Tag Archives: gigi

Gizzy re-enters the dating world

Last Tuesday just as I was getting off work the one friend I have in my city texted me and told me to come meet her at a bar, there were some friends of hers there that she wanted to introduce me to.  So I went, and when our server walked up I was speechless and a little flabbergasted at how hot he was. It was so bad that every time he walked by I got distracted and found myself staring.  Embarrassingly enough, he caught me on more than one occasion.  Needless to say, I got to meet some new people and stare at a hot man.  

The weekend rolled around and Gigi drove down for a visit Saturday night, she had just gotten back from a week long trip to Puerto Rico with Chuck, Nutter Butter, and some other people.  I was nervous about the trip because I assumed Nutter Butter would hook up with someone and I didn’t know if I was ready to handle hearing that.  She called me when they got back and told me he didn’t do anything so I could rest easy.  When she got to my city on Saturday and we went to lunch she told me that she had a sit down talk with him and was asking what really happened in our relationship.  He basically confirmed my worst fear and what I suspected all along, he just wanted to hook up with me.  It had always been a fantasy of his, that’s all it was to him, he’s also still in love with his ex-girlfriend but she’s married and lives 3000 miles away.  I got used.

That pissed me off enough to be all, “Lets get wasted tonight and find hot men!!!” And that we did. We went to the same bar from Tuesday and sure enough the same hot server was working and was our server again.  I expressed to Gigi how hot I thought he was and that I kind of have a staring problem and can’t look away, so we came up with a plan for me to start up a conversation with him outside of our drink order.  Earlier that day Betty had forwarded me a dick pic from her exboyfriend.  I had a good laugh because it was the guy standing infront of a mirror full on naked with a flaccid penis.  I couldn’t understand why any guy would send a flaccid penis pic, so that’s what I was going to ask this guy because I can’t break the ice in a non-awkward/not showing him another guy’s penis way.  I showed him the picture and he sat down and analyzed with us.  The rest of the night any time he had a free minute he’d come and sit down to talk with us and hung around for an extra hour after his shift ended.

To my surprise, he has already graduated college and has a full time job as a teacher but does the serving thing part time.  Before he left that night he asked for my number and asked if I wanted to go boating with him Monday…

…To be continued.

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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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MacAweenie & Cheese Is What’s For Dinner!!

There’s a lot to be said about my love life when I start to blog about fun shaped pasta.  Really though, there’s nothing to be said because it’s non-existent. OK, that’s settled. I also just ate an old LEMON flavored starburst I found in the bottom of my purse. I pulled it out and thought, ooooo candy nom nom nom nom nom. Christ.

I discovered penis pasta last night when I was commenting on Gigi’s facebook status about veal:

Gigi: just made some sort of veal dish, finished half a bag of doritos and half a mini-carton of reeses pieces.  I think I’m going to be sick.

Gizzy: So you ate the doritos and reeses pieces because you made veal and then realized that it was a politically incorrect piece of meat and it’s gross?

OK, so I was googling to see if veal was actually politically incorrect before I posted that on her wall because I was pretty sure, but you never know with meat politics.  I feel like they change every day, so I had to be 100%.  So when I googled “Politically Incorrect Veal” this came up:

I don’t know where google gets “Penis Pasta” from “Politically Incorrect Veal” but I like it.   Maybe google has just gotten so technologically savvy that they know exactly what kind of pages to pull up in order to get me to waste my entire night googling penis shaped food items.  Touche google, well played. This penis pasta really intrigued me though. I researched more and found “MacAweenie & Cheese – The Original Cheesie Weenie,” my favorite, even though it is 10 bucks a box, I would gladly spend 1000 of my shiniest pennies to eat tiny penises covered in cheese (no pun intended.)


I mean come on, how great is that?! It’s GENIUS.  And if you don’t think so, LEAVE MY BLOG RIGHT NOW! Kidding.  Not really.  This business is right up my ally, I literally was telling Lucky today to text our old high school friend that she will be seeing around Halloween and ask him if they could play “Halloweiner” and “Tip or Treat” while he’s in town.  We just get a huge kick out of anything where we can substitute in our own inappropriate version of it.

Also, this type of pecker pasta which is kind of disturbing with Mama Peckeroni on the front with that judgmental look at you, you WHORE look in her eye…

THEN, comes the most disturbing thing since I was banned from using the oven in the summer and I find that Japan actually has a “Pink Penis Parade”


Supposedly,  the parade is to instill fertility, prevent STDs, and raise money for HIV.  I’ll buy the raising money, but come on Japan, PREVENT STDs?!  THROUGH A GIANT PENIS!? All of your peoples set the curve in my college classes so then when I did mediocre work I got a mediocre grade, and it pissed me right off. So, you really expect me to believe that you smarties believe that this giant penis is going to PREVENT STDs!? Come on!!

Typically, this parade runs around the same time as Easter so next year when you’re eating your chocolate bunny, think about the Japanese eating their chocolate penises at the penis parade.  What’s more disturbing is that they let their babies ride on the big fake penises like it’s a horse. I would post more pictures but I’m not sure what classifies as child pornography. I mean, I don’t know maybe if my mom would have let me touch a big wooden penis when I was little I would be like eh no big deal and not be so fascinated with blogging about all of the food I am going to consume in the shape of a penis now.

