Tag Archives: exercise

I solemnly swear to never walk alone again

Lately I’ve been trying to make an effort to make myself not be so miserable in the big city.  I’ve applied for several jobs and gotten no phone calls for interviews, so as much as I don’t want to admit it – I may be stuck here for a while.  I thought maybe I should try to embrace the city and figure out a way to make it work until someone decides to throw a new job at me.

It’s been unseasonably warm the past few weeks so yesterday I decided that after I got home from work I would walk to Target to get a few things I needed.  I could get some exercise while enjoying the nice weather and get my errands done, why not kill 2 birds with 1 stone? With that being said, yesterday will probably be the first and last time I walk anywhere that’s more than a block or two away.

The area that I live in isn’t the best, but it’s not bad by any means.  There are some sketchy blocks here and there where there is some low-income housing, but I didn’t think it would be a big deal.

On my way to Target it wasn’t so bad, it was still daylight and yes all the hood rats were outside on the sidewalks most of them didn’t bat an eye when I walked by.  After I passed one group and got a pretty good distance away, I heard one of the women yelling at me, “Hey pink! Hey pink come back here! Hey girl, hey why don’t you come back here?” I knew she was talking about me because the word PINK was plastered across my ass.  I didn’t turn around, I didn’t know what she wanted and I definitely didn’t want to find out.

I probably could have avoided that happening at all if I had thought it out a little more.  Note to self: Don’t wear name brand clothing or bring your faux Jimmy Choo along for the walk through the hood.

So I made it to Target, got everything I wanted and decided to walk to the bookstore to get a new Nicholas Sparks book (Lucky gave me The Lucky One to read and now I’m hooked). So after the book store I was headed home, it was dark out but you know the big city has lots of lights so I didn’t feel like I was going to get murdered in an alley or anything or that it was unsafe to walk by myself.

As I was walking by this abandoned building/parking lot I noticed man probably in his mid forties wandering around the parking lot aimlessly.  It was a little weird because he definitely didn’t seem like he was walking because he was going somewhere.  I got to a cross walk and stopped but I could see him stumbling toward me out of the corner of my eye.  I positioned myself so that if he came up to the corner I would be facing him and not have my back turned to him.  Better to be safe than sorry.  I was hoping the light would change and I could scurry across the street before the guy reached the corner, but of course that didn’t happen.

The man made it to the corner and I got a better look at him, he was heavy-set – probably like 250 pounds at least and wasn’t much taller than me, he couldn’t have been more than 5’8”.  But then, the guy kept walking and got super close to me, like right in my face.  Literally like 6 inches away and I could just smell his nasty breath.  He was missing most of his teeth and his eyes looked freaking cray cray.  [Insert Gizzy crapping her pants.]

The intersection we were at is pretty busy, so I’d like to hope that if I screamed or if the guy tried to attack me and people saw me struggling someone would get out of their car and help.  But who knows, it’s the big city and people are assholes.  What I was more afraid of was that the guy was just going to pull out a gun and shoot me in the stomach.  But instead, he was right in my face and said, “I know you.” After he talked I could tell he definitely wasn’t all there, he was either super wasted or semi-retarded, maybe both.  So I backed away, and said, “Um, NO.. you don’t.”  Then he got in my face again, “Yes. I do.” Then he just kept staring at me from inches away and every time I backed away he got right up in my face again.  Seriously, this was the longest damn stoplight of my life.

So then I had backed up as far as I could and I was up against the guard rail on the sidewalk and the guy said, “I’m just going across the street. Come with me.” I screamed, “NO!” and still had nowhere to go. Just in time this guy running stopped at the cross walk and came over and asked if he could walk me across the street.  I said “THANK GOD! YES!” Then the light changed and we started walking, the old fat man followed us but he was slow so I didn’t think he’d be able to catch up again unless I stopped.  The guy asked if I’d be ok to walk alone and I said yes that I didn’t live far and I was just going to run the rest of it with my shopping bags in tow to make sure I got far far away from that weirdo.

