Tag Archives: crazy

I didn’t order any crazy this weekend

While we’re on the subject of ex-boyfriends and how much they are life-ruiners, I too had a blast from the past this weekend.  Unfortunately, mine wasn’t in a nightmare… it was in real life.

Friday night after work I went out for dinner and drinks with the ole crew.  JM and his girlfriend were in town and made me feel obligated to hang out with them at least once since I wouldn’t be participating in the St. Patty’s day festivities.  So I did, we got a little sauced and came home at 10:30 and I went to bed.

At 1:30 I was woken up by a call from a number not programed in my phone.  Since I was half drunk and still asleep it took me a good 10 minutes of staring at the number to figure out who it was.  Snoop-Linus.

You see, a few weeks ago I got a text from this same number: “Hey it’s Snoop-Linus, my phone got stolen and I wanted you to have my new #.  Hope all is well.  Would love to catch up sometime.”

Of course I didn’t reply, I didn’t save the number, and I didn’t feel anything.  It was more of an annoyance if anything.  Each time I hear from this kid it makes me more happy than the last that I’m not with him.  Seriously? You are 25 years old, how does your phone get stolen? I’ll tell you how, you’re high on drugs and wasted out of your mind at some stupid club and can’t keep track of your shit.  Not sad I wasn’t there. Get a life and stay out of mine.

So, when he called he didn’t leave a message.  But no one calls their ex-girlfriend that they haven’t spoken to in 6 months at 1:30 in the morning unless they are shitfaced.  Even though he didn’t leave some drunk tard voicemail this phone call really pissed me the fuck off.  Like hey dude, what’s it going to take for you to realize I want nothing to do with you? I’ve told you, multiple times.  I’ve also asked multiple times that you leave me alone, I hate you and fuck off. But mostly I was pissed because it woke me up out of a good drunken sleep.

So then comes Saturday night.  Typically when Snoop-Linus drunk dials me he’ll send a text in the morning apologizing and saying he hopes all is well yada yada yada [insert fake bullshit].  Which makes me hate him even more, how many apologetic texts does someone have to send before they say enough is enough, get embarrassed, and delete the number out of their phone? Christ!

Anyway, I didn’t get an apologetic text on Saturday.  Instead, Sunday morning I woke up to an obvious drunk text from him that was sent at 4am: “Really need someone to talk to if you’re up.” Tell me this.  Why would I be up at 4am you fucking douche? I don’t care if you need someone to talk to.  I don’t care if your dog is dying, I don’t care if you got into a car accident, I don’t care if you used your one phone call from jail Friday night to call me. I DON’T CARE.  You would think 6 months of not responding to phone calls and texts would reiterate the fact that I don’t care about him but it doesn’t and that’s why I’m frustrated.

I want him to leave me alone.  Him calling and texting is no sweat off my back because I’m not ever tempted to answer it or text back, but I just worry about my dating future.  I don’t want to be lying in bed with a boyfriend to be and still have my ex drunk dialing me because he’s an idiot, that’s certainly something that I could see becoming an issue in a future relationship if it continues.

So what are my possible solutions here? Lucky suggested changing my number which I have thought about several times in the past, but I’ve got about 10 job applications out there with my current number on them so I feel like that’s not really an option at the moment.

Anth suggested getting his number blocked, which would work if Snoop-Linus wasn’t such an idiot and didn’t lose his phone all the time and keep having to get new numbers.  With AT&T you have to pay $5 a month for each number you want to have blocked so I’m not really down with paying an extra $25 a month to get every number of his blocked.

So what else can I do? Suggestions?

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Chello kids.  In case anyone was wondering, Anth and the girl that stood him up rescheduled their date for Friday – so no funny stories to report on that mess, BLAST!


Today I need to discuss a serious issue.  Whore houses.  I’m pretty sure my neighbor is running one, and the right and left sides of my brain are having an all out civil war trying to figure out what to do about it. 


When I moved in with the boys last February they sent out an email to all of their friends inviting them to our super bowl party, and when they described how to get to our townhome in all seriousness they said:  “1234 Main Street Unit 5, 2 doors down from the whore house.”  I guess people were supposed to be like, “Hrmm… Main street… hmm… where is that?  OH the whore house, ok got it.”  At the time, I had only been living there for 2 weeks so I didn’t know what whore house they were referring to or if they were secretly talking about me in code with 35 of their closes friends while I was CC’d on the email, so I just left it alone.