In other news, I want to smack the face off of Amber on Teen Mom:

Really she is a cunty all around, but she specifically pissed me off in last night’s episode when her fiance-ish Gary asked her not to cuss in front of the baby and her response was, “Dude you make me cuss!” Or something equally as ignorant along the same lines.  If Gary were a smart lad (which he is not) he would take these tapes of her beating him with her cave man fist while screaming and yelling in front of the baby to a lawyer and take the baby because she is a psycho bat.  Ay ay ay, kids these days.

Well I’m off to drink a 6 pack of bud light and rip some of those biore strips off my face because what else do I have to do on a Wednesday night?  Tootles!

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Being an adult can SUCK IT!

Thursday was quite possibly the worst day of my adult life.   I say my adult life because I don’t think I’ll ever have a worse day then when I pooped my pants on the first day of 7th grade.  Oh wait.  No one knows about that.  Damnit.  Cat’s out of the bag!

Thursday started out seemingly decent.  I drove to my alma mater to attend the job fair.  I stopped at 3 booths while there (I am such an over achiever) got 2 interviews and an invitation to apply online (Proctor and Gamble, just my luck.)  One of the interviews was scheduled to happen on Friday morning and the other one will be down the road.  My friend Kyle that works at the company said he would hook it up.

So I leave the job fair and hop in my car to go to my test which is about 65 miles away and I leave in PLENTY of time, 2 hours before I need to be there.  I get 20 miles down the interstate and I hear a BOOM and see something fly out the back of my car.  G-REAT! THEN I hear a scraping sound and every time I hit a bump something flies up and hits underneath my car.  I pull off and see that my entire exhaust system has broken in half and is dragging the ground.

Thank the lord jesus for technology.  I hopped on the horn to a near-by midas and they told me to “bring ‘er in.” $320 and 3 hours later I had missed the test but the hoopty was purring like a kitten. I went back to SHIT U to stay at Mercedes apartment so I could be well rested for my big interview the next morning.

I was SUPER stoked about this interview.  It was with a software consulting firm so if they liked me I could be making 60K a year, get to live wherever I wanted in the continental US, get 4 weeks of paid vacation, have a 4 day work week, they fly me wherever I’m needed, AND they pay for my living expenses Monday – Thursday.  So that means I would only have to pay to be alive 43% of the time.  I thought I had a pretty decent shot of getting it considering I was wandering around the job fair aimlessly and one of their recruiters, Matt, approached ME to see what kind of job I was looking for.  I’m on my way back to SHIT U when right on time I get pulled over.  The officer clocks me going 69 in a 65.  On the interstate.  Like really fuck ass mother fucker, 4 over is subject to interpretation because what if your stupid ass radar detector is off or what if my gauge is off.  Like seriously, FUCK THE PO-LICE! So not only does he give me a speeding ticket, he thinks I’m hiding something and searches my car.   All he finds are some leftover bottles from events I’ve done IN THE TRUNK! I have no idea what the open container laws in this state are AT THE TIME and when he raises a stink about it I just say I thought it was fine since they were in the trunk and clearly I wasn’t drinking them.  He proceeds to tell me that he is going to confiscate them but will let me slide with a warning this time.  I flip him the bird behind his back (hope your fucking PO camera got that on film asswipe) and drive away going 64 miles an hour.  Later I looked up the open container laws only to find that it is NOT illegal to have an open container in the car, and the passenger can be chugging away all they want and these dirty po’s can’t say a word about it, SHIT even the driver is allowed to drink as long as when you’re given a breathalyzer you blow under 0.04.  So I could’ve been drinking the shit and not been breaking the law.  You best BELIEVE I am filing a complaint.  This state owes me some BOOZE!

Anyway, I get to Mercedes apartment and eat my feelings for a solid hour and a half when she tells me, Garbage is coming to go out tonight.  Garbage is Snoop-Linus’ “good friend” and old roommate who Mercedes was weirdly attracted to.  He has a greasy face, a HUGE nose, no personality, and basically sucks as a person so I don’t get it.  Garbage and Mercedes date back to when Snoop-Linus and I first began dating, they drunkenly made out in a bar one night after we introduced them and she fell in love.  Since then Garbage has stood Mercedes up, stolen her pot, stolen her booze, made her foot several of their dinner bills, pre-ejaculated, not ejaculated at all, not called her for months at a time, told her she was worthless and he could never bring a black girl home…. just to name a few.  He SUUUUCKS! Out of all of Snoop-Linus’ friends I want him to drop dead the most.  Not only did he screw over Mercedes, but he also screwed Snoop-Linus out of a nice apartment and thousands of dollars among other things, he also purposely and single handedly got me an F on a test and TRIED to screw me out of about $300.  These are stories for another time.  Just know, I hate him and wish him only the worst in life.

So, Mercedes is all excited because Garbage is coming to go out.  I explain to her at least 50 times that she knows how much of a grubbing mooch he is and that she won’t see or hear from him until 4am when he wants to come get laid and smoke a bowl.  Mercedes says “It’s different this time,” but I, I know it’s not because once a piece of garbage ALWAYS a piece of garbage.

Mercedes begs me to go out and be her wingwoman.  I’ll be a vagina block, that’s what I’ll be.  Fucking Garbage.  I tell her I’ll be the DD because I don’t want to jeopardize the wonderful opportunity I’ve been given to interview with this company.  So we go out and she meets some other dude and is all slob knob over him.  I’m standing there chatting away with Acts Gay But Says He’s Straight Friend Adam when I see BEAST/WHORE #1 walk in the bar.  I was already aware that Acts Gay But Says He’s Straight Friend Adam knows her and had previously filled him in on why I hate her. So I tell him BEAST/WHORE #1 is here!! He says “WHERE?!!” and as he turns to look there she is touching my arm with her Louis Vuitton.  Slut. My eyes were huge, Acts Gay But Says He’s Straight Friend Adam’s eyes were huge and she was just standing there like a dumb cunt towering over everyone with her beastly chins.

