Tag Archives: boys

A Dinner with Sweater Vest

My bad guys, I forgot to write a post on Wednesday.  With that being said, TGIF!

This summer is starting out with a bang, and I’m trying to get out of my normal hum-de-dum lazy haze and do some things so that I’m not sitting at work watching the seasons change out the window like a tool.

Tuesday night I had dinner with Dina and wait for it…. Sweater Vest.  I know our dear friend Just Married Girl just got really excited!

I arrived at the restaurant first and SV came in a few minutes later.  Dina was, as always, 30 minutes late.  By the time she arrived SV and I were each 2 beers and an appetizer in, and had already caught up on the past 4 years.

He casually mentioned that he had a girlfriend, which I already knew because of facebook.  But it’s weird, we had a thing back in the day and I didn’t want it to be inappropriate if I asked questions so I just dropped it there.

Another beer later Dina brought up the girlfriend and asked when she was coming to visit.  Apparently the girl lives halfway across the country, who knows how they met.  But he mentioned that she’s moving to The Big City in a month and they are going to live together.  AND if that goes well he’s going to propose by the end of the year.

I’M SORRY! But how did this happen? Not 6 months ago SV was up Dina’s ass to get us to hang out, which I made excuses over and over that I was busy and now he’s engaged to be engaged?

Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not interested in SV in that way, I semi have High School Crush now (Grand Prize, I win!) but is this what happens in adult relationships? If you have been dating the person for 6 months and you don’t hate each other it’s time to move in and get married?

This is just a little too much for me to handle, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that if I get a serious boyfriend I might have to take a poop while he’s under the same roof.  Or after 6 months I might start doing my nightly before bed rituals in front of him (chapstick, chapstick, chapstick, hair in an ugly girl bun, baggy t-shirt, and shorts – shacker style).  HSC and I have been talking for 6 months and I haven’t even let him see me without make up on yet but in SV’s world we could be engaged to be engaged.  The best part was that Sweater Vest’s reason for being engaged to be engaged was, “We’re compatiable, so why not?” PSHHHHHHHHH!  OK!

Clearly I’m not at the same emotional maturity level of SV and we’ll just leave it at that.  To make matters better, Dina wants the three of us to go out again tonight to get pants shitting drunk. Hrmph.

Wednesday night I got a text from 2nd Crush saying he was coming up to the big city Saturday night and asked if I wanted to hang.  I failed to mention that the last time I saw 2nd Crush was a few months back when I was face deep in HSC’s mouth… HSC and I spent the night at Chuck’s house, as did 2nd Crush and his partner in crime.  At one point in the night I went into the living room and found 2nd Crush and his friend sitting on the couch each wearing a woman’s big floppy hat just having a chat. 2nd Crush was all, “Who is this guy you’re with? I don’t know him!” and I was all, “Um mind your own beeswax, Grandma!” and we really haven’t talked since then.

If I’m not too hungover from the night out with SV and Dina that I’ll probably end up bailing on anyway, maybe I’ll go… for the blog.

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Anger Management at its Finest

Hey Kiddies… TGIF! Am I right or am I right?  I’m totes right.  So I had a totally different blog written for today that might have made me a bad person and I’ll probably post it in the future, but some things happened this morning that take precedence over making fun of the less fortunate.  (And I wonder why we only have 5 readers.)

Today started out being annoying before I ever even opened my eyes.  Usually on Fridays I set my alarm for an hour earlier than I normally get up through the week because I want to get to work early and leave early.  Usually I hit the snooze for an hour and fifteen minutes, but today 35 minutes before my alarm went off I heard Anth screaming at someone on the phone.  And that’s how I knew today would fucking suck.

I laid there for about 15 minutes waiting for him to stop so I could get an extra little power nap in before I needed to really get up, but it didn’t happen so I turned the tv on and started watching Home Improvement (per Lucky’s suggestion.)