So I made it home, thankfully.  But I think from now on I’ll be driving wherever I need to go.

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It’s on like donkey kong…with high school crush.

First things first, I want to say how upset I am with Lucky for making me upset that my real life isn’t like a Tommy Hilfiger commercial.  I saw the draft of her post yesterday bright and early Saturday morning and spent a good 45 minutes in bed watching commercials introducing us to the Hilfiger clan and day dreaming that I was there.  I was dating the hot door opening guy and Lucky the snowboarder, we would spend our weekends at the country club and watch our men play golf while we sipped dirty martini’s in our derby hats and puffed away on our quellazaires.  And it was ok, because in dreams you don’t get lung cancer and smoking is cool.  If there is ever a day when my family looks like that and are all bouncing around in their underwear decorating for Christmas I’ll start a world-wide petition that incest should be ok.  And you know how anti-incest I am.

Speaking of incest… (Like that transition?) Remember when my step-aunt and uncle wanted to bend the rules of morally right and set me up with their nephew and I was all cry baby about it because I think it’s gross to even flirt with someone that you can say you share an aunt and uncle with?  Well, he rejected me.  I wasn’t even interested and he rejected me. 

We sent a handful of facebook messages back and forth saying how funny step-aunt and uncle are for trying to set us up.  I didn’t ever mention meeting up because frankly every time I thought about it I threw up in my mouth a little.  And then, early last week, he sent the dreaded message asking if I had any days free between December 21st and New Years.  Uhh nopers, sure don’t.  And that’s not a lie; I will be on an island not worried about how my family is gross.  So I replied back telling him I’d be away on vacation, so that wouldn’t work and maybe we could get together the next time he was in the tri-state area.  Then he replied with this:

Sounds good, next year may be busy because the company now wants to move me to California to manage a new project for 2-3 years. I told Aunt I would apply for her company but California sounds like a good time.

Oh… okay, so you’re busy for the next 3 years.  No big deal, see you on the other side. I just thought this was hilarious. The way he says it makes it sound like I’ll still be around single and ready to mingle in 3 years and we can give it a try then (which probably isn’t wrong, but I’d like someone to give me the benefit of the doubt.  Especially since I was having dinner with Snatch and Anth the other night and they keep telling me to go on a date with their friend they call Dad and how they will still be trying to set me up with him when we are all retired.  And I was like for real? You think I’ll still be single at 70???!!! They made shifty eyes are were all… ummm heh heh jk jk!) Anyway, I know we were both just going to meet as a courtesy to our aunt and uncle who just thought we would be a match made in incest heaven, so I am relieved that I didn’t have to have an awkward date with someone who is basically family.

But, when one door you tried to lock shut to begin with closes another one opens, right?  Friday I’ll be seeing High School Crush at an ugly sweater themed charity thing.  I am excited to get inappropriately drunk with the possibility of getting my dreams crushed when he shows up with another girl, but I am not so excited to wear an ugly sweater that I don’t yet own.  I get it; dressing up in ugly things is fun.  But it stresses me out; wearing something ugly means my personality has to shine that much more on Friday night.  As if I don’t already have enough things going against me with this (barfing on him 8 years ago, the white elephant in the room that he picked dating an ugly horse over me after the barfing incident, the flashback he’ll surely have of the barfing incident when he sees me with a drink in my hand Friday) now I have to add in wearing something ugly.  And I can’t not do it, because what’s worse than being the girl who dresses sexy in a room full of people that are dressed ugly?

Usually when I think I’m going to see a guy I’ve had a crush on for 14 years I would spend all week making sure I had the perfect outfit planned out, my nails, hair, and skin all looked flawless.  But that all goes out the window this weekend.  It’s do or die time kids, this is what we’ve been waiting for.  This is like senior year spring break all over again.  8 years ago I was that barfing drunk girl and he still liked me (until the barfing happened).   So maybe now I can be that drunk girl dressed ugly and he’ll still like me.  God please do not let me barf on him again. 