Beast/Whore #1 and Acts Gay But Says He’s Straight Friend Adam talk for a few about god knows what while I am furiously texting Gigi telling her to come help me take this bitch out. Gigi also has a bad history with Beast/Whore #1 so she is passionately hated by everyone who knows us and 99% of the campus and tri-state area, and Italy.

The next thing I know I hear Acts Gay But Says He’s Straight Friend Adam saying this to Beast/Whore #1, “This is my best friend Gizzy, she is like the most amazing person I have ever met.” Beast/Whore #1 sticks out her man hand and says, “Hi I’m Beast/Whore #1,” (You people know me well enough to know that this WILL NOT fly in Gizzy’s world.  Whore.) So I shoot her the dirtiest look I can conjure up and leave her man hand hanging solo.  Slut.  THEN she says, “I know you from somewhere, where is it?” OOOOHHH NOOO BITCH, ITS ON! I scream at her, “You know exactly where you know me from you fat whore.”  And throw my sprite on her fat head.  Turn around and see none other than HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON standing there looking at me.  I burst into tears and went running out of the bar.  And no one followed.

Eventually I pulled myself together and met Mercedes and her flavor of the hour at another bar, after repeatedly texting her to “let me know when that fat cunt leaves.”  The flavor of the hour realized he probably wasn’t going to get any so he left, then Mercedes eyes Garbage from across the way.  Of course Garbage never approaches her, just like I said so I put the kibosh on hanging out with him and tell her the train is leaving because I need to go have an ugly girl cry by myself.  So she says “hi” to Garbage while I stand at the door and scour him and his dirty friends with my eyes in disgust.

We get back to Mercedes apartment and it’s 3am, I tuck myself in happy that I am going to get 5 hours asleep when 20 minutes later Mercedes busts out of her room and says that Garbage and his friend are coming over to smoke at 4 am, just like I said.  I grunt in utter disgust and roll over.  45 minutes later they show up and repeatedly open her door every 5 minutes screaming my name until 7:30 in the morning to ensure that I get NO SLEEP before my interview.  See why I want them dead?   What pisses me off is that Mercedes is a bitch whore and never told them to stop because I needed to sleep.  She laughed.  And that is why Mercedes is now and forever SHUNNED! I have enough token black friends anyway.

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The bed wetter

Hopefully I can ward off my hangover long enough to pull this post together.  Yesterday my Dad and Step-Mom threw a wedding reception for themselves.  Knowing the kind of friends my dad has, the people they work with, and my family I knew this party was going to be no funzo for me.  So I helped out as much as I could stayed for 5 hours and then told my dad I started my period and needed to leave.  Like any man would do in that situation he got freaked out and shooed me out the door.  So away I went to my olllll alma mater.

I called up Gigi and Mercedes so we threw back some shots and away we went.  I had secret hopes of seeing HOTTIE out but of course never saw him or any of his peoples.  And like clockwork I got drunk and sent him a text at 2:30 in the morning asking if he was around.  No response.  Typs.  I think I’ll let him go.

Anyway, we’re leaving our first bar when I run into someone I met my sophomore year of college.  We’ll call him MP.  Now MP and I met sophomore year at my apartment.  I was out fratting it up and decided to have a little after partaaay with my friend Betty.  So Betty and I call up our friend Ryan, Ryan says he’ll bring his friend MP over so it’s even.  So we took a lot of shots, and by a lot I mean like finished a half gallon of vodka.  Betty and Ryan sat down in the living room to watch Napoleon Dynamite (that’s how long ago this roots back) so I go back to my room to go to bed and MP follows me.  Drunk as skunks we start to make out and crawl into bed.  Nothing else happened though because I think we both passed out.  So I wake up like 20 minutes later, come to my senses and get the eff out of there.  I grabbed a blanket and my pillow and went to the living room to finish watching Napoleon with Betty and Ryan and pass out on the living room floor.

I wake up in the morning to Ryan and MP shuffling around to gather their things.  I didn’t want it to be awkward so I just pretended I was still asleep until they left.  Well first I open up the fridge and see that they stole ALL of my capri-suns.  W.T.F.  So gay.  Then I head back to my room.  I scream and Betty and my roommates all come running.  “THAT MOTHER FUCKER WET MY BED!!!!!!!!” Huuuuge wet spot right in the center of my bed.  I call up Ryan and tell him and he busts out laughing, tells MP what I said and MP lies about it obvi and says it was me.  Then I get super pissed, “Um NO! I slept in the living room ass wipe!” This argument of who wet the bed went on for a good hour with more evidence of it being him than me.  So we hang up and what do I do? I create a facebook group and invite all his friends, “MP wet my bed and lied about it.”

Well time passed and eventually the attention to the story fizzled out.  About 2 years ago MP and I ran into each other in a bar, hashed it out, he admitted to wetting my bed so I said we could be friends.  I figured anyone who wanted to be friends with me after I made a facebook group about them announcing to a campus of 40,000 people that they are a bed wetter deserves a second chance.

