Tag Archives: birthday

Happy Birthday America

My favorite holiday is upon us. So many birthdays this week, Lucky’s, America’s, oh and this is our 500th post. Go us! We did it!

I’ll keep this short, because I’m off doing cool things to help America ring in her birthday.. catch ya Friday on the flip side.

MERICA!

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Need a little luck

There’s something I’ve been going back and forth with all week deciding whether or not to bring it up on this here bloggity-blog.  Since I have nothing else to yammer on about today I figured why not? I’ll get myself all hyped up for what’s for sure going to be a big letdown.

I haven’t mentioned High School Crush in a while, mostly because there’s really nothing new to report.  Earlier this month I had a mini-melt down because we hadn’t talked in a week and I thought 3 months of hard work was down the drain, but we’re back to talking almost every day again and all is right with the world.

Anyway, last week he told me he’d be going on guys golfing vacation this week with his Dad and his Dad’s friends to Florida. I didn’t expect to talk to him all week because why would he want to talk to me when he’s in Florida?! To my surprise we’ve been talking more than normal.  Maybe it’s because he’s been drunk and surrounded by old dudes all week, or maybe he finds texting me to vent about how it sucks that all the old men have to take naps every afternoon and he has to go to the pool by himself as better than sitting at the pool talking to no one.  Either way, it’s been funny. 

Early in the week he asked about my weekend plans.  It was pretty run of the mill, but normally I’m the one that’s asking and ultimately waiting for that moment when he says, “Oh! Proposing to my girlfriend, how should I do it?” But this time he asked.  I told him I didn’t have any big plans other than a birthday party Friday night and that’d I’d probably just be hanging around relaxing.  And that was the end of it.

A few days passed and he brought up the weekend plans again, “So you’re just hanging out this weekend then?” he said.  And I’m all, “Well yeah, I’m kind of a loser.” So then he starts telling me about how he flies back from Florida on Saturday and his friend is having this birthday party that night and would I want to drive down and go to it.

For a few minutes I was really confused.  Did the world just end or did HSC just ask me to hang out? I had to pinch myself a few times to make sure I was awake, but sure enough it actually happened.  I told him I would go and to let me know the details Saturday afternoon.

Then I went into over-analyzation/panic mode about the whole thing.  Yeah, going to the birthday would be fine, but what happens after? I don’t live in the city and neither does he.  So would we be staying at his friend’s house? Should I assume that since he invited me to the party I’m also invited to stay at the friend’s house? Are we going to be cuddled up on some beer soaked floor? What if all the girls Lucky and I hated in high school are there and start throwing tomatoes at me and instead of standing up for me he laughs? Lucky and I were friends with the group of guys that he hangs around with, but the girls…. Shudder.  I started frantically texting everyone I know that lives in that city. Luckily, my dear friend Chuck has agreed to take me in for the evening.  Lord knows she owes me one, or a hundred.  

Like the last time HSC and I made plans to meet up at the festival, I won’t believe we’re actually going to hang out until he’s standing in front of me.  I can just see so many things going wrong with this: his flight getting delayed, him being too tired from traveling to go to the party, my car blowing up on the drive down, etc…etc…

Also, I bought 5 lotto tickets for the Mega Million today.  1 out of 2 has to go right for me this weekend, right? Fingers crossed!!

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The Art of Being Single

Step 1:   Have a fuck you attitude toward the world.  

Step 2:   Don’t hide your flaws.

Step 3:  Date every asshole imaginable.

Step 4:  When you’re nearing a scary milestone in your life (30) plan a Euro-Trip with your co-blogger/best friend.

And if not….

Sunday night Lucky and I got to talking.  Yes our lives are boring, we hate men, our jobs are going no where, we have nothing to look forward to yada yada yada… then we came up with the most brilliant plan ever – Europe.  

3 weeks in summer 2015 Italy, Greece, France, Spain, England… we’ll be there celebrating our 30th birthdays.

 

So we are pretty excited about it.  We’re going to eat good food, drink good booze and get ourselves cultured.  We’re planning it four years in advance because we’re not going to backpack through Europe – we’re going to live in the lap of luxury.  And by that I mean we plan on staying in hotels and not hostels where we will get murdered and raped.   So we will be saving up our monies for the next 4 years so our fun Euro Trip doesn’t send us into debt.  All while all of our married, kid frenzied friends are spending their hard earned bucks on formula and diaper genies. 