So I drug my unhappy ass out of bed, got ready and ventured downstairs to see that it had snowed.  UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  For those of you who don’t live in a giant city that gets large amount of snow, thank your lucky stars.  Even though the city does a fairly good job at keeping the streets clean and most of these people have been dealing with driving in snow their whole entire lives it never fails that SOMEONE will ruin it for everyone and have an unnecessary wreck because they are driving like a jackass.  It didn’t happen this morning, but the day is only half over and I’m totally expecting it to take me 4 hours to get home from work tonight.

After I bitched and moaned about the snow to myself for a solid 25 minutes, Anth came in and informed me that Doogie had been talking to him about our “living situation” the other night and said he was going to be moving in with his girlfriend around May.  So we’re thinking February.  This isn’t horrible news, mainly because I need to get out of my apartment and away from the stress of living with disgusting inconsiderate boys.  BUT, it really puts a time crunch on finding a new job in a city that will make me happy.  I was fully expecting to be able to take my sweet time finding an awesome job and have a place to live while I did it.

So what do I do now? Pray that I can find a job by May and if I don’t I have to sign another year long lease in misery-ville?  I’ve already started the apartment hunting in hopes that I can find a building that will do month-to –month leases, even if it means I have to illegally purchase a gun from a man named Bear in an alley behind a bar to keep myself safe at night, I will not be stuck here longer than I have to be!  Although, if I have to offer mediocre sexual favors to those interviewing me in the future to get a job where I want to be before the move out date, it would be more action than I’ve gotten in the past 18 months, so maybe not such a bad thing.  I’ll make a pro/con list to help and share later; I know you guys will need it to help me decide what to do too.

After all of that trauma set in, Anth then told me that he ate my food and I have no dinner.  I know that I could have worse problems because there are many people out there that do, but these are the life and times of a suburban white girl.  Plus it was either me ranting about this or making fun of a guy who might have mental issues, I feel like I took the high road.

Anyway, I flung open the dishwasher prepared to throw whatever I could grab quickly at his face when I saw my broken wine glass.  Remember when Lucky came to visit and I got us matching (they’re plain, but for drama’s sake) giant wine glasses that hold an entire bottle of wine?  Well that would be the glass that was broken.  Some dickface (Anth) put a cast iron skillet on top of it retardedly thinking a precious fragile stem of a wine glass could hold it.  IDIOT.  So I went off about that as I scooped shards of glass out of the dishwasher and threw them on the floor while screaming at Anth, “YEP! I hope you step on these.  JACKASS!!!!”

Then, he has the audacity to tell me he was kidding about the food and my dinner is still safe and sound in its Styrofoam box hidden in the back of the refrigerator.  OH I’M SORRY FOR OVERREACTING! But why in fucks name would a person say that if they didn’t in fact eat your dinner? Just to get a rise out of me and see how crazy I’ll get? I don’t know.  So I said to him, “Were you testing the waters to see if I’d freak out so you could eat it at lunch?” And he was all, “No Gizzy, I have a lunch date, remember?”  Oh right he does, with the girl that stood him up, twice. “Ok, well, hope you get AIDS. Peace the fuck out.”

And now I’m here.  Doing nothing at work because it’s 10AM and I’ve already had a rough day.  Clearly.  Totally going to have myself a lunch time cocktail in about 10 minutes.  If anyone would like to join me, I’ll be on the parking garage roof.

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RIP my car

Ellooooo governa! This is going to be short and sweet as I’ve had one of the longest most whirlwind days of my life (talking about Wednesday here, not Thursday).  Not only was work hell and I made the executive decision to try and go through all of my emails and stay until 7pm when I should’ve left at 4 I came home to find one of my old college friends Periwinkle at my apartment.

I should back up a little, yes Lucky is coming to my house this weekend and I am SOOOOO excited, but Anth is also hosting a bachelor party of 20 guys at our house.  Hrmph.  Lucky and I have a list of things to do and places to be so hopefully they don’t get in the way.   Anyway, it’s Periwinkle’s bachelor party and he came in town yesterday to do some business before hand.