So last night I run into MP, we’re all “Oooohhhhh how have you been, what are you up to, yada yada yada.”  I’m drunk enough to pull the ole, “Lemmeeee see if I still have yourrr numba!” (Exactly like that because I was hammered.) I didn’t so we exchanged numbers and as soon as I left he was texting me, take note of the time sequence:

1:23 am MP: What bar did you want to meet at?

G: Bar 4

1:25 am MP: Sounds good, lets meet there in a bit.

G: We’ll probably be there around 2

1:27 am MP: k wanna meet up later?

G: Ya sounds good, text me when you head to Bar 4.

1:29 am MP: Stop.  You wanna talk now?

G: Lol  talk about what? We’re at snakes drinking vodka tonics.

1:32 am MP: I guess I just wanna make out.  Is that bad?

*At this point I was cackling my little black stilettos off telling every one in the bar the bed wetting story, so I rolled with it to see what was going to happen.*

G: Haha not bad.

1:34 am MP: Come back to Henry’s real quick.

G: Ok we’ll come back in a minute when we finish our drinks. (not!)

1:36 am MP: K I’m here.

1:41 am MP: Where you wanna meet?

G: We’re finishing our drinks then coming to Henry’s.

1:45 am MP:  Sounds good

1:57 am MP: Where you at?

2:06 am MP: Yo wake up

G: Sorry finishing up now about to come there. (Not!)

2:07 am MP: K hurry!!!

2:10 am MP: Where you at?

2:15 am MP: Nlothin (Nothin)

2:15 am MP: Huh

2:21 am MP: Come on hun

*Text HOTTIE for a last chance at love, “Heyy are you around?”*

G: Sorry sorry just looked at my phone, we’re at Bar 4.

2:26 am MP: You wanna meet up?

2:26 am MP: Come to Henry’s silly

G: My friends want to stay here.

2:28 am MP: Come on just me and you

2:49 am G: I’m staying at my friends she wants to be here

2:51 am MP: Ok just wanted to say hi that’s all, no worries. (Uh huh)

G: Why didn’t you just come to Bar 4 then?

2:53 am MP: Haha your girl is here you need better excuses

G: I don’t think sooo they’re both with me

2:58 am MP: Where you at I will come to Bar 4.

G: Yeah come here (At this point I was already sitting in Mercedes car at the Mcdonalds drive-thru)

3:01 am MP: The bars are closed

3:02 am MP: Should I wait for you outside?

G: Ya

3:04 am MP: K to the right

3:23 am MP: Should I leave?

3:44 am MP: You in bed for the night?

*Next day*

11:51 am MP: You wanna get breakfast?

12:01 pm MP: come on, I wanna see you!

Is that someone desperate to get laid or is that someone desperate to get laid? Get home get on facebook, girlfriend.  RE-SHUNNED! Asshole.



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Once you go black…

I won’t lie that I am more than a bit sheltered.  I have never done anything sexually with someone of a different race.  I’m not opposed to it, but if I had my choice I’d like to start out with something small like an asian or latino and work my way up.

Last night I received the grand daddy of all offers.  When HOTTIE stood us up because he had a test today (BUH!) I went out prowling for someone who will act interested.  And I found him:

I wish it was really Drake, but it’s as close as I’ll ever come and he really does look like him, lucky me.  I have met this guy, I’ll call him Drake 2.0, a few times before. Once at a party where I had my hair in buns on the side of my head like princess Leia during my star wars phase.

The second time was at a pizza establishment at 4am where I offered him a slice of my pie, no pun intended.  I *think* he accepted the offer, but he reminded me that this happened during the time period when I was accident prone, to myself.  I had casts on 4 out of 5 fingers on my left hand and my entire arm wrapped in a weird arthritis type cast.  I know you’re all wondering what happened, as was he, I told him I got my arm caught under a lawn mower.  But here’s the real story:

I had just found out about Bi-Polar ex and the fat troll make out a few days prior, so I drank to forget my name.  The night started with beer pong with my besties, rollerblading alone around my apartment complex while double-fisting bud lights.  At some point the night took a turn for the worse and my “friends” let me go to the bars.  Alone.  The pictures from that night told me that I found some of my neighbors and went back to their place to play beer pong.  Something bad happened and I found myself in a pile of broken glass on my bedroom floor and my left appendage gushing blood.  I crept into Gigi’s room and she claims I had a towel wrapped around my arm with saran wrap around the towel, how I managed that one handed is beyond me but it’s pretty damn impressive. Gigi left her boyfriend to take me to the hospital, where our hilarious and inappropriate hawaiian friend Lara joined.  I ended up with 30 some stitches, a re-fillable prescription of vicodin, 5 awkward casts, and 25 pictures of my friends hanging out in the hospital ER at 4am.

Anywho, it’s embarrassing to tell people that I’m such a lush that I honestly don’t know what happened.  I know it was from a vase and I assume it fell off my wall and broke and I was drunkenly trying to clean it up in order to avoid exactly what happened, but much like the number of licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know.  So I would just make up whatever came to mind when people asked what happened.  It was usually the lawn mower story, or that I got my arm caught in the bus and then it drove off.