Let me first say, our neighborhood has been described as “Posh” by the British man Betty forced me to bring home.  Our house is not posh, but the neighborhood is.  And for those of you that don’t speak British, that means nice.  So to me, it was rather unlikely that there would be an actual whore house on our block so all talk of the whore house the first 5 months I lived there got filed away in my brain.


When summer rolled around I started to notice random whorish looking girls hanging around outside of the condo 2 doors down looking like they had nowhere to be but on their backs. I took that and the comments with a grain of salt since I had never seen the person that lived in the apartment.  One night, I’m getting myself all tucked into bed around midnight when I heard someone right outside my door saying, “Marcy…Marcy…Marcyyyyyyyyyyyyy I need youuuu!!”  This was when I lived in the dungeon so I wasn’t about to flip on the light and find some cray cray staring in the window at me.  In the morning JM had told me he heard it too and was looking out his window and eventually saw the person go in the Whore House.   That was enough justification for me to believe it was actually a whore house.


Later that day I googled, “1234 Main Street Whore House” and found, “Marcy, PhD, Sex Addiction Psychiatrist -1234 Main Street Unit 3” AND “Barry’s Salon and Massage Parlor –  A Happy Ending Massage 1235 Main Street”  So I don’t know, this is either really smart or really mean on Marcy PhD’s part, but it explained a lot.


Apparently at the following home owners association meeting someone filed a complaint that Marcy PhD’s coo-coo birds were littering in the courtyard and you know having a business out of her home was illegal in the association, but they’d look past it as long as the crazies kept their condoms and their cigs off of the lawn.  Fair enough, right?


Everything was all good in the hood until last night when I heard that familiar song, “Marccccyy…. Marcyyy… I need you!!”  Now that I don’t live in the dungeon I had no problem flipping on my light and sticking my head out the window to see what all the commotion was about.  And when I did, I saw a full grown man, I kid you not, dressed in women’s lingerie.  I get that I live in a big city and I do live near the neighborhood that houses all of the gay bars and some of those gay bars have drag shows so I shouldn’t really be surprised to see a man walking around in lingerie.  Except that it was snowing, and it was 4am and we are a good mile from said bars, and he was barefoot, but you know I probably still shouldn’t be surprised because I’ve seen weirder things in my life.   It was a hard argument for me to not call the cops at 4am on this wackadoo, but I thought… you know Marcy PhD is doing a good thing, she’s trying to help these crazies out and if this guy goes to jail it’s not going to help his disease to get gang banged in the butt all night.  Plus, I don’t want Marcy PhD to get kicked out of the association; I need her to stay there in case I ever get addicted to sex.  Right? It’s a reasonable worry for someone who is 18 months celibate.   


And then he reached around into his little knapsack on his back and I thought, “Oh good, he’s going to put some clothes on.  I did the right thing not calling the cops.” And he pulled out a big giant black dildo.  Christ.  There are children in this neighborhood! The children man!!  Honestly, this was so cray cray I could’ve been dreaming, I’m still having a hard time believing I actually saw this happen.  I just couldn’t watch anymore, I turned on my fan to drown out whatever noises he would surely be making and went to bed.  This morning I saw trace amounts of red lace strewn about the lawn, I never heard the cops show up so I really don’t care to know what else happened outside my window last night. 

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So because I am crazy stressed and feel like this monkey looks:

I am going to opt out of rambling about how much my life sucks today.  It’s like I know you guys know it sucks, and you know you guys know it sucks, and you know I know you guys know it sucks, but I continue to ramble about it every day. So, I’m going to shut my pie hole, get back to work so I can go home before midnight, and leave you with this lovely gem to curb everyone’s frickin baby fever…

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Anth’s breakup story

Something is seriously wrong with me.  It’s 1:15 in the morning and I can’t sleep, yet come tomorrow morning I’m going to feel like the biggest narco monster ever when I can’t get up for the life of me.  I looked this up, it’s a legitimate sleeping disorder…it’s called DSPS (delayed sleep phase syndrome) and effects 3 out of 2000 and is called an invisible disability.  How does it make you guys feel to be reading the blog of a disabled person? It doesn’t make me feel good to be disabled, but I’m not going to take drugs to fix it just because wikipedia tells me my circadian cycle is off.  My cycles are fine, ok wikipedia! 