 

We realize that four years is a long time.  But let’s be honest – 4 years ago Lucky and I were no closer to marriage and families then we are today, so we are pretty confident we won’t have to cash in our Euro fund for a down payment on a new mini-van. 

 

Traveling through Europe is something I have wanted to do for years.  I never studied abroad because I didn’t think I could last 4 months away from home, but I was always so jealous of those who did.  They came back knowing new languages, they had new life-long friends from across the country, they had stories of the sights they saw in different countries, and pictures of themselves with famous landmarks.   Finally – Lucky and I can live it up!

 

Anyway, I got yelled at and called a bitch this morning by a homeless man because I wouldn’t give him a new shirt in the backseat of my car and my lunch.  I see the guy at the same place every day, he’s always standing at the stoplight when I get off the expressway with a sign saying “Homeless: Need work or food.”

 

Living in the big city I see multiple homeless people daily – they all want money, free food, or a job.  Well don’t we all.  I mean yeah, I feel sorry for them because I know it’s rough out there, but 99% of the homeless people begging for money on the streets are just lazy.    So I pull up and every morning when I see this guy standing at the stop light with his sign I groan, because he’ll stand at the front of your car with his sign and stare at you expecting a hand out, but he’s never said anything to me until today.

 

He walks up to my car with his sign, I shake my head and don’t make eye contact.  Then he starts beating on my window saying, “Hey can I have that shirt back there?” I shook my head and continued looking forward, then he beats again, “Hey can I have the food in that bag (my lunch)”  I shook my head again and continued looking forward.  Then he beats so hard to the point where I was afraid the window would break and he says, “Hey give me one of those waters back there!!” I had the remainder of a package of water bottles in my backseat and there were like 3 bottles left.  I finally looked over, screamed “NO! GO AWAY!” and he walked away but not before saying, “Bitch.”

 

I’m all about helping people who are less fortunate then myself, but I’m not going to give handouts to people who just expect me to give them whatever I have, who are rude, and lazy.   I mean, I do NOT drive a nice car so it really pissed me off that this hobo thought he could walk up to my car and start calling out demands of things he wanted me to give him.  #2, my window doesn’t roll down – so I’ll be damned if I open up my door to give someone a damn bottle of water.  Every morning I get irritated with this guy because he stands there for hours upon hours asking people in the street for money instead of walking across the street to the 4 or 5 gas stations, Mcdonalds, Wendys, and Burger King and filling out applications. 

 

I get pretty annoyed at this group of girls that I see on my way home from work too, almost to the point where I have opened my door to say something to them because I want to tell them off.  But, I don’t want to get shot so I keep my mouth shut and my door closed.  These girls, usually 5-10 of them stand in the intersection before you get to the expressway in the street with Tupperware containers collecting money.  Yes, nice, EXPENSIVE Tupperware containers.  They are well dressed, carry coach wristlets, and are wearing new Nike’s and people are still giving them money. 

 

For a while when it was just 2 or 3 of them I thought maybe they were raising money for something, but as I’ve watched their group grow I have realized that they’re just standing there asking for people to give them cash.  And they usually do have their Tupperware containers full of dollar bills.  If my window worked I would 100% roll it down one day and ask what they are raising money for just to make them feel stupid.  But then again, they never come up to my car – because I’m a white woman and they can’t sweet talk me like they can the brothas.

 

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To Gizzy’s house: part II.

After we ripped the shots with the 20-somethings, we played a nice round of beer pong with them.  I don’t even remember who won, TMA.  Too much alcohol.

And we’d had enough, so we went back to the roof to continue our personal drinking antics.

At some point or other, we decided it was time to go inside and start getting ready for the night (birthday dinner at a sushi joint!) while watching a little Teen Mom, of course.

This is when we decided to put the wine glasses to the test (Gizzy got one for herself). And yes, we’ve got pics to prove it (coming soon, Thoughtsappear!). So we got all fresh and clean and into some slutastic dresses and headed out.  I mean, not to brag, but we looked good.

Once we were seated, Gizzy was completely disturbed and overtaken by a couple across the room. They were acting as though they were on a first date, but in fact, they were married.  They also looked Amish.  I may have also made the comment, “I didn’t know Amish people ate sushi.”  They were just about as awkward as you could imagine, no conversation, no footsie, not even any eye contact.  I wanted to order a round of shots for them laced with viagra.  At the end of the dinner they got up from the table and held hands as they walked away, really?! I’m sure they went home and got it on all over their beige furniture and against their white walls after like the best date EVER. Christ.