So when I got home, instead of doing my normal lay in my bed and nap for 3 hours, eat some dinner, and go back to bed I had to sit downstairs and socialize.  AND miss The Voice 😦 so not fair.  So I was already feeling a little out of my element.

9pm rolled around and I decided I should go tanning since I have 2 days left on my contract.  So I go and on my way home BAM CRASH BOOM.  Car accident.  I knew it was inevitable with traffic being the way it is here and the 8 million people, but I would’ve never guessed I would’ve gotten in an accident at 10 o’clock at night when there is 0 traffic.

So what happened? I’m minding my own business driving home and was about .2 miles from my apartment, like literally had to turn a corner and I’d be home when I go down a little slope and run into the side of this chick’s car.  She was pulling out of a parallel parking space and I don’t know she seemed pretty dingy, so she probably didn’t even look to see if any cars were coming.  I tried to stop but it didn’t happen.  My car is drivable… but it looks pretty rough…

So after I slam into the side of this girl’s car a guy jumps out and is looking at the damage, I fall out of my car like I almost died and he asks if I’m ok, I say yeah and dig through my purse to find my phone to call the cops all the while the driver is just sitting in the car.  I’m all, “Uhh is she ok?” And he’s like “Oh she hit her head.”  Eventually she gets out and says she’s fine, the cops tell us if the cars are driveable they’re not coming and we should just exchange information and come to the police station within 48 hours to file a report.  Some city huh?

So we do, by this time it’s pushing 10 (my bedtime) and I don’t feel like subjecting myself to a big city police station before bed.   The couple tells me they are going to go tonight to get it over with and I tell them I’m going to go tomorrow to kick off my vacation the right way. We leave and 30 minutes later I get a call from them saying they’re at a police station in the suburbs and the cops told them to tell me not to file another police report because having 2 would make it confusing.  Hrmmm… ok, and they also didn’t need a statement from me.  It’s weird.  They gave me a report number so I’m going to go to the police station and see if they’ll give me a copy of the report.  

BUT, I googled it and in anyway shape or form this accident is this girls fault, whether they filed the report or I did…. people pulling out of parking spots have to yield to oncoming traffic no matter what so I guess I should chillax.  

My poor little old car, now every time I go over a bump it makes this horrifying sound like it wants to die.  Stay strong car, stay strong, help is coming in the form of an insurance check. 

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I liked Glee Clubs before it was cool

It’s no secret that my life has been a little… how shall I say it… boring.  Lucky is over here getting Bartled and Jamesed left and right and I’m at home playing with my sims.  It makes me think of the Sex and The City Episode when Carrie and Charlotte go to an affirmation reading and the lecturer tells Charlotte she’s not really putting herself out there, and Carrie is all BITCH, PLEASE! I feel like Charlotte, I’m out and about doing things non-alcohol related so I can try and meet some classy people that aren’t all about getting wasted (the wastedness will have to come later once we all get to know each other, obvi) and I’m still not meeting any quality people.  

I thought mayyybe there would be some good people to hang out with at my workout class, the trainer at least.  But no, the trainers just piss me off.  Like how can you have confidence in someone telling you to do an exercise when you’re already in better shape than them?  That’s the case with both of my trainers, especially the girl.  She’s one of those girls who is probably in decent shape but you can’t tell because she’s so thick in the trunk.  Like KimK thick.  Then, because I skipped ONE session she’s all “OMG, GIZZY! I’m SOOOO PROUD OF YOU!” Anytime I show up to class.  And I’m the only one she says it to.  Condescending bitch.  Then, they decide they’re going to make fun of my skinny legs and how I do every exercise wrong and be all, “Oh ahahahahah Gizzy, you’re like my favorite!” Shut the fuck up and go eat a dick, whore.