Back to the black dong, Drake 2.0 jokes around about having a one night stand which I joke back and say oh yeah your bed or mine? Like a whore.  I know.  Christ.  When he started to talk seriously about it and I was just drunk enough to not have a repeat of the elevator incident, I decided it was time to go so I made up an excuse and left my tab open for all my slumlord friends to nickel and dime my bank account to death, but not before I gave him my number.  He texted me all day and all night about hanging out tonight.  I agreed but as the day wore on I started to get nervous, black men notoriously have big penises.  Not that I was going to run out and sleep with him but I have a week and a half left in this city so I’m not reaaally looking to start conquering my next great love.

But I am scared, no terrified, to let a black man’s penis near my V.  More terrified than I am to become the creepy cat lady, which is an idea I’m starting to warm up to as I get closer and closer to 26 and the end of my fertile life as we know it. I am a small girl and I am nervous it will turn out like Mr. Hands. I’m only 25, I can’t die. If you’ve never seen or heard of Mr. Hands I suggest you keep it that way, trust me you do NOT want to know.  The story and images will sear into your brain and give you and your children nightmares for the rest of your life.  Gigi showed me the actual video without giving me fair warning of what it was and I no joke barfed my dinner up. Ok, so it’s a guy having sex with a horse.  Actually the horse is having sex with him, in the butt, and he dies after it.  The most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.  And if you google it, kill yourself because you’re SICK and don’t deserve to live.  That’s what I should’ve told Gigi after she watched it a second time.

So I texted Drake 2.0 a few hours before we were supposed to meet up and asked for a raincheck.  He’s flying out to L.A. for a job interview tomorrow (probably an interview to be famous, I’m a moron) and doesn’t know when he’ll be back.  Looks like I missed my chance at going black and never going back, I think I’m ok with it though.  He was asking Gigi about my ex bidness and I don’t want none that drama.  I’ll just keep it as a coulda, woulda, shoulda situation. Shoulda. Damnit.

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Tales From Tuesday Night

I went out last night for pint night.  Standard operation.  I drink vodka tonics.  Standard operation.  Drama ensued.  Standard operation.

Yesterday morning I was galavanting around campus getting my last few items on the list set up for when I leave this hell hole, when I walk in a building and see HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON standing at the coke machine.  I internally flip my shit, if I turn around and walk out he’ll know it’s because of him, if I walk up and say hi that could be weird since he hates my drunk guts, what do I do what do I do? Ok I’ll just rummage through my bag and pretend like I don’t see him.

I think I’m in the clear when I feel a tug on my arm and hear him say, “Hey Gizzy!” Ok, deep breaths, in and out, in and out.

Me: Ohhhh heyyyyy!! How have you been?

HOTTIE: Pretty good, you?

Me: Good good, whatcha been up to? (Other than not returning my texts, asshole.)

HOTTIE: Oh just school trying to pass this summer class,  you know how it goes.

Me: Yeah me too, same old stuff.

*awkward silence for 10 seconds, but felt like 10 years*

HOTTIE: Well, it was good to see you.

Me: Yeah you too, bye!

So after I text my psychiatry group (Lucky, Mercedes, and Gigi) I get mixed feelings about the convo. Gigi always the optimist tells me I have to let this one go because it’s not going to happen and I am a loser and should go for guys my own age anyway.  Lucky and Mercedes tell me it’s a good sign that he chased me down to say hello.  I like the latter of those two conclusions, which brings me to later that night.

Gigi, acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam, Chuck, Chuck’s friend LB, our new friend Bri and I are all taking shooters at Gigi’s place before going out.  I’m moping about how I should just kill myself because I’ll never find anyone who is hot and doesn’t cheat on me while everyone else is having a gay old time.  We walk to the bars and this convo happens:

Me: Gigi, HOTTIE’s lights are on, should I text him?

Gigi: YEAH! Tell him to come out.

Bri: Who are you talking about?

Me: This guy I like, but he hates me because I’m a drunk, he lives right there.

Bri: Are you talking about HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON?

Me: Um, yes.

Bri: You told me about him but never told me his name.  He is best friends with my roommates boyfriend and over at my place all the time with them, I’ll hook a sista up.

Then, I tell her about the elevator incident and she thinks it’s not a big deal and tells me that he is very shy and in the 3 years that she has known him not once has she seen him with a girl or ever heard him speak of a girl.  I take this as good news and buy Bri and I some shots.

As the night wears on we decide to scheme a plan to get HOTTIE and I together tonight.  Bri is going to text him and beg him to come out with her and her new friends (insert Gizzy) then we’re all going to pre-drink at Bri’s place and HOTTIE and I will fall madly in love and get back on course making our enginerd clan.

I really like this plan and I hope it works.  Since Bri has been so generous to me and my love life I felt it was my duty to wingwoman for her for the rest of the night.  She found a guy she thought was hot so I was stuck talking to his douchey friend, Rob Thomas (yes, like from matchbox 20, I made him show me his ID.) Rob Thomas is one of those guys who thinks he’s all that and a bag of chicken, but he ain’t.

Anytime someone would touch him he would throw his hands up and say, “HEY! Hands off the merchandise.” He also would not stop bragging about how he went to Penn State and that he was 28. See, this is why I don’t date older guys.  The younglings have nothing to brag about other than their sexual escapades and how much ever clear they drank the night before, they’re just a bundle of fun.

Being a good wingwoman and not wanting to vagina block Bri I give Rob Thomas my number and agree to hang out as a group again.  Big mistake.  Today I wake up to a text from him asking if Bri and I want to meet him and some friends out tonight, then he facebooks me, and as soon as I push accept he facebook chats me except he was pissed off because in my interests on facebook it says that I am interested in asians.  He jumps up my ass asking if I am USING him because he is asian.