Anyway, we ordered a bottle of sake, some edamame, and several sushi rolls that were absolutely heaven. The waiter even brought us a delish dessert with a birthday candle in it! Happy Birfday Lucky!

We left, and hopped into a cab to get to this bar the guys swore was always a good time. Well…the atmosphere was pretty cool, but it was really cliquey, and we were looking for single, hot guys. so we ventured to the bathroom and as soon as we came out, this guy is all, “HEY HAVE YOU MET MY FRIEND?” So we go and chat it up with his friend, who insists we go get ourselves a drink and meet him later.  One of them wasn’t bad looking, but they also informed us they had been drinking all day, we took that as though they weren’t looking for some friendly conversation and peaced out.  I would’ve been really into it about 4 drinks later.

He doesn’t offer to buy us the drink. So we took a shot and left.

Our next stop was actually full of hotties, along with some lady who had her tits painted in red, white, and blue. So we had a drink there, I tried to dance with some sistas, but it didn’t work out. Upon our arrival, we got free passes to this supposed dance club upstairs, so we decided to check it out…only to see that it was basically loser central with a blowup doll on stage.  And a retard, I love me some retards, but not on the dance floor.  And especially not when a stripper pole is in the hizzy.

NEXT!

We went across the street and THAT’S where the party was. They had awesome music, the place was packed, and the DJ kept being like, “IT’S LUCKY’S BIIIIRTHDAY!” And she gave out free shots of something…it was good.

So G and I were talking, dancing, or something when this guy comes up to Gizzy all dressed in a white button down with a skinny black tie, and tells her he’s a billionare…He said his name was Danny, and he didn’t want to tell me his last name because I would only use him for his money (versus… his penis? IDK) and I simply said, “Unless it’s Bonaduce, I don’t care.”  Still, he was cute enough and I was drunk enough that I was contemplating throwing him a make out.

And, just when you think he’s sort of cocky, yet sort of cute, he completely falls over backward, pulling a bistro table down with him.

Seriously! Funniest part of the night!

I was certain he was going to get kicked out, but he popped right up like it never happened. And kept dancing. Regardless, Gizzy and I turned our backs to him. Just then, this smokin’ hot guy comes up to Gizzy, introduces himself and they are chatting it up while I’m probably stumbling around alone.

The hot guy leaves for a brief second, comes back, and is all, “Hey guys! Meet my friend Danny”—the billionaire. Hot guy was laughing, knowing full well this Danny guy was hammered and that we had just been talking to him and shunned him. Danny is all dancing like Lady Gags, doing some robot shit, and his friends are off in the distance laughing hysterically, while Danny sloshes drink all over my party dress.

All the while, I’m talking to hottie, who’s name is Mat (yes another one, but spelled different.) He had big muscles that Lucky kept feeling and was tall, and hot, and even asked for my number.  He has texted me quite a bit since that weekend, and I”ve been somewhat responsive.  I start out strong and then get too drunk and forget to write him back. Also take note that I don’t question why I’m single anymore.  I just know why now.

Around 1:30, we bolted. I had a good buzz and didn’t want to over do it and end up with my head in the toilet.

So we head back to the house, in an interesting cab, who told us everything we needed to know about driving one.  They have to lease the cabs for $300-450 A WEEK! I might now be interested in starting a cab business.

Once we get back to the house, half of the bachelor party is missing.  Gizzy surprises me with a huge German chocolate cake (my favorite) that’s basically in a safe. My new friends sang me happy birthday and we chow down.

Then, we venture back to Gizzy’s room for a game of Mouse Trap. At this point, we are sipping on the remaining wine in our glasses that have already collected dust—and no, we don’t seem to care.

One of the guys from the party joins us, and begins to tell us rousing information that he’s learned as a med student. During this conversation we learned a lot about how we can contract STD’s and not even see the symptoms basically until we die. Med student then discussed giving us each a pap-smear in my bathroom to check for unsuspected STDS we may have contracted in our days sleeping with dirty gentlemen suitor whores and we all got up from our chairs…

…TO BE CONTINUED…

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Big City Weekend #1 – FAIL

Well my first weekend in the big city went ok.  I didn’t get mugged, raped, or murdered so I guess it was a success.  I have been sleeping with a kitchen knife next to my bed though, just in case.