Anyway, that’s not what today’s post is about.  Since I’m lacking in the guy area I’ve been facebook creeping on friends from college who live in my city and this past weekend I came across this guy Chris’ page.  His status read, “First time back in the studio in 2 years…feels good!” Then I thought, “Studio? What’s he doing in the studio? Ohhhhhhh, right… he’s awesome.” So I liked his status and it brought me back to my college years when I met Chris and I lived in a sorority and became a Glee Club groupie.  

All of my friends made fun of me, told me the Glee guys were lame because most of them were religious and they were genuine nice guys who opened doors for girls and waited for girls to be seated at the table before they sat down, the kind of guys that are impossible to find anymore.  And I’m telling you now, if I had stuck with those Glee guys I would be married to one of them right now.

 It went down like this, my sorority hosted the male Glee Club for dinner one night – in return they serenaded us.  And Chris, head of the Glee Club, assigned himself to me.  Not only were these guys incredible singers/musicians they were all hot, too.  It was EXACTLY like GLEE, minus the trampy whores.  Like I can honest to god say nothing has turned me on more than being serenaded by these guys, it’s the kind of hot that you don’t get every day just walking down the street making out with drunk strangers.

Anyway, they sang and danced and I swooned over them all, we ate dinner, then me and a few of my sorority sisters went to a party with some of them.  I fell in love with Chris’ Glee friend, Levi.  I don’t think anything ever really happened because he was a gentleman and at the time I was all about being drunk (not much has changed), we hung out a few times and remained friends but I was into being a bar rat and he had morals. However, he did put me in the video where he documented the making of his first album. Sigh. 

Now he has a record deal, and he’s out touring the world with his….wife.   I know, I know, if it was meant to be we would’ve ended up together yada yada yada…. we’re not each others soul mates.  BUT, it could’ve happened! If he was still single today I think it would’ve worked out and I wouldn’t have blown him off for some frat boy jock.  Did I forget to mention that Levi asked me to the Glee Club’s Soiree and I turned him down to go to a frat formal? That’s when we stopped hanging out, and the world ended.  UGH!! I’m so pissed off at my 21 year old self for being such a stupid whore.  What can ya do?!

 

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He’s a little…out of your league.

Well I just finished day 2 of boot camp, literally 10 minutes ago.  I could puke.  Day 1 wasn’t so bad, everyone takes their “Before”pictures and gets measurements taken and all that jazz.  So after day 1 I treated myself to a bacon egg and cheese biscuit  from McDonalds, it will be the last time we touch lips for some time.  Anyway, Anth didn’t go to the first day because he was out of town and by the looks of the instructors and the rest of the people in the class I knew it wouldn’t be his cup of tea.  He’s really in shape and thinks the amount he can bench press should impress girls and told me first hand he wants nothing to do with “downward facing dog.”

When day 2 rolled around this morning we pulled up about 4 minutes till 5 and the instructor (we’ll call her Nazi-Whore) walks outside and starts clapping her hands at us, “Come on! You’re late, last one in the building runs an extra mile.” Excusie? We are not late.  YOU were 10 minutes late the first day so shut your Nazi-Whore hole.  Neither Anth nor myself enjoys people who think they can boss us around so we both may have trouble with the Nazi-Whore because she was like that the entire fricking time.  The first exercise? Downward facing dog.  Bahaha!  Which by the way was perfect for someone like me who hates to work out and rarely does so.  I think in the end it will give me the results I’m looking for (a toned non-muscular beach bod.)  Anth thought it was “gay” but agreed to keep going because “it will get him in even better shape,” tool.  He totes loved it.  The only thing he complained about was stretching his ass infront of all the people that were walking in for the 6am class.  Mwhahaha.

Anyway, summer is vastly approaching and that means… summer looooove!!  Since I am officially revirginized I have to pick someone to give up my 3rd virginity to.  Yes, this over 1 year since any woopie has happened once before, in college.  My sorority sisters had a ceremony for my “pure soul” and I had to give a speech (it was good, it included bible versus by candlelight and will be posted in due time), then we all went out and got pants shitting drunk to try and get me some sex.  Which didn’t happen for another 4 or 5 months, so I still have a few months before I break my record.

