Tag Archives: eff my life

Monday

We’re baaaackkk!!  I know Lucky apologized for us sucking last week, but I’ll do it again.  SO SORRY!  I’m sure everyone was just so so upset that they didn’t get their fill of Lucky and Gizzy dramaz last week (because there’s always SO much of it). 

Well, let me just begin to tell you about the week from hell I had.  Let’s start with Monday…

I wake up late (pretty typical) run in the bathroom, flip the light switch (don’t notice that the light didn’t turn on), and start the shower.  I’m almost naked when I realize I’m in the dark and it’s Hurricane Katrinaing outside.  I paced back and forth for a good 15 minutes about the power being out before I realized I wouldn’t be able to get my car out of the garage, and wouldn’t be able to get to work.  Yes, I could have used public transhit, but seriously who wants to go stand outside in a monsoon and wait for a bus or hail a cab? Not this girl.  So I went to the garage to double check that I couldn’t get my car out before I called in to work.

So I call in, my boss doesn’t answer (also typical), I leave a frantic message about how I’m dying but that all should be right with the world by Tuesday and I’ll be back to work.  So by this time the monsoon was pretty much over and it was just raining. I laid down to try and go back to sleep when I heard my douche neighbor trying to open his garage door 50 million times.  Let me also say that the power wasn’t COMPLETELY out, it was like very low voltage, think horror film – dim flickering lights that make the bzzzzzzzzz noise because they’re like power surging.  Super freaky. 

So anyway, I hear my retarded neighbor trying to open his garage door, literally like 10 times.  The next thing I know it’s about 10 minutes later and there is pounding on the front door.  I go downstairs and it’s the fire department, telling me that my garage (with my car in it) is on fire and I need to evacuate (without a bra.) The convo literally went like this:

Hot Fireman:  You need to evacuate so we can put out the fire in your garage.

Gizzy: There’s a fire in my garage?

HF: You don’t smell the smoke?

Gizzy: *Snif*Snif* Oh, hmm.  Can I put a bra on first?

HF: There’s no time, get outside.

Thankfully I was smart enough to not put a bra on but take my purse downstairs with me, so I was able to walk to the coffee shop down the street to get some breakfast, also without my shoes, in the rain.

When I returned back from my breakfast where everyone thought I was homeless, the fire was out and the hottie firemen were checking out our outlets to make sure no other fires would start.  They also cut our power, so even when power was restored we still couldn’t have life’s little pleasures like A/C, tv, or a way to get my torched car out of the garage so I could drive it off a cliff and get rid of it once and for all.

Luckily, one of the coffee shop workers had the same phone as me and allowed me to use his phone charger while I ate so I could have SOME connection to the outside world. 

After the fire department left I laid in bed, in the 96 degree heat, painted my nails, organized my room, and eventually laid out on the roof when the sun came out.  All while on the phone with insurance claims departments (for the car accident, the fire, and my lame accident prone life.)

*Side note: The investigators determined the cause of the fire was from the motor on my neighbors garage door when he was retardedly trying to open it for 2 hours non-stop.  Hooray!

Apparently, when you file a claim with your insurance company regarding a fire they take it upon themselves to let their life insurance department know and belittle you into thinking your existence is only hurting you, and mankind.

Life Insurance Bitch: Hello Gizzy, we were recently made aware of the fire in your home, I am so sorry to hear about this horrible tragedy, but you are now aware of the surprises life can bring upon you in an instant.  Could you imagine if you had been badly harmed or even suffered from death? How would your family have gone on without you, both emotionally and financially?

Gizzy: Um, yeah, they’d be ok.

LIB: I think you are underestimating the things you bring to the table for your growing family.  How would they have paid the mortgage, the bills, for your funeral? How would your children go to college?

Gizzy: My children? I don’t have kids lady. 

LIB: What about little Gizzy, and little Ella.

*It was at this point that I realized this lady thought I was my mom, and that our house caught on fire.  Clearly the other bastards didn’t tell her I was inquiring about a renter’s insurance claim.  MWHAAA*

Gizzy:  I’ll haunt those little betches.

*Silence*

*Click*

So at that point I was literally going crazy, not to mention I was finally getting calls that day from the insurance companies about the car accident that happened almost 3 weeks ago. 

It seems as though homegirl that I got in the accident with got word that I was filing a claim against her with her insurance company (Duh! Because it was her fault) and decided to try and one up me and file a claim with my insurance company saying it was my fault.  Of course her insurance company finally took liability on it on Friday – because look it up slutski, you were pulling out of a parking spot it’s your fault 100% of the time! Even if I was doing lines of crack off the dashboard while driving, still your fault.  Ugh! People.   