What exactly would I be using you for, I ask Rob Thomas.  He says to fulfill some asian fantasy.  WOW.  I didn’t say I wanted to bang all of the 5 billion asians in the world.  I said I am interested in asians.  My other interests are putt-putt and boxed wine.  He can’t take that seriously, can he? Well he does.  So I proceed to tell Rob Thomas, the asian, why I am so fascinated by asians.

I mean, at least once a day I see an asian sprinting down the street with their arms full of shit and I just always wonder where do these asians have to be with their shit in such a hurry? And if I don’t see one sprinting down the street for no reason I’ll see one aimlessly wandering down the street.  It’s a win, win.

I could go on for hours about why I love asians and think they are so hilarious, but I’ll spare the feelings of those who are offended and who now think I’m racist and stop.  But, Rob Thomas does not agree that asians are funny and said he had to go.  Then, I do the greatest thing ever and look at Rob Thomas’ facebook profile picture:

And he proves my point to a T. I hope I see him out tonight.

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Bi-polar ex

I went out to get pants shitting drunk. Again.  And all hell broke loose.  Again. My phone has never blown up so much in my life.  People don’t call me to wish me a happy birthday, but if they get word that I’m getting drunk it’s, OH the entertainment has arrived.

Monday night I get a text from Merdie telling me to come over and drink tequila with him and his roomies, I say that I can tomorrow night, so it’s a plan we’re blacking out on Tuesday.

Tuesday comes and I get a text from Texas asking if I want to go out. Well of course, come one come all.  If I’m gonna pimp myself out I better do it right.  Then, my friend Chuck (who is a girl) tells me she is coming up and acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam and her other friend Barbie are going to join in on the festivities.  ALRIGHT! Now we have a fucking party.

So Chuck, Barbie, Adam and I are at my place taking shooters like it’s our job, waiting for Merdie to get off work and give us the green light to come over, which never happened (bast!),  when Texas texts me and says to come over and take shots with them.  So we do.  It’s all kind of a blur but since my mouth tasted like someone pooped in it this morning, I can imagine we were combining all sorts of alcoholic treats.

About 11:15 we all stumble out of Texas’ place and into our favorite drinking establishment, Snakes, when Chuck pulls me into a booth and says “GIZ!!! LOOK WHO IT IS!!”

I look up and see none other than bi-polar ex.  Oh this night just got interesting.  Some background info on bi-polar ex:

He has the name, bi-polar ex, because he is for reals bi-polar.  At least that’s what the word on the street is.  He never told me anything about it, but I have heard from more than one source if he doesn’t take his meds it is bad news bears and things will get broken. Icaramba.

Chuck and Gigi had a 4 bedroom apartment a few years ago with only the two of them living in it.  They put an ad on Craigs list looking for 2 female roomies, so Mercedes and I moved in, and when we moved in bi-polar ex was subleasing Chuck’s room for the summer. So there, that’s the story of how I met Chuck, Gigi, and bi-polar ex and a slew of other characters who I’m sure will come out of the woodwork in due time.  If I had known the injuries, broken hearts, and shattered dreams that would occur because I lived in that apartment, I still would’ve fucking done it.  Best year of my life.

I have no bad blood with bi-polar ex, he’s actually one of the more decent guys that I dated.  We were never officially together so when I got word of him making out with some fat troll at a party there wasn’t much I could say; other than to say nothing at all, and quit talking to him, which is exactly what I did. And for the past year and a half he has badgered every single one of my friends, probing them for info on what’s up with me, all while he has had a serious girlfriend, Katie.

So here we are shooting the shit with bi-polar ex and his bff, texas and his bff, and my gay but says he’s straight friend, waiting to meet up with snoops friends, if HOTTIE would have walked in the door I think I may have had a heart attack.  There was way too much sexual tension in the room for one girl to handle.

So Texas tells me he’s too fucked up and has to go home, thank the jesus lord because bi-polar ex is getting drunker by the minute and is starting to drop bombs like, “I really fucked up with you,” and “You’re the only girl that’s ever given me a thrill.” To which I respond, “I don’t think your girlfriend would like you saying those things.”  Then he reveals that things aren’t going so hot with his girlfriend and he doesn’t think it’ll last much longer.  Ya ya ya…. that’s what the guy ALWAYS tells the stripper he’s about to fuck at his bachelor party.  Come on.

Fast forward to the end of the night, I look around and no one is left from our group except yours truly and bi-polar ex.  I’m close to blackout status once again because he keeps buying us mind erasers, and I know it’s only going to worse from here on out. And it does.

“You know, I  knew you were the girl I was supposed to marry the first time I hung out with you.”

Actually I do know you feel that way because you told all my friends and they told me, mind you the first time we hung out was nearly 2 years ago when I was 23 and a raging drunk (not much has changed), and I was throwing a broken tv off of my balcony, just to hear it shatter. But I remind him of the awful things I used to do to him when he would fall asleep, I’m worse than a frat brother, not to mention at one point in the evening I walked out of the bathroom and my dress was totally tucked into the back of my underwear.  No one told me, I figured it out when I started wondering why I could feel the leather from the stool on my bare ass when I knew my dress nearly drug the ground.