But, yesterday I thought I had potentially locked down a doctor at lunch.  I sat at the “singles” bar where all of the people who don’t have any friends to eat with sit and stare at the wall.  I sat down next to a woman doctor and a few minutes later a hot young surgeon sat down next to me.  Well, hello hellooooo.  I was reading Lucky’s post for yesterday while I ate my burger when the Doctor says, “Whatcha reading there? A blog? What’s it about? It’s so hard to find interesting blogs.”  I quickly closed out the browser and said, “Yeah… the site I’m reading is pretty meh, I think I’ll look for something more compelling.” Totes not trying to knock our blog but I cannot have people at my workplace reading this.  #1 I would abso get fired for talking so much shit #2 What if this doctor would’ve asked me out right after I told him I have this blog where me and my best friend rant about all of our sexual escapades and relationship failures? The stuff on the blog is like 1 year anniversary material.  So anyway, I don’t know if he saw the name or the web address, we could potentially have a new reader… Ellooo doctor! Or maybe he was just trying to make small talk so he could ask me out and then changed his mind because I’m such a spaz.   Who knows.

After it seemed as though my ultimate plan of finding a doctor to love me was taking a turn for the better I came home and started telling Anth about it, he could’ve cared less.  Then Lucky starts telling me about how she is going to see the Hangover 2 this weekend and I’m all, “Anth! The Hangover 2 comes out this weekend, we gotta go see it next week!” And he’s all, “No, we have to go see Thor, my friend who is in it is coming to visit in a few weeks and how big of assholes will we be if none of us have seen it?” Hold the bus, “Your friend was in THOR, THE MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!!!??? How many lines does he have?” “Ummm he was like one of the main characters?” This sparked an idear in my head, “Do you think he’ll want to be my boyfriend?” Anth cracked up and was all, “Maaaaaybbeeee… but he’s a little…out of your league.  I mean, he’s a movie star.”  Well asshole, obviously I was kidding but now I am going to make it my life goal to lose my 3rd virginity to Anth’s friend in Thor.  I started boot camp for Pete’s sake, in 2 weeks I am going to look DAMN GOOD! I mean for real, I have to set some goals for myself or I won’t keep going to boot camp.  So, thanks Anth… you just motivated me to lose 5 pounds.  Dick.

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Revirginization

So I had a hot date this weekend.  Don’t get too excited, it was with myself.  You know how people always say, “How can you expect someone to love you when you don’t love yourself?” I’ve become a master at loving myself and still no love from the fellas.  But, I’m fine with that.  Honestly, if I had my pick of going out to dinner and making meaningless conversation with a stranger with false hopes of him being “the one” or sitting on my ass watching chick flicks and ordering in wings, cheese fries, and beer – I’d pick the later.  

Is this what biter sounds like?  I think so.  I do believe I have good reason to be biter though.  I realized this past week that it has been almost 14 months since I’ve gotten laid.  That’s right, one-four.  There are people out there who have gotten pregnant twice since the last time I had sex.  To tell you the truth, I didn’t even notice and I certainly didn’t miss it, especially not the awkwardness afterward and the whole “do you have a condom” convo, and I DEFINITELY didn’t miss the guy not knowing what to do with my lady parts.  This might be more of me becoming a-sexual talk than biter.  I think I heard once a-sexual people are serial killers? That might be a lie, either way still scary.

I guess I could blame my “revirginization” (as we’ll call it) on being busy, starting a new job, and all that jazz.  But I think it’s mostly that I haven’t met a guy since Hottie that I’ve had a romantic connection with and that’s a little scary too, almost more scary than a-sexual serial killers.  Because if I’m 26 and can’t find a guy that I find interesting enough to hop in the sack with, how much worse is it going to get the older I get and the further their hairlines recede?  I’m dong my part here boys, I’ll keep my goodies looking perky if you buy Rogaine in bulk.  