So that was Monday…

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I’m not NFL wife material.

I tell you what.  The forces are really trying to keep me from you all these days.  I’m too chicken to get on The Blog at work, for obvious reasons.  No one at my office can know I have an actual personality.  And back at the ol’ dungeon, well, our internet has been down more than it has been up since I moved to the big city, and Anth, our self-proclaimed tech-ie, isn’t doing jack shit to get us up and running.  Yeah, he ordered us a new router and hooked it up, but he is the only one who can get online – so that’s awesome.  Basically this blog is brought to you via a McDonalds parking lot at 6:30 in the morning.  And by god is it worth it.  Nothin’ like enjoying a little bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, a lil bit o hash brown, some oj, and a nice bloggity blog about my weekend.

Really though, going M.I.A. for a week or so every so often isn’t the worst thing in the world.  In my head everyone is sitting in front of their computers hitting the refresh button just waiting for an update on my fascinating life.

Anyway on to the good stuff, my weekend was quite eventful; I went on a blind date with an NFL player.  That’s right, the normal cheating lying bastards aren’t good enough.  Now, I have to date people who even the Virgin Mary herself would sleep with if given the chance.

It was more of a blind do your friend a favor so it’s not totally awkward and I have an escape plan if this goes terribly wrong double date.  My friend Celia was asked on a date by a guy she went to high school with and some how I got roped into it because she didn’t want to go alone and who better to set The Gizzy up with to really teach her a life lesson than an arrogant 23 year old NFL player who has been around the block.  Twice.

The adventure started out seemingly normal.  We downed your standard 2-3 bottles of wine ate some pasta and some steak then I threw up a little in my mouth when I realized where our dinner conversation had gone.  It went something like so…

NFL: So, Gizzy what do you do?

G: I work with research foundations, what about you?

NFL: I play in the NFL.

G: Oh, that’s nice.

NFL: Yeah, I only live here a few months out of the year.  Do you like football?

G: Not really.

NFL: What sports do you like?

G: I guess basketball.

NFL: Oh speaking of basketball, a few weeks ago I hooked up with Big City Butts Star Player’s fiancé.  It was so funny.  ‘Cause then, Big City Butts Star player called me up and was like, “Hey man wtf I’m going to come kick your ass.” And I was like, “Man I can take you, here’s my address, my door’s unlocked for you bro.”  Pretty much the funniest day ever.

G: Sounds like it.

I’m guessing the date was pretty much over when I said I didn’t like football.  I checked out after this point and just made it my mission to get as drunk as possible courtesy of this guy.

After dinner I had a decent buzz when they said we were going to go by one of their friend’s places to drink a few beers before we went to the club.  Fine by me.  The more booze the better.  Bring it onnnn!! I was planning on testing how much alcohol I could drink before getting embarrassing.  El experimente!

We were finishing up a game of pool when Celia pulled me aside:

C: OMG! Did you hear them talking about doing Molly? (For those of you who don’t know Molly is ecstasy but some kind of pure/supped up version from what I’ve heard.)

G: NOOO!!! Do you think they did it?

C: I don’t know, they went in the room for a while with the door closed.  If they did let’s get out of here.

G: How do we tell? Do the pupils get bigger or smaller?

C: Bigger.

G: Ok you distract them I’ll look at their pupils.

If the date wasn’t already headed for the dumps the next plan of attack would have for sure ruined any kind of connection I had with this guy.

Celia pulled them over and asked them to look to see if her retainer was still stuck to her teeth.  Alas, their eyes were focused.  3 heads trying to look into 1 person’s mouth is not an ideal situation.  Basically they thought I was like the weirdest person ever because while they were looking in Celia’s mouth I was positioning myself so that I could stare perfectly into their eyes and see if I saw any crazy.  Thank god I did not, at least not the kind we were looking for.

When it came time to head to the cluuurbb… Celia and I were both pretty much over it.  NFL was getting recognized by tons of skanks so he had his night pretty much set, Celia’s guy was creepily feeling up on her, so mission get drunk was in full force.  After half a dozen shots we went to the ladies room to re-group.   We decided it was time for a little dinner-drinking date ditch.  That’s right.  We walked out of the bathroom and got straight into a cab, after Celia fell in the middle of the street bringing tons of attention to us, of course.  So there was no awkward goodbye or the pity exchanging of the numbers between NFL and I.  I can’t say it didn’t feel amazing to ditch an asshole that gets whom and whatever he wants and then talks down to people who aren’t ripping their panties off at the sight of him because it totally did.

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