Tag Archives: break ups


Can I get a count of hands of how many people thought:

1. That Lucky and I got in a fight and Cocktails at Tiffany’s was going to be Cocktail at Tiffany sans anything plural?

2. That I died

3. You didn’t even notice I was gone?

I’m sure it’s mostly the later.  Anywayyy, in case you were wondering a lot of stuff has happened these past few weeks.  I’ve almost died twice and had about 17 mental breakdowns about being a lonely cat lady for the rest of my life.  This convo even happened the other night:


Lucky: I know, I am so glad I don’t have a baby right now.

Me: Not me, I want a baby.  Because then someone would love me.

And I reiterate, “I want a baby because then someone would love me.” All. Time. Low.  It doesn’t help that I haven’t clearly seen the light of day in almost a week.

Everyone remember when like the whole country just got a wintery blast about a week ago?  My new big city is still recovering.  I was off work for 2 days. (Nothin’ wrong with that, holla.)

The night of le bliz-zard it took me nearly 4 hours to get home, and as soon as I walk in the door Anth and JM are shoving me right back out it to go to a bar because our power was out.  Heaven forbid we light the fireplace and some candles and have family game night.  No, we’ve got to get drunk.  So we do, and they go home with a couple of girls and I’m left to find my way home in this:

So I was drunk, I finally made the 2 mile hike home (I got a cab, he got stuck and kept the meter running so I gave him a $1 tip, in a blizzard, I’m an ass.) Anyway, I’m not sure what I expected to find when I woke up in the morning, but I didn’t really think the whole “blizzard” thing was going to pan out like everyone thought.  I was like ehh.. we’ll probably get like 10 inches, nbd.  When I opened the front door in the morning I quickly realized I was going no where:

So I parked it at home for the next 2 days.  Which somehow got me sick, and that brings us to today.  I’ve been sick for 9 days, and here it is my 4th week of work and I’ve taken yesterday and today off to recover from the super flu.  I really hope when I go back I still have a job since my boss didn’t answer her phone when I called in to leave the “I’m dying, hopefully be back tomorrow” voicemail.  So we’ll see.  I guess if they fire me I’d be ok with it, the big city is ok.  Honestly I’d rather be at home though.  Wahh wahh.  Poor Gizzy.

Anyway, mad props to Lucky for holding down the fort for the past month while I’ve gotten my life together.  That’s a friend/co-blogger.  I’ll try to get my funny up for the next post, but lets be honest, nothing about telling your readers you might be dying from living in 3 frat guys basement is funny.

Speaking of 3 frat guys and funny, I forgot to mention they had a super bowl party.  I forgot it mostly because I moaned and groaned and threw up in my mouth at the sight of all the sorostitutes they had over that wore going out clothes.  Yeah, for the super bowl.  They all had on high heels and costume jewelry.   The deal was all the girls that were coming make a dish, and each guy bring a case of beer.  It worked out well except the fact that my pores are seeping death so I went to the store bought a few things of chips and dip, a cheese plate, and some non-alcoholic beverages and called it a day.  Until I heard one of the whores whining about how, “Someone got lazy and bought their whole contribution.” No bitch, you do not come into my house and tell me I’m lazy.  You want me to make food? Ok, I’ll make some food and cough up something on it and we’ll see how much you like that.  And that’s exactly what happened when I went into the kitchen and “accidently” flipped my cheese plate over that she had no problem mowing down on her own.   So needless to say the prostitutes, I mean sorostitutes, boycotted the store bought non-homemade food.  Which is fine by me because now I have it to eat on my own and I’m sure there’s not semen in it (unlike some of the food they made I’m sure.)

So I’m learning this living situation isn’t going to last long.  I’m dying from living in a dungeon and I can’t stand being around the semen soaked whores they bring around.  Apartment hunting continued…

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Gizzy to the doghouse. Gizzy. To. The. Doghouse.

Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in.  A puffy eyed, half drunk, chicken legged, Gizzy.  My sincerest apologies for being MIA for the past week.  It’s been pretty difficult to write an anonymous blog with 3 frat guys in my face 24 hours a day.  Although Anth does know about the blog but refuses to read it, so I guess I could just tell them I need some “Me” time to come here and talk shit about them and maybe it would increase our readership.   Ah, well.

I pretty much assumed this weekend was going to be a bust when I got this email last week from one of my new broomies (bro-roomies):

From: JM

To: Everyone he knows

Subject: Keg O Beer

Good Day,

We had a house meeting and decided to get a Keg for the game on Saturday at our apt (two doors down from the
w-hore house).  It is nationally televised so we were thinking of getting started early.  Everyone is welcome and Doogie offered to pay for the keg  and Katie volunteered to make food sooooo we are all set.  This email is my only responsibility so if you have questions please contact Anth.  Not sure if I left anyone off so feel free to invite whoever.

