Tag Archives: doctors

Dr. Mike and the half lesbian

Ahhh, another weekend in paradise has come and gone.  And it was a drunken one.  I had my awesome baseball tickets this past weekend that I ended up taking Anth to since Mike is married, he’ll now be known as married Mike as there is a new Mike in the picture! But, we’ll get to that later.

I was excited for the baseball game not because of the free booze, awesome seats, free food or even the chance to mingle with famous baseball players and the city’s socialites I was excited to meet my co-workers boyfriend.  There’s one girl in my office who is 28 (unfortunately she was sick the day I needed the tampon) and I just can’t get a feel for her.  She seems nice and kind of awkward, she talks like a valley girl, but wears tennis shoes and hoodies to work (see: not business professional/appropriate) some days it looks like she’s showered and some days it doesn’t.  When I first started I thought we would become close friends since we are the only 2 people in our department under 50, but that hasn’t happened.  When she told me she was given tickets to the game and her seats were right next to mine and that she was bringing her boyfriend I knew this was my chance to finally figure this chick out.  I was expecting her beau to be a geek but I was oh so wrong.

Let me paint a picture of this guy for you:

Except not Russell Brand, not hot, greasy hair, and a 5 o’clock shadow that had to of taken him 6 months to grow, not to mention the high pitched voice.  I shouldn’t judge though, the guy was really nice and they were all over each other, which is something I don’t have, so I’m the ass.  

It’s whatever though, Anth and I drank each other under the table came home at 8:30 where I went to bed and Anth proceeded to go out and pick up the first random chick he could.  I heard them come in the door not an hour after he left and the next morning I wandered upstairs to make it awkward.  If I have to say if anything is fun about living with guys it is simply making random skanks they bring home feel awkward in the morning.  99% of them hide their faces and don’t want to meet me because they know they’re whores.  This girl was different, she wanted to be my best friend, she even made us all breakfast.  Just when I was starting to wonder why Anth was sending me BBMs that he wished the girl would leave and about how she wouldn’t even make out with him (that’s called smart if you ask me) because I thought the girl was great she made the comment of all comments.  I don’t recall what we were watching on tv but some how lesbians were brought up and the girl went off on a tangent about how just because she likes lesbian porn doesn’t make her a lesbian, and just because she wouldn’t mind a girl doing stuff to her she doesn’t want to do anything to a girl and that doesn’t make her a lesbian either.  Ummm, yeah…I think it does hooking up with girls and not hooking up with guys=lesbian.  She was young so we argued with her about it, we told her maybe she was bi-sexual, but no no that’s not the case.  Finally she agreed that maybe she’s a half lesbian.  At that point I just said the thing that was on everyone else’s mind, “Can I call you a cab or something?” And she left.  Hoorah!

After the weekend it was back to boring for me until yesterday when I got a visitor in my office, you would have thought the guy was carrying a dozen roses and a diamond ring in his pocket the way I lit up.  I am a financial advisor of sorts for doctors who do research, so it’s not weird to have a doctor come visit me or call me up to talk about their research.  Typically they are old enough to be my grandfather or don’t speak a lick of english, but THIS guy was H-O-T and can’t be a day over 30.  He gave me his number “for work purposes” and told me to “contact him frequently” about his spending.  OOOK!  His name is Mike, but I’ll call him Dr. Mike.  Just so everyone doesn’t get excited about anything that could potentially happen with Dr. Mike, I’m 99% sure I’m setting myself up to get let down again, Dr. Mike had nicely ironed clothes as well.  The day I see a guy walk through my door with a wrinkled shirt and wrinkled pants I’ll know he’s my guy.  I mean my roommates don’t iron their clothes so it’s a safe assumption that all single men under the age of 30 don’t, am I right or am I right?  Plus how can a hot doctor not be snatched up yet? The odds are against me.

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GIZZY HAS BEEN RESURRECTED

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:

Me: GOD!!! ALL THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR FUCKING BABIES!! BABIES, FUCK!

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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