Yes, those are temporary tattoos.  I am too fucking lazy to cut them apart.  A funny story about these temporary tattoos.   You can see there are google eyes in there.  Well, Mercedes was dating this scrubby guy at the same time who would always ask her to have sex doggy style.  Which she is strictly a starfish kind of girl, so I talked her into letting me put google eyed temporary tattoos on her ass so when he pressured her to do it doggy style she could say OK then just before he stuck it in he would see some creepy eyeballs looking back at him.  It was a smash hit, for us anyway.  The scrub hated it but I laughed my ass off when I heard him scream “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?” and bolted out of our apartment.

Not only would I, his psuedo girlfriend, do things like this to him every single time he passed out on me.  I would also let my friends partake and spread the wealth.

After the marriage line and reminding him how many times he threatened to pee all over my apartment after the pranks I pulled on him, I look over and he is down on the ground on one knee saying he’s serious and asking if I will marry him. I can’t make this shit up people, my jaw dropped and I said, “Fuck!!! Get off the fucking floor you fool, you’re gonna get gangrene on your knee!” He gets up and tells me he is dead serious and if I would even CONSIDER giving him a second chance he would dump Katie and never speak her name again; and if I don’t then I’ll always be the girl that got away.

He rambled on for a good hour about how sorry he is for making out with the fat troll at that party, how he was so immature and partied too much back then and didn’t realize what he had until it was gone.  He took the time to list everything he loves about me, bashed on himself and snoop-linus for fucking up the best thing that ever happened to them.  But, that’s what they all say, right? Katie is kind of trollish herself, but from reading what she posts on his wall she seems like she has a mediocre personality. My guess is that it’s not going well because he cheated on her, he wouldn’t give me any deets, but I know these assholes like the back of my hand. OR maybe it’s not going well because every time he sees one of his ex’s he pulls this shit, I mean he was hugging me and kissing my forehead the entire night.  I told him it was inappropriate and he’d be in deep doo-doo if any of his gf’s friends saw, but he didn’t care.  He even tried to hold my hand.  How romantic.  Gag.

Chuck started texting me saying she was done shoveling pizza into her face and she would ride this bike she found with 2 flat tires around my parking lot while she waited on me to get home.  My friends are the most special people.  She wrecked it of course, so I had to book it home to doctor up, Chuck “Bloody Knees” Smith.

Bi-polar ex offered to walk me home, so off we went.  We got about halfway back to my apartment when he stops me in the middle of the street and says he can’t go any further because he’ll want to come in.  I mean, last I heard don’t I have to invite him in? That never happened, so I don’t know why he was getting so debbie fucking downer about it because I wasn’t about to let anything happen, but I just rolled with it and said ok.  Then came the water works.  I don’t know if he was actually that upset that he lost me or if he is just that desperate to get laid, but I mean I’m 25.  I’ve seen it all.

I couldn’t even get in the door before he was calling asking to come over, I told him no and that he should see where things go with his girlfriend, if it didn’t work out then he could call me but I didn’t want to be a factor in them breaking up.  I’m not a home wrecker.  Plus his parents are polish and his mom scares the bejeezies out of me.  If she likes this girl and he dumps her for me I will be scared she’ll pound me with her iron fist or try to scratch me up with her mustache.  He went around and around for another 20 minutes feeding me the same bullshit he had been all night and sending me texts that say, “I miss you.”

The liquor was starting to set in on me, I don’t remember replying but it was in my sent box so I guess I said, “I’m not saying I don’t miss you or that I do, but boundaries.” This text makes sense, kind of.  When I dated bi-polar ex I notoriously would send him super weird creepy texts when I was blacked out, so I guess he is probably used to it, but the kid brings out a different side of me.  The best one ever being, “You’re missing out on an upstairs romp session where they paint their necks with the bowl-skier.” Whatever in the hell that means.  If I have a moment where I start thinking I am too cool for school or any of these faggots I read that text message to bring myself back to reality.

He replied about how even before all of this he knew I was the girl with a hook and that the selfishness in him wants to be with me.  I think I should seriously consider touring the United States talking to high school girls about lines that guys will try to pull to get you to sleep with them, AND if they’re desperate enough they’ll poke holes in the condoms so they can get you forever.

I woke up this morning to find that I had posted this on his facebook wall:

Apparently, to me, an overweight monkey wearing a jean jacket is just HIL-ARIOUS at 4 o’clock in the morning.  I’m really working on the monkey issue but unfortunately there isn’t psychotherapy offered yet for a monkey addiction.  And if I drink? Well, you see what I do.

All in all, the stuff was really nice and made me feel good. And if I hadn’t been shit on by every single guy I’ve ever dated I probably would’ve bought it and woken up with him in my bed.  What’s really good to know is that even when I am bordering a blackout I still have my wits and can smell bullshit from a mile away.  He has been texting me all day trying to take me on a date, to get margaritas and tacos.  The kid knows me too well to know that I will never turn down an alcoholic beverage, especially if it is paired with a tiny corn envelope!

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Happy Birthday Lucky!!! I blacked the fuck out in your honor.

This post is so important to my life and to our 4 readers that I am consciously making myself late for work so that I can post it.  I only have a month left at this job so who gives a damn right? Not me.  They can fire my ass for all I care and I’ll just post blogs all day long about cool stuff I find on the web, like hurr:


A smoking monkey!! I actually went trolling for this picture of the scariest demon monkey that has ever walked the planet, but it seems as though someone came to their senses and took it off the internet.  Thank goodness for that because I love googling cute monkey pics.