Just to keep everyone up with the times “early” means 10am and the game wasn’t until that night and I also was not a part of this so called “house meeting.”  As I definitely would not have voted in favor for this Saturday morning kegger at our apartment.   Anyway, the kegger must go on whether I agree with it or not.  So I did my best to be an active participant after I got woken up with a keg beer at 10:30 Saturday morning and called up HOTTIE to invite him to the happenings.

HOTTIE and our 1 other guest arrived about 1pm where the heavy drinking commenced.  I honestly don’t remember ever seeing the actual game on, but there was a good 3-4 hours where I took a nap.  The good part of the story is yet to come when we started in on round 2, 12 hours later.

Round 2 started off with some good old fashioned beer pong and led into HOTTIE and I calling it a night 2 hours later where we ventured down to my dungeon in the basement, which is naturally about 65 degrees with the heat on.  I laid down on my bed, which is directly under the heat vent.  Most people would  consider having the vent right over them their life’s savior, but not me.  Any kind of air blowing on or around me makes me want to ralph all over the place.  I don’t know why and I don’t want to fix it.  So poor HOTTIE, bless his little soul, decides to open up the vent because I’m laying there shivering.  Then it went something like:

Gizzy: WTF ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!

HOTTIE: Umm, opening the vent so you’re not cold.

G: I’m not cold!! CLOSE IT!

H: Gizzy, you’re shivering.


H: But we’re going to freeze all night, it’s like 2 degrees down here.


So he closed the vent and went upstairs and I didn’t see him for the rest of the night.  In the morning he was pretty ho-hum about it all but I guess I should probably apologize for being a royal beeotch/not explaining my thing with air because he really hasn’t talked to me since he left yesterday morning.  I’m not really sure what kind of explaining I could even do to make myself not sound like a freak in this situation.  It’s just something I’m not willing to give up.  I can give a little on putting on all my chapsticks before I go to bed and I can give up twirling my hair, but the air, I will not seek treatment for air blowing on me making me feel sick.  I’m just getting to that age where a man is going to have to cater to my weirdness and I’m ok with it.  When I find a guy that hates air as much as me, I’ll know he’s THE ONE.

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It’s the saddest day, of the yeaaaaaar….

First things first, as of 12:45 pm today Neal Bledsoe has not accepted my facebook friend request.

I just had this crazy, sad dream about High School Crush.  I tried to make myself fall asleep so that I could fall back into it. But, what better to wake up to on a Friday afternoon then a  new post from your favorite bloggers about something that didn’t happen in real life with a guy who I’ll never get.

With all of the recent high school crush dramas going on around Thanksgiving where we almost hung out but didn’t quite make it, made me think that I am going to have to make the plunge and some week here soon I’m just going to say, “Hey HSC I am going to be in your city this Friday night, so let’s get together (ya ya yaaa.)”  If he agrees to it, I’ll make the haul, if he doesn’t, I’ll move away, never look back and won’t wonder what it could have been.

I know, this is all very melodramatic for me.  But, I am very close to getting a job offer pretty far away and Lucky and I have plans to skip town next summer for fresh start somewhere new.  I think I’m having anxiety about taking this job, even though I only plan on keeping it for 8 months, I was expecting to be at home until next summer and have some time to get things out of the way, the semi-relationship that needs to happen with HSC so I can get it out of my system once and for all, but I don’t want to move yet.  Hence the dream about HSC telling me, “Gizzy, it will NEVER happen if you take that job.”  But, I’m not going to not take an awesome job that will give me a little bit of experience just to see if things can get rolling with a guy who has chosen 2 fat ugly girls over me in the past.  Total foreshadowing into the dream. I know you want to hear it, so buckle your seat belt, here goes (from now on my dream sequences will be in green as it is quite difficult to distinguish my dreams from reality bruhahaha):

Lucky was home and we were boozin’ it up the night before the main scene of the dream takes place, we had gotten ourselves some tequila and Korbel (always classy.)  There wasn’t much going on the night we were boozin’ it up, just a flash of us sitting there with Korbel and tequila like big fat losers, honestly it was probably New Years Eve, but I have no idea.  To be quite honest I think it was the night before New Years Eve and this party you will read about in a minute was New Years Eve.

The next night rolls around and we have a big high school party to go to.  Obviously, this is a dream because Lucky and I wouldn’t go to a high school party now.  So we got ready, and for some reason I was putting my make up on like a weirdo.  I put lipstick on as eyeshadow and god knows what else, but it looked good.  Actually I looked better than I ever have in my whole entire life, but that’s beside the point.  No one puts lipstick on their eyelids, not even in dreams.  We grabbed our Korbel and our tequila and hit the road for the party.  I couldn’t tell you whose house the party was in or at.  Half of the people were in a room with a bar ripping shooters and the other half were in a different room sitting at tables and on couches and all that.

