortly before the game started I ventured out to get little souvenir for myself since it was my first Big City Butts game. In honor of Lucky, and her fallen ones, I come back with two foam fingers.  One for me and one for Anth.  And Anth was not too happy about this.

Apparently, when you’re in a club box with people in suits, drinking Crown Royal XR, and talking about “the market,” it’s not cool to be waving a foam finger in the air, or actually watching the game.

So needless to say Anthony shunned my foam finger and made me hide them in the corner before anyone saw.  I really wish I would’ve seen this coming so I could have taken a picture of his expression when I walked through the door with a foam finger on each hand raising the roof.

Other then that the game was a good time, the Big City Butts won, a hundred and something to ninety something I think.  All I know is that when we walked in I got handed a little coupon book and within the coupon book was a coupon, if the Butts score over 100 points I get a free big mac.  I totes made Anth stop and get me my big mac on the way home since all they had to eat in the club box was pulled pork, steak, and fancy food that does not make a sporting event a sporting event.  At one point I told him I was going to get a hot dog and he practically groveled at my feet asking me not to.  I also threw cheese cubes at opposing team fans off the balcony, I mean it was not a big deal.  Nobody saw, since I was out on the balcony alone watching the game while Anthony was inside discussing how to make toilets green.

Also, let me say that the other women in this box were like ew vom.   I’m talking they had on Jackie O suits and kept talking about their limos, butlers, and how their kids were in preparatory schools in Connecticut, and how they would JUST DIE if they were poor and had to go to public school.

After the game I told Anth about these convos I heard going on and he bounced back telling me that one of their kids won some kind of national nobel peace prize for spelling or some shit.  I automatically asked if the kid was adopted and asian because white kids aren’t that smart.  Who knew!

I spent most of yesterday rolling around on Anth’s couch watching Maury while he went to work and did damage control.  I’m thinking I was probably compared to Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. They definitely think he hired me.



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