And as if all of these factors already playing against me weren’t bad enough, Betty will be there.  Betty is like my kryptonite when it comes to guys.  If she says anything to him she will ruin 14 years of hard work and it’ll all be over.  I can see exactly what will happen, we’ll be chit chatting it up flirting away and zoning in for the long awaited make out and Betty will walk up and be like, “Hey you know Gizzy has liked you for half of her life?  Oh, and she poops.”  And he’ll be like, “Gross!!!  Laterz!” and I’ll never see him again.  The chances of this working out are about as good as a quadriplegic climbing a mountain. (Honestly, that’s probably happened, so the odds are worse, just as bad of odds as one can have.)

After I found out that I’d be seeing HSC this weekend I decided I needed to do something to take the pressure off (obvi).  Not that anything will happen (see, not jinxing it, that’s a good thing).  But say something works out and HSC and I decide to throw each other a drunken make out, I haven’t kissed anyone in 10 months, do I really want to break my dry spell and blow my only shot with HSC by licking his chin when I forget how to kiss because I’m so nervous? So, I went to the gym last night prowling for a date. 

I don’t know why, because my gym notoriously has a bunch of fugly guys walking around, but I went anyway.  I was on the elliptical doing my thing, scoping out the scene when I saw a hot guy come in.  It was perfect, not only was he hot and looked like he’d be down for some practice make outs he picked the machine right in front of mine.  He put all of his stuff on the little ledge then turned around and sat on the back of the treadmill for a solid 5 minutes and looked at me.  A little creepy, but he smiled at me so I took it as that he had ESP and was down for the make out, and then he said “Hi” and gave me some lets meet in the locker room after this eyes.  So it was on.  Then, he hopped up and was getting ready to start running when I noticed him pulling down his knee length shorts that unveiled his running panties.  The guy was wearing running panties.  If there is one thing that a guy can do to instantly turn a girl off it is wear running panties in public, or ever.  Blech!!  I don’t know, I guess I’ll just practice making out with my hand, because that is better than making out with a guy who wears running panties.

So there you have it, I have the triple threat of Betty, looking ugly, and rusty make out skills all working against me on this.  If I can come away from Friday night Scott free without crying I’ll consider it a success.

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11 weeks and 11 pounds

This week has been a real whirlwind for me, first because of all the unexpected contact with guys from my past over the weekend.  Then, as soon as I got to work yesterday I had a missed voicemail from my stepmom, saying my dad was in the hospital.  She didn’t leave much detail, only saying that he was bitten by a snake twice, he was ok, but would be in the hospital over night.

So I started to freak out and basically got nothing done at work yesterday.  It took me forever to get ahold of them and when I finally did they were just kind of ho hum about it.  Apparently my dad was with my grandpa at his country cabin and my dad was mulling around in a wood pile and when he pulled his hand out and it was gushing blood, swollen, and had 4 fang marks where the blood was coming from.  My grandpa had some kind of venom extraction do-hickey at his cabin so they tried that, but it didn’t work so they took my dad to the hospital where his motor skills were becoming slow and he was having trouble breathing… the works.

He didn’t see what kind of snake bit him, but they could tell from the side effects that it was venomous. He is ok, he gets to go home in the late morning and I still hate snakes.  I mean really… could anything else bad happen with snakes? Oh right, I forgot to mention that over the weekend when Betty was visiting she wanted to make sure the snake was in the cage and  we discovered that in fact it is not and Doogie has yet to inform anyone, but took the liberty of shutting off the heat lamp to save some energy and a few bucks.

So I told Anth that because of what happened to my dad it’s totally justifiable that I murder Doogie’s snake if it’s ever found…. and he told me that I need to reevaluate what is a big deal and what isn’t.  I mean…. my dad being in the hospital is a big deal, fucking asshole.  He claimed that me hating Doogie’s snake wasn’t a big deal because it’s a boa and it can’t do anything to me.  But, the simple fact that I could wake up in the middle of the night to that thing trying to choke me out because Doogie is so careless with it is plenty of reason to be afraid of it and want it dead.  I stand by my opinion – Anth’s an asshole!