Lucky runs off with the tequila to take shooters at the bar and I wander into the other room (also would never happen in real life, Lucky and I wouldn’t leave each other’s side, no man left behind.) So I sit down and this girl, we’ll call her Meg, came up to me and was all, “GIZZY! OMG did you see who HSC is here with?” And I’m all, “WHAT!! HE’S HERE!!!? WITH A GIRL!?!!!? WHERE????” Not embarrassed at all that obviously everyone knows I heart him.   She pointed to where he was sitting, I cranked my neck and made it super obvious I was looking for him, “OH MY GOD! SUSIE?! HE’S HERE WITH SUSISE? HOW IN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN?” Susie from our school is a white trash ho.  Maybe not even a ho, but she is gross, ugly, fat, has a bad personality, and is known as a pathological liar.  Susie is her real name, and I won’t change it to protect her identity, actually Susie isn’t her real name, she changed it like our sophomore year in high school from Ashley, and told everyone “Susie” was her birth name and she was going by that now.  I think now she’s got some young ones running around and lives in a box or something.  IDK, clearly I still have bad feelings because she was at a party with HSC in my dream. AND by the way – HSC would never touch Susie with a 100 foot rod in real life.  I just have to keep telling myself that.

So anyway, Meg started telling me that Susie and HSC have been off and on for a few years and they’re off right now but talking again and how she won’t let him out of her sight yada yada yada.  So I sat in some rocking chairs with Meg and talked about what to do about this predicament for a while.   Here is another thing, Meg and I weren’t the greatest of friends in high school.  Lucky hated her with a passion and we did many eggings to her car, among other things.  So this is all just so bizzare.  Meg and I are sitting there watching HSC and Susie hold hands, laugh, and flirt together and every time they would get up to leave the room they would hold hands and it’s enough to make me want to puke right now typing it.

Lucky came in the room and we sat down on a couch, I told her what was up with HSC and Susie and the next thing we know HSC is getting up from him and Susie’s table and says he’ll be back.  Susie is all, “OH BABY! I’ll come with you.” (GAG!)  And he tells her no that he’s going alone and walks up to me doesn’t say a word and hugged me.  And I was like OMG! Freaking out and I’m pretty sure I was like, “Susie? Really?” And he pulled away from our hug and then I saw his face coming toward mine, in my head I was going OMG OMGOMG HE’S GOING TO KISS ME!!

And then I woke up.  Ok, so a dream kiss isn’t that big of a deal to most people, even though I don’t know if he really was going to kiss me, he could’ve been moving in to ralph on my face.  That’s the funny thing about dreams, you nevvvvveeer know what’s going to happen next.  (For example, say Greenville to Lucky and watch her shudder because of a dream a long long time ago, muhahaha.) But, remember I don’t have much recollection of the one other time HSC and I kissed back in high school.  So maybe if we had a dream kiss it would’ve been one of those things like on Armageddon when Bruce Willis pushes the button to blow up the meteor and has flashes of his whole life.  It would’ve been like my life from now to that night we kissed back in high school flashing back and then I would’ve seen the kiss from the night on spring break and remembered exactly how it happened.

Anyway,  I laid in bed for a good half hour trying to decipher what this dream really means.  Last night there was a charity party at a bar that a lot of people from high school were going to be at, I was going to go to with Gigi (some how she knows the guy that I went to high school with that was putting it on, small world) and I had even planned on texting high school crush on Thursday to ask him if he was going.  But my interview far away got in the way of it, and I never got to text him, and Gigi never called me to go to the party.  Also Lucky and I were discussing last night a party we attended in college that HSC was at, so that may have triggered it.  But, I mostly think it’s the job, I think I’m going to get this job and I’m going to take it so that I can move out of my parents house, and I’m going to move far away from high school crush and any chance that was there will go away and I’ll never know.

So, anyone who is like ze bomb at dream interpreting have at it.  I can even tell you what clothing we were wearing if anyone gives a shit lick.  I don’t know why I just said that, but I’m keeping it.

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CAT vs DDM the unhappy ending

Yesterday Lucky and I got into a heated battle with one of our readers via facebook.  Really, it made quite the entertaining day for the two of us but this guy, who we will call DDM, got his panties all in a bunch over it.  I would just like to add a side note for you readers out there who we love, which is every single one of you except DDM, yes, even you Dennis, we would never do this to any of you; mainly because you aren’t douchebags and you have a sense of humor, and that is why we love you.  HUGS!

Side note* All words that I (Gizzy) write will be in blue, Lucky will be in gray, and DDM will be in brown, the color of shit.

Backstory, who is DDM?:  DDM is a single, 40 something, latin, atheist, customer service rep for DOITT (dept of information technology and communications), wannabe tattoo artist, from Queens. {Sexy}

He has been a pain in our ass since the day he requested us on facebook.  Without further ado, I present to you: CAT vs DDM.

Lets start from the very beginning when I first became agitated with DDM, twas the evening of October 29th when I saw that we had a new facebook message that needed a response:

DDM: is there an actual blog or is it just facebook notes? No link on your fb page. (Yes there is, he’s just lazy.  And stupid.)