So last night one of THE FUNNIEST THINGS EVER happened.  The past few weeks/last month Anth has kind of been dating this girl (they’ve hung out like 3 times), we’ll call her Schmanna, and this past weekend he decided to take her to his co-workers wedding.  They stayed at her friend’s apartment near the reception hall, he told me he was pretty sure that he fell asleep on top of the girl mid-hookup because she kept saying – “You don’t REALLY think we’re going to hookup in my friend’s guest room do you?” Apparently this killed his hard on and I guess that just instantly means sleep? 

He told me she was kind of weird and way into him and he didn’t know about all that.  He also told me that they hadn’t done it yet, “Because her mom told her she needs to make guys wait.” To which I said, “How old is this girl?” he said 27 or 28 and I said, “Uhh yeah, she sounds weird.”  And he got all defensive asking how her age made her weird.  I said, “Umm because any 27 or 28 year old girl isn’t going to tell the guy she likes they can’t sleep together because her mommy told her not to.  She’s going to say they can’t sleep together because she wants to get to know him better/wants him to repsect her/doesn’t want him to use her for sex aka hump and dump, she’s not going to say because my mom said so.” Anth retorted that “It wasn’t like her mom told him not to sleep with him specifically right off the bat, just guys in general and who did I learn not to be a whore from?  My mom.”   Which is totally not the case, and I don’t think it is for most women.  You learn not to be a whore by watching other girls be whores and get treated like shit, not because your mom sits you down at 16 and says, “Make guys wait. Don’t be a whore.”  He’s so stupid.  And I said, “Yes, it is weird that she would tell YOU that, but if you like her enough to defend her against ME then maybe you should fucking date her.  ASS.”  I immediately changed the subject to how excited I was for the 90 minute Teen Mom, I knew I was right and didn’t want to listen to him defend some girl who can’t make judgement calls for herself at 27.   

He was telling me the next night that he just didn’t really like her because he should just be more into it than he is.  Which is convienently what he says about every single girl he dates.  Personally, I think it’s because he is still stuck on his ex that dumped him like 4 years ago, because he still talks about her on the reg but does not talk TO her and claims he sees her all over the city.   But I just nod and agree and say, “You’ll find the right one someday!”

Anyway, when I got home from work yesterday Anth started telling me about how Schmanna told him to let her know if he needed some company to watch Jersey Shore (clearly he has not told this girl that Jerzday is a weekly holiday in our household and that all the roomies would be in attendance).  So he replied lying to her, telling her that he was going to DVR it because he was working and in the zone.  Then, she asked if he wanted to do something this weekend, we’ve got a stage 5 clinger on our hands! I mean this was like the 10th time Anth had denied the girl a hang out just this week. 

He told her he was booked up for the weekend, which was another lie, and she replied asking him if she did something to piss him off.  He wanted to just ignore her until she got the hint that he didn’t like her, but against his better judgement he took my advice when I screamed at him, “NO! FOR WOMAN KIND YOU NEED TO TELL THIS GIRL YOU WANT TO JUST BE FRIENDS!!!! You’ve been on 3 dates and it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”  He told me that he didn’t know about that because it would be really mean since he had just taken her to that wedding.   He thought telling her that he wanted to just be friends because he didn’t like her would be like saying, “Hey thanks for coming but I had a horrible time and you suck.”  To which I replied, “You know, soemtimes that happens but at least then she knows she needs to work on some things.  Like spreading her legs.”

So he replied telling her that no she didn’t do anything to piss him off, but he thought they should just be friends.   She called him, he ignored it, she sent a text asking if he could talk for 2 minutes, he said yeah he’d call her back later but he was working.  And she was all desperate saying, please don’t leave me hanging here I thought everything was great, you didn’t even give me a fair chance, we were always drunk you don’t even really know me, lets do something this weekend and you’ll see… blah blah blah.

Hearing this pretty much nausiated me, because why do girls try to fucking bargain with guys and sell themselves when the guy doesn’t want them?  I am guilty of it too, I’ve defintiely done it before with long term boyfriends, never a guy I only hung out with 3 times… but that’s past Gizzy.  NEW Gizzy wouldn’t respond and wouldn’t need to hear a reason why.

So eventually he called her back, I was downstairs getting my tacos ready for Jersey Shore, and Anth bolts down the stairs saying, “MAN! I wish you could’ve heard that convo, that shit was BRUTAL, she just kept saying that same thing over and over and I had to have a 30 minute long breakup talk with a girl I hung out with 3 times.”

I snort and say, “WHAT A CRAZY!!! Time for some Jersey Shore!!!” Then he looks at his phone and sees that she’s still on the line.