Anyway… exactly 11 weeks from today I leave for Hawaii!! And that means I am getting down to the diet crunch time.  I’ve been slack assing on the working out because I’ve been super stressed at work, but I made the decision to make myself work out every day for the next 11 weeks and then after that I can go back to being fat.

So, if anyone wants to join my weight loss crusade I’ve done some research and here’s how it’s going down.  3500 calories = 1 pound.  But, you don’t lose a pound just by cutting 3500 calories out of your diet… it has to be a 3500 calorie deficit.  So you start with your resting (or basal) metabolic rate… I’m going with 1200 calories per day, but here’s a link to find yours in case you aren’t a 26 year old, 120 pound, 5 foot 3, female.

So every day my base calorie intake is 1200 calories, anything over is weight gain and anything under is weight loss.  To lose 1 pound a week I need to either burn 500 calories a day by exercising or only eat 700 calories.  So I’m going to need some ideas from everyone on low calorie foods that I can eat a lot of because only lazy days when I don’t want to work out I’m going to need some tasty ideas!

I ordered this Victoria’s Secret seashell/mermaid bikini

I was pretty disappointed last night when I tried it on and it didn’t look the same on me as it does this girl… so, operation lose a pound a week from now until I leave for Hawaii is in full force.  

Any dieting tips/staying strong advice/words of wisdom anyone has…give it to me!

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Extra Extra Read All About It: Gizzy’s going to be famous!!

Well my weekend was a bust, I did nothing, and to overcompensate for doing absolutely nothing I worked out too much and pulled all of the muscles between my belly button and my vagina.  Literally, I thought I was passing kidney stones when the soreness started to set in.  Because that’s what happens when you pull muscles on the top part of your vagina that you didn’t know existed, it feels like you’re going to pee out rocks.  Not just any rocks, those big gray driveway rocks.  Bastards!

I sat on the toilet for most of my Saturday evening, waiting to give birth to driveway rocks while simultaneously googling other diseases that would make everything from my belly button to my vagina hurt.  They pretty much all said the same thing, either I was dying or I pulled some muscles.  

So I tried P90X this weekend….it’s just good that I’m not sexually active because even still today I am walking funny.  People at work probably think I took it up the butt this weekend or something. 

Also while I was laid up in bed I checked my new favorite website that tells me when and where tv shows and movies will be filming in my city.  Pretty sa-weet, right?  While on the website I noticed a casting call section so I clicked on it and there was a casting call listed from a week prior for a new tv show set to premiere this fall.  The open call was for extras in some bar scenes.  AND they were going to pay the extras.  UM, sign me up! 

Too bad it was a week ago and I missed it.  But, I am going to start checking this website every day because I’m sure there will be more.  And damnit, I’m going to be an extra in a tv show!

We all know I’m a big fame whore that thinks Lucky and I are destined to marry celebrities and that’s why we don’t fit in with anyone.  Well! I’m not going to meet celebrities sitting on my caboose not being an extra in a new tv show.  So why not try, right?  Plus I am still on my trying to meet people without alcohol being involved kick, and so far that has yielded no new friends.  So… gotta try new things!  Plus most actors are hot so… I don’t really see a down side in this.

Don’t get me wrong here, the only acting experience I have is when I was Oklahoma (the state, not the musical) in my 6th grade play and all I did was hold up a sign that said “OK” and screamed out OKLAHOMA!!! So the chances of me actually getting picked to be a paid extra are slim to none, but I have high hopes for myself. 

The closest I ever came to making it in show biz was when my mom and my aunt took me to the Price is Right for my 23rd birthday.  They built it up so much in my head being all, “You’re young and cute, they’re going to eat you up… you’re for sure getting called to contestants row!”  I even made a shirt that said, “The Future Mrs. Drew Carey” and wore my glasses that are similar to his.  I thought I was golden.