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Yes, there is an actual blog we just have it set up to automatically put up facebook notes. The web address is https://cocktailsattiffanys.wordpress.com/ Thanks for adding us 🙂

DDM: oh yeah, i re-found it and remembered why I forgot it- those balloons? the whole text on the left set up? is that a political statement? I’ll take the notes, lol.

Yeah, you take the notes douchebag.  This pissed me off because, #1 the balloons were there to celebrate our 100th post, faggot, everybody knows that.  #2 the left alignment is called a layout.  Political statement? Even if we were trying to make a political statement what in the fuckity fuck does that have to do with balloons and left alignment? I mean this guy is just an idiot.  But whatever, I let it go and didn’t reply.

The next incident occurred when he commented on Lucky’s pringle post on facebook a few days later:

DDM: 1. I’m starving too- did a cleanse and on the first day of fasting, I can rip a nun’s head off with a well placed tongue lashing right now… 2. No guys, no sex? Well it may help if you posted your picture somewhere guys could see it you might get some interested options.3. Do you hate on preggers because they’re bringing more followers into the world and because having a kid is the ultimate form of vanity like I do?

DDM: you should friend Melissa King for more content, lol

{Who in the fucking fuck is Melissa King? We aren’t friends}

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Well we would post our pictures DDM but we’re not real into finding dates on the internet, yet! We’re still trying to do it the old fashioned way and get to know someone in person/have the sparks and all that jazz. 
And we mostly hate on preggers/married people because we aren’t and we’re jealous. Kind of.
Thanks for the comment!! – Gizzy (Ed. note: See how fucking nice I was? When I could have easily said hey fuck off you fucking creeper why do you care what we look like? I mean clearly he was trying to date us, clearly. Thanks, but no thanks.)

DDM: my opinion (and historically supported) is in-person meeting and “courting” as it maybe, “getting to know” people for the purpose of dating- is an out of date practice, pun intended? Hormones, intentions, desires, carnal and otherwise impede honest research and retard development of anything destined for success. Usually this is something that can only be confirmed the morning after, if not after a few months, where as the “truth onion” as I like to call it, has a few of it’s layers removed under the guise of “it’s ok not to have to keep up the I’m perfect pretense”. As we know though, for some people, there is no time to drop that pretense, especially if the practice is to lie from the very beginning about who you are.

What? Anyone with access to some sort of decoding device, get to it, and let me know what the fuck this guy is rambling about.  We were talking about online dating and pregnant people right? Then he comes out with this “truth onion” and being true to yourself and talking about retards. This “truth onion” shit will never cease to kill me with laughter. I mean this guy is on crack, he needs to step away from the sharpies.  I just left it alone after that, because honestly where do you even start to address a comment like that other than telling the guy exactly what you think, that maybe he should start shopping for a looney bin.

The last and final incident began yesterday when DDM commented on Lucky’s  post about online dating where she asked at the end for you guys (our loving readers minus one DDM) to write in your questions for the L&G&Shy Guy advice column to which DDM comments via facebook.


with such lack of real insight, I vote no confidence on asking any life questions, sorry.

I deleted it.  Because, really douchebag? It was at this point when it came to me that this guy has no idea what our blog is about and doesn’t realize that it is a humor blog and that obviously the advice would be funny and that no one should be like, “Well my blogger friend told me to jump off the empire state building because he wants to put it in my butt, so I did.”  And here is where I give kudos to all of you for being intelligent people with excellent reading comprehension.  Kudos guys! DOUBLE HUGS!!! So yesterday, I’m ichatting with Lucky and telling her about the comment and that the next one he leaves (because we all know, there will be a next one) I am going to go off on him and spit some Gizzy fire.  Lucky knows that my “going off” will probably be way too nice so she decided to start a war that we will now and forever refer to as: CAT vs. DDM – The Exile.

I will say, I had absolutely no idea this shit was going on. Had I known sooner, this fucktard would’ve been knocked off a week ago. When Gizzy told me what was up, I just went off. Such is the luxury of hiding behind a fake name, location, and occupation.

First, she swamps his facebook page:

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Hey asshole! Why did you insist on friending us if all you want to do is insult our writing?

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: FAGGOT

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: too scared to show everyone what a fucking asshole you are?

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: no wonder you are single

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: thinks DDM is a complete dickhole and a beaner!

Of course I’m sitting at home reading these giggling like a little school girl because I never would’ve had the balls to do this but I am oh so glad Lucky does.  Shit really hit the fan when DDM got on facebook and like an idiot started to fight back (prepare yourselves for a novel):

Cocktails At Tiffanys: Hey asshole! Why did you insist on friending us if all you want to do is insult our writing?

DDM: wow the immaturity is insane with you isnt it? You put out the writing- take the critique- holy crap, unfriend me if you cant take it. I may giver you my opinion, but I dont go to your personal page and insut you- so who is coming off like an asshole self professed drunk bitch?!?!