I am totally aware that I look like a serial killer.  But as long as it’s intimidating to all of the robbers, I’m ok with it.

Weekend #1 started off just peachy king because I broke my crackberry Friday morning and literally thought the world was going to end.  I couldn’t go out because christ although I may seem dumb, I know it’s not smart to go out without any means of communication.

But Saturday morning I willingly got into a strangers car with just my ipod as a way of communicating and didn’t think a thing about it because Anth vouched for the guy.

Anth and I got into our first roommate fight because of my lack of communication.  I had plans to meet this rental agent Saturday morning to look at apartments, right?  Well I had to email him just before I left and be all, “Hey I don’t have a phone but I have an ipod so I guess just email me if there’s a problem.”  There was a problem.  I took the wrong interstate and ended up in the suburbs but of course I couldn’t get on my ipod to email the guy and tell him I’d be a tad late.  An hour after we were supposed to meet I finally showed up, thankfully he was still there because he called Anth and he told him I had left like 2 hours ago to drive miles. Neither of them were concerned about my safety or well being though.

Here is the string of emails I had from Anth when I finally did get an internet connection:

A: Gizzy, wtf are you doing!?

G (2 hours later): I got lost! I ended up in the suburbs!

A: WTF! Email him back! He called me like 15 min ago and said he emailed him.  Call him.

G: I did email him back!! I don’t have a phone how in the EFF am I supposed to call him without a phone!

A: AHAHAHA do you have your laptop open in your shotgun seat or what?  You are such a retard.

G: I think he left 😦 are you at home? Come get me.  I’m scared.

A: No, panera.  Damnit Gizzy, he is going to hate me now.  You know this is work for him on a Saturday, right?

G:  I know it’s work for him!! I feel so bad.  I’m at Starbucks, call him and tell him to come meet me!

A:  I just talked to him, he’s on his way back.  He’s a nice guy so he won’t ask, but you should probably do something to make this up to him, if you know what I mean…

G: Are you flippin’ kidding me? I hate you.

A: Email me when you’re on your way home and I’ll come back.  We have some evening planning to do.

So… yada yada yada… I found a GREAT apartment.  And now I’m flipping out because we’re in price negotiations and I haven’t heard anything back for 2 days.  I just can’t handle this kind of pressure and not knowing if I get to live there.  I’ll cry if I don’t get this apt, I really will.

Anyway, I got back to the apt and Anth and I began to plan out our evening around the first and last birthday party of 2011 either of us will be invited to.  I wasn’t even really invited, but you know, by association.

It started as us going to get some lunch at a little bar and grill around the corner while we mapped out our game plan for the night.  Of course we had to have a pitcher to fuel our great ideas.  Then we decided we needed some fresh new swag for the party that ended up not being fresh or swag at all.  We went into the lacoste store and found matching nautical themed girls and guys shirts.  We got them.  I know, probably the worst $35 I have ever spent.  When someone posts pictures from the party on facebook I’ll put one of us up here, many pictures were taken.

Anyway, captain and skipper showed up to the party and unbeknown to me Anth was introducing me to everyone as “The Hook Line and Sinker.”  Why? I have absolutely no idea.  But it pissed me off so I started calling him Mustang Sally as a form of cock-blocking, which gradually turned into “Sally wets herself.” I really just don’t even know. Before the party was over it became a competition between us of who could cock/vagina block the best.  I’d have to say it was a tie, we both pulled out all the stops (I would elaborate further if I remembered what the stops were.) And carried ourselves home.  Not too much drama for weekend number one, but not quite enough for it to be a success.

Sunday I got the Sunday afternoon blues and started to miss my family.  So Anth took me to see his choice of movies, The Green Hornet, it was actually pretty good but he fell asleep.

This is probably the best relationship I’ve ever been in, #1 we’re not actually in a relationship so I don’t have to have sex with him, sleep in the same bed as him, or be all lovey dovey… What I do get is: A wing-man to every event, someone who is just as big of a loser as I am who will go shopping/to the movies with me and think it’s fun, and he’s no where close to having a girlfriend so I can find a real boyfriend and tap out first so I’m not lonely.  Win win win!

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