Anyway, enough of me feeling sorry for myself because my vagina is literally contemplating retirement and on to some real news.  I start boot camp this morning.  That’s in oh… 6 hours.  It’s going to be rough I won’t lie.  I was just telling Lucky about my instructor, he’s an ex-marine with a soul patch.  Ex-marine – ok… soul patch – not ok.  I think the work out should be decent, but it will be hard to look at his face.  

This boot camp is 4 weeks long and 4 times a week.  My plan is to do some cardio on the days I’m not in class and then kill myself at the end of the 4 weeks.  Seriously though, I’m getting older, if I let my body go I have no chance at getting a hot husband who will inevitably cheat on me with his sexretary when my eye lids (and boobs) start to sag.  So when that happens I need to at least be able to look back at pictures of myself when I was looking my best, fingers crossed that will be after this class and not 10 years ago when I was in high school.

In other news, if anyone was following my great roommate debacle of last week I have decided to surrender my room to crack-head Tim so that I can buy a new car when mine decides to kick the bucket (which should be any day now), and then live out of it.  Really though, I don’t plan to be in this apartment much longer whether it’s in a room with doors or my dungeon.  I don’t fancy living with boys.  So that’s that.  I came to the conclusion this weekend while I was sitting in serenity with all the boys being gone for the weekend that no matter where I sleep in this apartment I will NEVER bring a guy I am half-way interested in here so I may as well get cheap rent out of the situation.  

I feel like after going on a really awesome date with a guy and him dropping me off and me being like, “Oh do you want to come in” just can not and will not ever happen as long as I am under this roof for the following reasons:

1. Introducing him to the roommates.  – Imagine having 3 older brothers and bringing your new boyfriend home to meet them, this is exactly how it would be for me, only my older brothers would be drunk and make jokes about my boobs.  Not attractive.

2. Disintegrating furniture – These guys have no class, our furniture is literally falling apart but I’m not shelling out the bucks to buy new so they can tear that up too, no way no how, and no way no how would I let a guy I like see that I live in such a hole.

3. The bathroom – No matter how much I clean, these guys get their hair everywhere, and there’s always toothpaste in the sink, ALWAYS.  Just gross, no respectable man that I date will be like this and he also shouldn’t have to be subjected to seeing disgusting men in their habitat.

4. The farts – With all 3 boys present in 1 room it smells like farts, whether they are farting or not they just as a whole stink like farts.  I can’t stand it, so no guy I date will be able to stand it either.

So there you have it, a few of the reasons why I can’t date until I move out of this crap hole.  As if I needed to convince any of you, I’m sure you’re all sitting there thinking Umm helloooo Miss Obvious, how about the fact that you live in a dungeon with no door for a reason???!!!  Touche friends, touche. 

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Aunt Cray Cray and the language of love

Did all you baby momma’s have a good Mother’s Day? My mom did, we bought her a new digital camera and god damnit she better love it! She does.  

Anyway, I’m just going to jump right into this because I can’t contain the crazy in my head any longer.  We got together with the fam yesterday for Mother’s Day.  I know every family has that 1 crazy aunt or uncle that’s a little wacky, but my aunt takes the cake.  She’s been married and divorced twice and just broke up with her boyfriend of a year.  I can’t even tell you how we got on the topic of love and relationships but all fucking hell broke loose when we did.  

She talked about her failed marriages, her failed relationships, how she doesn’t know why men and women would ever be paired together because we’re so different.  Regardless of the fact that she’s about to turn 50, probably going through menopause, AND a mid-life crisis and the fact that she is single, she was dead serious about this shit. 