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: I don’t give a shit what you think about our writing, that isn’t my point. My point is why you would waste your time reading our shit if all you want to do is hate on it. I don’t care if you think I’m an immature self-possessed drunk bitch. You’re a fucking dick.

DDM: contrary to popular belief- FB and WP are not simply for kissing each other’s asses. If you consider youself a writer- take the heat. i dont delete or lash back at anyone like you did just now. I respond and counter point- this what you are doing is completely immature and you discredit yourself

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: I’m not kissing your ass, I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.

DDM: God youre stupid or drunk? I’m referring to what you seem to expect of posting your writing- you WILL get criticism and comments that ARE NOT praise

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Yeah I’m drunk and stupid.

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Do you realize that there are two of us? And one of us actually is a professional writer? And that the blog is a humor blog? Or are you just too busy trying to come up with snarky comments that you completely missed the meaning of any of the content?

DDM: do you realize that if that is the case, how you reacted stupidly and attacked me on a personal level- when if you FEEL personally criticized, its because you wrote abt personal stuff- YOU put it out there- PEOPLE READ IT, oh my goodness what came back wasnt all praise and smoke up your ass, well thats life, boo hoo I am sorry. YOur pro writer friend will tell you- you dont lash out- you respond, there is a difference

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: We never asked for criticism on our writing or for anyone to critique it. We left it open for people to comment because we share our stories and wanted to hear the stories of others. All you have done is insulted the layout of our blog, told us we are stupid and that you wouldn’t be emailing us for advice because of our “lack of insight,” argued with us about our style of dating. In what way is any of that constructive? This is a humor blog, we aren’t trying to win writing awards or be published, it is a HUMOR blog (do you understand the meaning of humor?) It is meant to make people laugh. The hundreds of readers that visit our blog laugh and comment on daily and do not provide negative feedback, because it is A BLOG, we don’t discuss politics, race, or anything controversial for people to provide negative feedback about. We discuss our relationships and the daily happenings of our jobs, none of which you have constructively commented on. Just because you read it through the facebook page and you’re the only one who comments via facebook does not mean the blog is written solely for you and for you to insult. The professional writer is the one who lashed out at you, she has been published several times over and lashed out because this is our personal blog not a writing experiment. This comment here, and the one before this is from “the self proclaimed drunk.” So kindly, shut up and fuck off.

{At this point, I’m gasping for air laughing so hard}

DDM: now I remember- and I stand by it- with what you write it does not inspire confidence of any relevant or constructive help coming from you. Period. Don’t like it? Try and deal with it like an adult and a writer- not an immature child with a lack of self control and a mean streak.

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Because it is a HUMOR blog, how do you not fucking understand that? Our readers asked us to start an advice column for them to write in because they wanted us to give them HUMOROUS advice. Do you understand yet? Or are you just that fucking stupid? There is no lack of self control, you don’t know who we are, therefor we don’t give a flying fuck and can and will say whatever we want. You insulted our blog, you’re damned right we’re going to say something and stand up for it and ourselves. And please please tell us we are immature again because that is going to change how we act. That’s called sarcasm, hopefully you understand that better than humor.

DDM: Where’s the joke? Its a humor blog, so where is the comical response? Even that would have been better than the attack, and personal attack at that- that you seemed to think was an appropriate response to a comment from a nobody who reads your blog… You can’t support your argument or justify coming on my facebook page and attacking me. You just can’t. In this stream of back and forth messages, nothing. Nothing but contradiction. Both you, whoever is writing now, the less-than-professional “writer” and the non-professional writer- neither of you seem to get it. I made my point. Several in fact, but it seems youre of the typical female mentality that when your “feelings” are hurt, any response you make, even when way out of bounds, unprofessional, immature, raging, stalkerish and profane- is justifiable because aw poo-baby, little girl says it is.

Well it’s not. Unless the glass ceiling is justified {how is a glass ceiling justified, ever? I think he thinks the things he sees in his head are real.} and women should be held down because they can’t hack it in a man’s world, and you agree with that- then there is no excuse for the reaction you allowed yourself to have to a little itty bitty comment about your blog. I mean are you freaking serious? The rules don’t apply to you? If I reacted the way you did I would be called a psycho- and like I said, if men and women are equals, which I would like to think they are (your example aside), then you reacted like a complete psycho. I’m home chiilin’ and bam-bam-bam, 4, 5, text messages on my phone- blowing it up with insults and personal attacks- all because of a what? Three line comment saying eh, I’m not confident in your advice??? I had to stop what I was doing {playing video games and fondling his junk}, go to the PC and see who the hell was freaking out and how badly.

So which is it? Are you a stereotypical woman who got hysterical over nothing, and we have to excuse you for this apparent handicap and call what you did “excusable under the circumstances” because of your gender… or are you a mature person who lost their shit over nothing and big enough to say youre sorry?