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Sympathy card or booty call?

About four years ago, I was dating a guy (imagine that). We had just started seriously dating and I had an event to go to…I needed a “+1.” My problem was, he was going to be out of town on business the same weekend as the event.


So, he said it would be okay if I asked someone else to join me. I decided to ask my guy friend Sam. We had been friends for awhile and he was fun; we’d gone to an event like this before, no pressure. So, I asked Sam’s roommate if he thought Sam would be interested in joining me. He said, of course, and I said I wanted to ask him to the event in a fun way (like prom in high school). So the roomie gave me a key and said, do what you want.

My roommate and I blew up some balloons and put them in his room, along with a poster that was asking him to the event. I was pretty excited at how cute it looked and couldn’t wait for Sam to get home and see it.

Well, the hours passed and I heard nothing. The next day, I ran into Sam’s roommate at the mall. I asked him what the deal was and he said he didn’t know. The deal was, I was being blown off, by someone I thought was my friend. Since I was writing for the school paper at the time, I used that as an outlet to publicly bash Sam for being a coward—I wanted him to at least tell me no.

Years passed and I never heard from him. I ran into him several times during my blooming career as a bartender, but just acted like I didn’t know him. But last week, he caught me on Facebook chat.


He asked me all the usual questions—how have you been, where are you living, what job are you at now? etc…until he said: “When are you cooking me dinner? I’ll bring the wine.”

“Smooth,” I said, to which he responded, “Yeah, just like in college.”


“Yeah, until you rejected me.” I said.

“Well, you got me back with that column,” he replied.

He went on to tell me that he wanted to apologize for rejecting me, blaming his actions on being a “scared little boy.” What-the-eff-ever. Then, he tells me that he even took pictures of what we did to his room; he liked it. WEIRD. I said, okay so you liked it, but still rejected me? Then, he told me he even kept the column I wrote about him…what the hell? Does he have a damn scrapbook? THEN, he tells me he wants to buy me a drink to make up for it.


I love alcohol. And it’s not like I’m sitting over here with a list of people to kill, Billy Madison style or anything. But I just don’t want to get into all of that. It’s been years, I don’t care anymore, we’ve obviously both moved on, so whatever. But being me, I figured his invitation for a drink was one of those invites you know will never happen, so I said sure. To which he says, “after all, you were my first date in college.” WHAT?!

The conversation was pretty much left at that. I couldn’t handle the weirdness any longer.

Sadly, a few days later, Sam’s mother went in the hospital for open heart surgery and passed away less than a week afterward. For me, death surpasses any other drama, so I sent him a text message saying how sorry I was for his loss and to let me know if there was anything I could do for him.

I should have mentioned that I didn’t mean a booty call.

He said thanks. And left it at that. Until yesterday.

Around 7:45 am, on my drive to work, he sends me a message asking me if I would like to hang out this week. “Hanging out” and getting a drink are two different things. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I’m alone with him, on his couch, or otherwise and he’s trying to put the moves on. In a public place? Eh, okay. So I say sure.

He says, “Well I took off work this week…for obvious reasons. So just let me know.” Well damn. I honestly didn’t want to waste a night of relaxation for wriggling out of someone’s death grip, so I threw out Tuesday night—a night I hang out at a local bar & grill with my friends. I wrote him back saying my friends and I hang out there every Tuesday from 5 until whenever, so he was welcome to join. I figured it was nice enough, he wouldn’t be spending his evening alone, and could enjoy some food and drink. He said, okay cool. Awesome, everyone wins.

Or so I thought.

I didn’t hear from him again yesterday, but I wake up this morning to my text message buzz—6:31 am Sam: You should’ve come cuddle with me last night.


I didn’t know what to say, and probably should’ve just said nothing. But this blew my fucking mind. We haven’t talked or hung out, much less seen each other in four years and he’s saying we should’ve “cuddled” last night? Yes, I know, I’m single, what do I have to lose? A night of decent sleep in my own bed, dammit! Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I’m easy and looking to bed hop. So I reply with, “I should’ve gone to bed earlier,” Alluding to be being tired as fuck (thank you, nightmares of my ex having sex with other women). His reply?



I stuck it out and didn’t reply to that. I am willing to try and cheer someone up or be there for them during a moment of loss. I am not, however, willing to “cuddle” with basically a random person just for funsies.

Here’s to hoping he doesn’t show up tonight.

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