As if the rambling wasn’t enough, she got out her purse and started showing us religious relationship books that men at church had given her.  She went on about how it was so inappropriate that they gave her these books because she thinks they were hitting on her, but she read the books anyway and they had some solid advice, in her opinion. Book #1:

The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts

She explained that the 5 love languages is finding out what 5 things your partner needs to fill up their “love tank” and how to make each other feel loved.  Because friends, if you’re love tank is full, you are a happy camper.  She went on to tell us in order the 5 things she needs to fill up her love tank: 

#1 Touch (which she described as “making love” and “foreplay” and “lying around naked and feeling each other” ok Aunt Cray Cray, you liked to get boned… we get it.)

#2 Quality time (I would say this goes along with the boning, no humping and dumping allowed)

#3 Service (also boning related?)

#4 Gifts

#5 Affirmations

Then she proceeded to tell us about how she had analyzed her failed relationships and what she thought their 5 love languages were and how she wasn’t fulfilling them, but she’s going to overflow her new boyfriend’s love tank with what he needs.  Mind you, this was all over a Mother’s Day brunch and none of the rest of us could get a word in edge wise, I just continued to eat to subside how uncomfortable I felt.

She had a short question and answer period at the end of reading us this book and since I’m the only fucking single one other than Aunt Cray Cray the spotlight was on me. She asked if I was to the point in my life where I’m beginning to analyze my failed relationships.  “Um yeah Aunt Cray Cray, I’ve been doing that since I was 18” now why is it that you think you do that? “Um because I’m awesome.” nom nom nom nom.  She went on to say that she’s going to get me a copy of the book because I need to find out what will fill up my love tank before I can ever be in another relationship again or I’m going to be a miserable unhappy cat lady for the rest of my life.  Aunt Cray Cray, I’ll tell you what will fill up my love tank: Finding a nice guy who won’t cheat on me.  Boom! Love tank full.

She didn’t go in as deep with the other 2 books that she pulled out and honestly I can’t even remember the names of them because I was too busy picking my confidence out of the dumpster to pay attention to her rants any longer, but they were equally ridiculous.  

I’m pretty much used to getting the short end of the stick when it comes to my family, I’m the most successful so I get the most shit.  I’ve pretty much boiled it down to everyone needs to make me feel like shit about being single because that’s all they can make me feel bad about in order to make themselves feel better, and I’m fine with it because I know I’ve got my education even if I am single the rest of my god forsaken life.  AND YOU CAN’T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME, SO HAH!

When I first started college my 90 year old great grandmother asked if I was done being Lucifer’s whore.  I didn’t have any idea what she was talking about so I was all, “Granny, what in the eff are you talking about you crazy old bat?” Then she attempted to “shake the devil out of me” because I “was for sure going to hell for going to college away from my family, the lord, and what I knew.” Alright, whatevs, pass the peas.  So as you can see, being an unhappy old hag is nothing compared to being a whore to the devil himself.

It’s no surprise to any of you that Lucky and I are depressed that we are practically the only single women left in our circles of friends.  Having my family call me out on being single with really no shot at ever finding love because I don’t know what I want didn’t so much upset me as it made me want to take action.  So when my non-crazy aunt started talking about how they are going to do this 17 mile bike ride through the city streets 2 states away on memorial day weekend I jumped the gun and said, “I WANT TO GO!”  Do I know how to ride a bike? Yes. Do I own a bike? No.  Do I have any business riding 17 miles on a bike in 2 weeks when I get winded walking up a flight of stairs? Fuck no.  

So now I’m stuck with this dilemma.  I wrote her a check to sign me up for the bike marathon, if that’s what you want to call it, because my short idiotic thoughts were that I need to get some hobbies and do things away from the bottle in order to meet the kind of guys I consider husband worthy.  Which isn’t a bad thought, but I don’t think going into cardiac arrest and being unconscious in the middle of the street 2 states away is really going to find me that dream man I’m looking for either.  

Really my only option is to buy one of these bike buggys and beg someone to pull me along so I can get my $35 worth and my free t-shirt.


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