I cant emphasize enough- how if I did what you did, I would be branded all sort of sick names- and I’d deserve it- so how is it you think you can go there?

do you knwo how well you would have come off had you simply said “hmm, too bad you think so” or engaged me as to why I feel that way? Do you realize how good it would have made you and your blog look if you simply took the overly emotionalism out of it and made me engage you in return, made me justify my comment? I might have ended up playing the gentleman and apologizing even, but this way- for-get-it.

{Somehow, I seriously DOUBT this mother fucker would have “played a gentleman” no matter what we would’ve said.}

You claim “humor” and yet- I see no Daniel Tosh-ish come-backs from you, something I could respect! All I see is rage and irrationality.

And I think everyone sees it.

It’s a shame. With every critical comment you have an opportunity to either learn about yourself and your writing, or the chance to teach someone else they are not doing a good enough job in interpreting your work- and you failed at both.

A chance to show me up, change my mind, blown. And what you have done, is only support the sentiment with which I did rather flippantly write that off handed statement.

So how does it feel? To know you acted a fool, embarrassed yourself, your blog, your gender even- on an off handed comment I sincerely didn’t even remember when confronted with your craziness?

In terms you might understand… isn’t it a bit like confronting a guy you slept with for not calling you back when you run into him some time later- and he says to you … “uhm, who are you again?”

I think even in my responses I’ve been ten times more sarcastic and humorous than you claim to be.

Maybe you should pay me, since I got THIS kind of reaction from YOU in just a few words through a comment- imagine what I could do as a columnist!


Have fun faux-justifying yourselves ladies. It’s never gonna be OK no matter how many Cocktails at Tiffany’s.

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Hahaha! Loving the fact that you took the precious minutes out of your day to write a god damn book for us DDM! Fuck, I love you so much right now!!!! Let’s make sweet love and have babies who will be shitty writers and piss off the world simultaneously. Ah, man.

You’re so right, there is no justification for coming onto your Facebook page and personally attacking you. why? Because I don’t need fucking justification!

Just for funsies, I’m curious, what’s a “poo-baby”? And why did you put the word feelings, in quotes?

I can’t tell you how fucking awesome it is that your phone was “bam-bam-bam” blowing up with three messages from two little females who are drunk and stupid. In our world, that’s called everyday life. And damn, that’s awesome that you don’t have a job. Can I get a baller?

And who is this “everyone” that you speak of that doesn’t think we’re Daniel Tosh? Guess what, fuck face? I don’t think daniel Tosh is funny, so whatever that means.

I don’t want to change your mind about us, because this shit, sir, is making my day! Loving it…keep the paragraphs coming! XOXO

DDM: The really funny thing is this response wreaks of back peddling in the face of realizing you went too far by getting racist. With only a few words of critical commentary on your blog you lost your shit, and no amount of LOL’s or XO’s are going to make you look any better than the racist scum you lowered yourself to be to try and get a rise out of me. If I can say anything about myself, it’s that it would take a lot more(obviously) to get a rise out of me than it does you, and when it happens, I wouldnt lower myself to using racist epithets in reference to those I debate with.

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Good for you, DDM.

Here was a different convo happening simultaneously, LOLZ, did I mention how much I LOOOOVE LUCKY!? Cause I do. {aw shucks!!!}

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: no wonder you are single

DDM: unlike you – I’m single by choice honey, if you read as much as you wrote, and then some, because your writing is quite lacking- then you might see that is the case

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: You don’t know me, faggot.

DDM: i dont claim to- IDIOT

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: You just claimed to know why I was single.

DDM: beats all you get racist on your Facebook page though. Proud of yourself I hope, the lows to which you’ll go as a person, as a woman, and disgracefully you call yourself a writer, all because of a negative comment on your blog.

And then there was this facebook chat that Lucky started with him too, oh it gets better guys, you just hold on to your britches…

Cocktails At Tiffany’s: Faggot

DDM: advice is advice, commentary is commentary, critique is critique- I prob commented, take a chill pill

you came to MY PAGE and insulted me?
thats like me reading the paper and going to the offices and spitting at the first person I see
do you KNOW how out of line you are?]
you could have simply unfriended me
had you done ANYTHING ELSE I would have wanted to keep reading your stuff
but this “angry bitch” kind of response, when one wasnt warranted at all- YOU WROTE AND MAKE IT POSSIBLE TO COMMENT
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: lol I just saw this comment from earlier
DDM: dude, learn to read “angry bitch” kind of response is referrential to the type of response- not to you personally.
Cocktail’s At Tiffany’s: i didn’t say anything about that
DDM: And no matter what- I didnt get racist
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: I never said you did
DDM: Talk abotu wrong on top of wrong
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: okay
DDM: i hope youre proud of yourself racist
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: haha
DDM: truly ugly
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: yeah
DDM: and i DID liek your blog actually, but youre an ugly person inside if this is how you behave
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: okay 

Thanks for the shoutout on your blog 🙂
DDM: no link
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: still, thanks!
DDM: yeah, and your welcome, I’m sure its the KIND of shout out you need, being exposed as irrational and racist
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: All press is good press, right? 

