Tag Archives: florida

I’M A DOER!

I figured out today that I am the Regina George of my friends (Lucky excluded because she’s special and also a doer), the Queen Bee, El Presidente, the leader. Why? Because I’m the only doer, and the rest of them are dummies.

Example 1: Betty and I are trying to plan this Florida trip that is happening in exactly 3 weeks and of course it’s drama.  Now when I say Betty and I, I mean Betty, because remember I am a doer so my trip is already planned, booked, and paid for.  She’s just dragging me into her unnecessary drama and I’m tired of it.  We found out about our friend’s wedding 8 months ago, and  knew that it was in Florida 8 months ago.  Which automatically means you have to buy a flight and book a hotel.  I bought a flight, booked a hotel, and rented a car already, literally all Betty has to do is book her own flight and that. is. it.  But I’ve gotten numerous texts and calls from her about how the flights are too expensive and can I look them up for her to see if I can find her a cheaper one? Um no. No I cannot.  Sorry I have a life and don’t care if you go to the wedding or not. On the sidelines Betty is also trying to back out of going to the wedding in general, which would mean less drama for me so I’m hoping that’s what she does.  Then I can enjoy a relaxing weekend in Florida by myself, or if I can get the all clear from the Bride – invite Lucky along for a weekend of drinking and debauchery at the beach. 

Example 2: A few months ago Gigi, Jules, and I came up with the bright idea to go to a baseball game in Gigi’s city.  I found a weekend when the home team for her city was playing the team from The Big City, so we decided we should get tickets to that.  Gigi volunteered to get the tickets a few weeks ago and has yet to do so because first she didn’t know what website to get them off of, so I directed her to stubhub.  Then she had some big blow out with her landlord that left her crying for days.  Etc, etc, etc.  Inside it is hurting me to not just go online and get them myself because it would literally take 15 seconds, but like the above example I am learning the hard way (the hard way being me missing out on a fun drunken baseball game when she doesn’t do it) that I need to let loose on the reins and try to turn my friends into doers too before I kill them all for being lazy sloths. 

So I’m not going to get the tickets, I’m not going to help Betty find a flight, or talk to her about the trip again for that mater.  I’m going to sit back and let them figure it out on their own.  I have examples for days just like this of events where I have had to do all the work because everyone else sucks. With that being said, I don’t know how they all get themselves dressed in the morning. 

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Eff

Yesterday was great.  As always.  Not.  I have a 20-30 minute commute to work everyday.  I’m generally always late for everything so I leave my house about 10 minutes before I have to be there.  However, the past few weeks all these goddamned honkeys around here have been getting in car accidents every morning.  So I show up at work 30 minutes late huffing and puffing about, “WHY CAN’T THE COPS PULL THE CARS OVER TO THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AND TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS?! WHYYYYYYYY IS IT NECESSARY TO TAKE UP 3 LANES OF TRAFFIC TO FILL OUT A REPORT ON A FENDER BENDER??????!!!!!!!!  GODDDDD THE GOVERNMENT!!!”  And my co-worker/wretched whore boss has a little snort about it and tells me I should find a new way to work before it’s me in the fender better.  Ha.  Funny,  you whore.

So anywho, that happened and before the 10 o’clock hour rolled around I had gotten into an argument with an overweight, half retarded, half handicapped, senior.  Or I mean a woman I have work relations with daily.  I hate her.  She can’t do her job, so when she fucks shit up I call her and tell her and she has a problem with that.  Me screaming rape throughout it all doesn’t help the situation, but it lets her know I’m serious that she needs to get her shit together.  OR REPERCUSSIONS WILL BE HAD!

Then, my dad decided he wanted KFC for lunch and because I’m everyone’s bitch I had to go get it.  I didn’t even use his money to pay for mine, after I waited for 25 minutes on chicken and didn’t even get any biscuits.  I know, if I could slap myself I would.  I don’t mind doing things for my dad, he’s rather entertaining so I take it as an even swap.  I deliver him delicious chicken and in return I get to see my stepmom do impressions of him after I call to ask stupid questions, like where I can buy motor oil.

One of the most entertaining stories about my dad is when he took Lucky and I to Panama City Beach, Florida our sophomore year of college, where he got drunk and accused us of conspiring against him to hang out with boys.

At the time it wasn’t all that funny, and my dad still beats himself up about it, but I think it’s absolutely hilarious.  All week Lucky and I kept seeing these tiny crabs on the beach so of course after a few bottles of wine and some good dinner one night we decide to gear up with our flashlights and our buckets (that conveniently came from our sand castle kits, my stepmom truly is one of the only people who understands us and our level of maturity) and head out to the beach.

Well whatta ya know, before we even got to the beach we saw a little crab in the bottom of the baby pool.  So we caught it.  Job well done.  We decided it would be a good idea to still go fuck around on the beach so we did and met some guys, one that oddly went tot he same University as Lucky.  So we sat and talked with them for a while and the next thing we know here comes my dad, assuming he was probably pissed I immediately start introducing the guys to him and telling him that one of them goes to Lucky’s school and they’re being all polite and jumping up to shake his hand.  My dad doesn’t say a word, dumps our crab out of our bucket, drops the bucket on the ground, turns around, and walks back to the hotel.  Jig is up.

Lucky and I slummed back into our room where my dad went off thinking that the whole week we had planned a conspiracy against him to meet up with these guys and the guys put the crab in the pool so we didn’t have to go searching for one and could come back and be all, HEY DAD LOOK WE FOUND A CRAB! And we could go and have some sand sex with these guys or something and no one would suspect a thing.  I mean, in retrospect that’s a pretty good plan and it would’ve worked on my mom.  But, I would never try to pull a fast one on my dad.  He is usually pretty cool so I was all YO DAD IF WE WANTED TO HANG OUT WITH THOSE GUYS WE WOULD’VE JUST TOLD YOU.  Stepmom got into it, I told my dad Lucky and I were flying home in the morning and he could take his vacation and suck it.  Of course he came around and realized that maybe a crab really did crawl into the pool because, DUH crabs like water.  So he apologized to Lucky and I and all was good in the hood.

We had a good rest of the vacation, but of course we were banned from the beach without supervision for the rest of the week.  We got my dad back by making him buy us a nice crab dinner and drawing a dung beetle on his arm while he was passed out on the balcony.  OH college.

Anyway,  neither Lucky or myself have had any love dramas lately.  So sad.  BUT, I’ll have you all know that the date with Betty’s army/art teacher friend is officially set for next Thursday.  I might puke though.  I already kind of want to cancel. Don’t freak out, this is what I do.  Actually I probably will cancel a couple of times.  It just happens.  I have to build myself up and blow him off so many times that I feel guilty and force myself to go on the date.  Then we’ll have a wonderful time and he’ll be my boyfriend and future first husband or some shit.  It’s all very romantic in a Runaway Bride type of way.  It’s a double date though, which will make it about a million times more awkward because Betty will ask inappropriate things and tell inappropriate stories, like how on my 21st birthday I had 26 shots, autographed peoples clothing items without their knowledge or permission, then came back to our sorority house and coughed up a cheesestick whole and hid it under our futon, then passed out sitting up in my computer chair in my bra and underwear.  That’s always a favorite of hers.  Lets just hope she doesn’t bring the pictures.  I think I made her destroy them, but I can’t remember for sure.  I’m definitely canceling.

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