We went through the interviews told the producers it was my birthday and that we had been up since like 2AM (it was about 1pm when we did our interview) and they still didn’t pick me.  After sleeping on the street in downtown Los Angeles to get seats RIGHT BEHIND contestants row… ON MY BIRTHDAY… they still didn’t pick me.  What. The. Fuck. 

So anyway, my claim to fame is the hour I was on national television sitting behind contestants row on the Price is Right.  I mean, we were on tv the whole time so what more can I ask for? Oh, to be an extra in a TV show? YEP! Doing it.

On another note, I hope all of our East Coast blog buddies survived hurricane Irene this weekend!! Just Married Girl, Simply Solo, Thoughts Appear, Shy Guy, and anyone else I missed…I hope you’re all alive!!

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Happy 1 Year Anniversary… To Us!!!

Well it seems as though Lucky and I have a little baybayy that is 1 year old tomorrow.  The blog!  That’s right, tomorrow we will have a special Saturday post, it will be very very serious (not really) about where we were a year ago versus today and where we expect to be a year from now.  A lot has changed!! Anyway, go us… this is the greatest anniversary either of us have had.

So, I called in sick today at work AND skipped boot camp.  I’m such a lazy piece of shit.  Really though, the next few months at my job are about to get straight up cray cray, so they say.  Yesterday they told me from June 1 to September 30th is the busy time and no one is allowed to take off work.  Well Lucky is coming to visit over her birthday and the 4th of July so I told them I was taking a day and a half off while she was here and they’d just have to suck it.  They said a day and a half was fine but no longer.  Fine, assholes.  So I called in sick today.  Mwhahaaaa! Have to use up my time somehow.  We have the whole “use it or lose it” policy.  And the only perk to this job is time off.  I’ve worked there 4 months and already have 2 weeks of time off accrued.  But I can’t take anything but sick days until June 18th, my 6 month anniversary.  And now they tell me really I can’t take anything until September 30th.  Well OKAY! Come September 30th I’m going to have to take a month and a half off so that I don’t lose all my vacation.  Fine by me.  But it’s whatever.  So today is my Gizzy day.  

On my day off, I plan to pack my bag for home and trash my room at the apartment.  JM is having a bachelor party of 12 guys this weekend stay at our place.  No offense to him, but I don’t want any drunk fool thinking they can come crash on my bed and pee/semen it, whatever it is drunk guys do in their sleep.  Disgusting.

My plan:

Strip my dungeon & bed of any sheets, blankets, pillows, and anything soft that they think they could potentially pass out on. Then, I’m going to take apart my closet and throw my clothes on hangers all over my bed along with some totes and other items.  If someone wants to sleep on my bed with no pillows and no blankets they’re going to have to work to get to it.  It’s pretty pathetic that this is what I have to do, but I guess that’s how living with inconsiderate guys goes.  It just sucks I can’t lock my curtains.

Not to mention JM is moving out in a week, so of course he won’t care if they trash anything and damage our apartment.  I’m honestly scared to what I will come back to on Monday.  SPEAKING OF, I get this email from Anth the other day about the whole “roommate situation”:

What do you want to do about next month’s rent? Tim definitely will not have his mind made up yet and I don’t think his lease is up until like August.  So do you want to move upstairs until he moves in, Gizzy? Not sure how else we could do it.

This is really starting to irritate me.  I thought Tim’s decision was made that’s why I was getting the boot?!!!!! UGHH!!!!! I agreed to it but told them I would NOT be paying the same amount that JM pays for the room because I am getting screwed.  And if Tim decides he wants to move in two weeks from now he can forget it.  I will move out at the end of August and only at the end of August.  I hate men, or boys rather.  And, I’m NOT paying a security deposit, and I’m NOT cleaning up after anyone else ANY. MORE. 

Now that I have sufficiently wasted 10 minutes of everyones day complaining about my life, I’ll get off my rant and leave everyone to have a mediocre Friday.  See you bright and early for the anniversary special!!! Why don’t we have a reality show?

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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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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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