DDM: too bad one of us lost their dignity so soon in the game 

dont run for office, lol
that screenshot of your page will make me famous
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: for real, it just might! 

I think I should run, at least it would spice things up a bit
DDM: in fact, let me find out if your editors would like it 

i see why you dont post any pictures now, when you cant control your mouth abnd you get racist on people- good reason to protect your anonymity
Cocktails At Tiffany’s: it’s just because I’m ugly
DDM: you should have used your wit earlier- and kept the racism inside
So here I am slaving away at my new 9 to 5’er when I get a text from Lucky saying DDM reported us to facebook, wordpress, and posted like 10 links on his facebook page about how we are racist from every type of social network out there, they all said the exact same thing:

Racists at Cocktails at Tiffanys
What’s the appropriate response to a racial epithet? Because a person’s parents are Latin, is calling them a “beaner” any less offensive than the N word? I want to know what Latins, Latinos and Hispanics think of this, and in the meantime, go to an FB page for a blog called Cocktails at Tiffanys to see this kind of casually racist bigoted thinking in progress, they recently told me (after racially insulting me) any press is good press, so they wont mind your comments- They have a blog on WordPress too- but should they?

I mean really?! For the record, we aren’t racist.  And if Lucky hadn’t called him a beaner his psycho ass would’ve taken something else we said and ran with it. Honestly, I said beaner just to be an ass. I’m for realz NOT a racist! I thought it was funny…Which by the way, he has gotten 0 comments on.  But anyway, just to say we said it, we aren’t racist, regardless of the status that Lucky put on our facebook, “Home of the racists, just call us George Bush!” And of course he posted something on our wall about how we are racists and yada yada yada and we fought back and then he was all go away and I’m all uhhh you’re commenting on our page dude how about you take your own adivce and fuck off? But he didn’t he came back and told us to get a life, cause clearly we need to but he is the one that keeps coming back for more and is dead serious about it all so I finally told him to stop being a sexist pig because we would never apologize and adios senior (yes not racist, just funny to piss him off even more.) Because have you all noticed how many times he brought up that we are women, and stereotypical women, and psychos? This guy has issues with women REAL BAD.  I mean who cares, call us white trash cracker whores, we would laugh.  So not only did DDM not delete any of this from his facebook page, then he write a blog about it, allow me to paraphrase so he doesn’t sue us.

He starts out with a little intro about how bloggers should handle their commentary and yada yada yada he supports constructive criticism and would never lash out on a reader for giving him negative feedback blah blah blah.  Well we wouldn’t either, except that his feedback was insulting us and not feedback about our writing or the content. Then he rambles on for 2 paragraphs about how his lazy ass was sitting on his couch playing black ops all day long when his phone starts blowing up and how he thought it was because his “ex found the page he devoted to her after the breakup” …umm yeah.  I don’t even need to say anything except that we’re working on finding it.  Then he starts talking about how he made a comment and we raged on him and how he is a Seargent of his black ops video game and won’t take this kind of defamation in front of his digital troops.  Then he rambled on some more about COD and geeked out about his belly button lint.  Then he started in on how if he behaved like us how facebook would shut him down and he’d get called a stalker and a psycho, right because you clearly are, and you’re 40 something, and we’re 25 so um… yeah.  Then he ranted some more about COD and how we ruined his whole day of fun.  Then he says some more stuff like he has in the past that makes absolutely no sense, “In one of the responses I made the analogy that what they did is the equivalent of a person reading the newspaper and going to the offices of the paper and spitting on people in the office- it’s just way – way out of bounds.” I just don’t get at all how this relates to spitting on people in the office? This guy is such a wack job.  If we didn’t hate his every existence we would link the blog for your reading and laughing pleasure but we do, so we’re not.

So, have a great weekend everybody. If you read all this, you deserve a prize—although I will say it is fucking funny! We’ll try to stir up some more drama this weekend, maybe we’ll buy some ouija boards or something.
Oh and for the record the final score:
CAT (Cocktails At Tiffany’s, in case you’re slow) called DDM a beaner ONCE, DDM made sexist comments toward CAT 15 times.  CAT WINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Teen pregnancy is NOT a joke

I was paroozing around facebook last night minding my own business when my aunt facebook chats me and says, “Wanna know a secret?” Um DUH! She makes me swear up and down to all things holy that I won’t tell anyone because cats not outta the bag yet.  By this point my mind was really running wild, she lives in Orlando so at first I thought she was going to tell me she was coming for a surprise visit and needed me to pick her up at the airport.  But then she drops The Bomb.  W, my second cousin, is pregnant.

I’m sure most of you are thinking, BFD who gives a rats ass about their second cousins? This guy! My family is way too close and yes I am even close with my second cousins.  Let me do a breakdown of my family tree for you using letters, symbols, and deaf kids:

G&G (Grandma and Grandpa) had 4 kids – Aunt V, Aunt P, My mom, and Uncle L

Aunt V married Uncle T and had 3 kids – Cousin M, Cousin S, and Cousin D

Cousin M had 4 kids by 3 different dads and is pregnant with her fifth child by, you guessed it, a different dad. For those of you who aren’t mathematicians when she pops this one out that will be 5 kids with 4 baby daddy. The kids are-  2nd Cousin W, 2nd Cousin K, 2nd Cousin B, 2nd Cousin M, and now 2nd Cousin Fetus

Is this getting white trash enough for everyone? Because it gets worse.  But this is as far as we need to go because it’s this leg of the family that is completely effed up (as far as babies and baby daddy’s go, we’ll get into debt, drugs, and jail time with the rest of the family some other time.) Really I am like the prized possession of the family, in case anyone was wondering, a college graduate, no ex-husbands, no substance abuse problems, no jail time, manageable college debt, and most importantly no babies and no baby daddy’s, I’m like the golden fucking egg.  With a halo.

Back to the story, so my aunt tells me that 2nd Cousin W is preggers right? Yes Cousin M’s child, who is 17, and who has been with her boyfriend for 2 months, who has buck teeth and a shag hair cut.  I know this is confusing so let me put it as simply as possible, My cousin’s kids, are having kids.  That’s 2 extra generations my cousin made before I made 1.  I mean yes, she is like 9 years older than me, and I was like 8 when 2nd cousin W was born but still.  Let me break it down again from a different point of view, my mother is going to be a Great Great Aunt before she is a grandmother. So not only is 2nd Cousin W pregnant but her mother Cousin M is also pregnant and their due dates are two weeks apart.

Most people would be like OMG THIS IS SO WHITE TRASH I LOVE IT! BUT, it gets worse.  Because not only will these fetus’ be aunt/uncle and niece/nephew to one another and only be a few weeks apart (sooooo Father Of The Bride II isn’t it? No? Right! Because there were only 2 baby daddy’s involved in that sitch) but this is 2nd generation.  THAT’S RIGHT.  It’s happened before. Remember Cousin D, Cousin M’s little sister? Well when Aunt V was pregnant with Cousin D, Cousin M was pregnant with 2nd Cousin W, they’re a few months apart, but still the exact. same. situation.  This here is, yet again, what I like to call… full circle. That’s full fucking circle.

I’m also not a big fan of Cousin M because she is a bitch. So I have been laughing an evil laugh all night long, and then I went out and bought a pregnancy test and took it because, karma and toilet seat.

When Snoop-Linus and I broke up and it said, “Gizzy in no longer listed as ‘in a relationship'” on facebook, instead of reacting how normal people react and saying, “Ohhh I’m so sorry, you’ll be ok.”  She says AND I FUCKING QUOTE, “Smile.  Because I’m getting married again!!!” Bitch.

She does most of her bullying via facebook, my next status:

“Gizzy is setting up an excel spreadsheet for her bills.  Nerd alert.”

Cousin M: Glad to know those 10 years of college has taught u somethin!!!

You know what i have to say to that, HARDY FUCKING HAR with some big buck teeth college taught me simple grammar and how to spell YOU, goddamnit.

It was after this that I asked my mom to put me in anger management because I didn’t want to punch her in the face at the next family get together and upset grandma.  My mom told me not to worry, that Cousin M was simply jealous of my baggage free educated self and that The Sisters would take care of it.  Godddd do I love my mom’s sisters.

Sure enough Easter rolls around and here comes Cousin M with her new husband introducing everyone by simply saying “Hubby T this is Cousin Z, Cousin B, Cousin H, ohh and here’s Gizzy, the one who has been in college for like a decade.” I lunged forward at her with Ella’s snake cage that was loaded with a gardener snake screaming, “LISTEN HERE YOU CUN…” when Uncle L pulls me back and says, “Let them take care of it.” It’s at that time when I see The Sisters (my aunts) circling around Cousin M saying things like, “Why ya always picking on Gizzy? She’s doing something with herself other than popping out kids and marrying whatever comes along.  At least she went to college, unlike you.” ZING! Score one for Gizzy.  That’s exactly what I was going to say except that I was going to make my grandfather roll over in his grave and call her a CUNT in front of the whole family and my grandmother with her virgin ears.  Glad I didn’t have to.  That’s what’s up.

But, my family is like a small community.  We love to hate each other and we’re all so close we know errybody’s business and all gossip about each other, in a loving way.  And that’s exactly why I don’t tell anyone in my family jack shit.  In my grandmother’s eyes I am the holy grail of grandchildren, I’m up there with my grandfather and Jesus on her list of favorite people and I intend to stay there.  When I get to heaven me, Jesus, and my grandpa can form a club and call it Dotty’s Top 3, we might sing too, I don’t know though, don’t push it guys. But it does feel good to be an elite member of heaven’s society.

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