Anyway, back to the weekend that ruined my life.  Last I told everyone HOTTIE and I were about to get married and start spitting out half a dozen enginerd children.  Things went array when I decided to celebrate Lucky’s birthday last Friday, mind you Lucky and I live over 1,000 miles away from each other so we were together in spirit.

Gigi, our acts gay but says he’s straight friend Adam, and I started the night out sharing a bottle of smirnoff pineapple aka blackout in a bottle.  Since I was texting with HOTTIE and he was going out as well, I convinced Gigi and Adam that we had to finish the entire bottle because I was going to put the moves on HOTTIE.  We finished the bottle and made it to the bars around 1am, when we hoped everyone else would be on our level.  And by that I mean, everyone else is drunk and we are those girls that every guy in the bar is glad they aren’t dating.  We arrive and I immediately see my “little bro” (side note: little bro is a greek little bro, I was a sorority bitch and so was Lucky, little bro at my school means some freshman you get wasted until he pukes and embarrasses himself.) little bro says that he needs to buy me a shot for my birthday because he missed it 6 months ago, I agree that he owes me and throw back the tequila.  Then I move down the line to one of douchearoo’s friends who I talk with for a while about coming to sit in his hot tub, and here’s where the night gets fuzzy…

I finally make my way to HOTTIE and his friends, where I see one of snoop-linus’ friends, Merdie who is conveniently also friends with HOTTIE and out with him this very evening.  Merdie and I exchange numbers and promise that we are going to get pants shitting drunk for the next month together.  At one point in the evening I remember calling HOTTIE a pussy while caressing his arm because he wouldn’t take the bubblegum shot I bought for him and then he left. At which point I tell Merdie and all of HOTTIE’s friends from home that I really like him but that he hates my drunk guts.  Then I have this text convo with HOTTIE:

1:42 a.m.

Me: Hey where’d you go? Merdie is looking for you

1:52 a.m.

HOTTIE: Sorry someone called and had to leave.  Prob be back out

1:54 a.m.

Me: It’s cool… let me know if you come back out.

1:55 a.m.

HOTTIE: Aight, it’s 2am already though you should just come over

1:57 a.m.

Me: Yeah for sure.  Just tell me when to come over.

1:58 a.m.

HOTTIE: Whenever you finish up at the bars

1:59 a.m.

Me: Ok.  I’ll be over in a few

Throughout the entire text convo I am pounding jager bombs and telling everyone how I’m going to DO IT, I’m going to put the moves on HOTTIE.  They’re all cheering me on, and raising me above their heads chanting GIZZY! GIZZY! GIZZY! After I tell HOTTIE I’ll be over in a few, less than 5 minutes later I’m knocking at his front door like a desperate fool.

We’re hanging out for a while, talking and flirting, we went on a walk to get snacks, and when we came back is when I fucked everything up.  I guess those jager bombs finally hit me because there we are cozied up on the couch when I feel the urge to projectile vomit all over both of us.  I jump up, tell him I’ve got to go, scurry around to grab all of my belongings, and bolt out the front door.  He’s chasing me insisting that he walk me home because it’s nearly 4am.  I say no no no and hop into the elevator, where he follows me, and I sit down on the floor.  So here I am, in the skankiest skank dress I have, that I can’t even find a picture of online now.  Probably because they realize what horror the dress ensues on those that wear it and created a recall that only I have yet to receive.  But it was a knee length, skin tight, black, tube dress.  Very hot.  But here I am sitting in HOTTIE’s elevator, probably showing him my cooter because GOD FORBID I wear underwear and have panty lines and not show the guy I like my goodies when I’m blacked out drunk laying on his elevator floor.   So we get to the bottom floor, I can’t remember but I’m guessing it went something along the lines of me thanking HOTTIE for looking so good and then running out the door trying not to projectile vomit while he can still see me.

I don’t remember the 3 block walk home from HOTTIE’s apartment to mine, I thought I came home, threw up, and went to bed but I woke up in the morning with a mystery substance that smells like literal shit strewn about my living room floor. I was also naked, alone, and had wet hair.  As soon as I woke up I called everyone I knew to see if they thought I had ruined it with HOTTIE; the general consensus was yes but that I should still apologize and see what he said.  Me being a giant coward that I am, I wait until 3pm to text him and apologize for being a hot mess the night before, when I get the reply, “It’s no problem.” And I haven’t heard from him since.

BUT, since I have analyzed the shit out of the situation and everything I could remember, I had to get someone else involved that was there that evening; considering Gigi, Adam, and I had pieced together all we could.  So I call up Merdie to see if he wants to get a drink. (Thats right Gizzy, just go drink some more. Idiot.)  Last night Merdie and I met for a few drinks with Gigi, her boyfriend, and his roommates in tow.  I tell him what happened with HOTTIE and he says that he spoke with HOTTIE’s bestie the next day who was there that night as well and he told him, “Yeah, HOTTIE is a sissy.”  I dissected this into meaning that he had the same intentions I did that night, but since he let me go home his friends all think he has no game now.

Of course, me Gizzy the master of master plans has what else? A master plan.  I’m going to linger outside HOTTIE’s classroom tomorrow morning before class and force him to talk to me.   Als0, Texas is coming into town tonight and wants to meet up we’ll see what kind of drunken mess I can get myself into tonight.  God speed.

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Gizzard the lush

First things first, I’m going to post 2 emails for DOUCHE DAY this week since I didn’t get to post the counter fellacio story last week.  I assume the demon jack off poonanis quit paying his comcast bill and they shut him down, because I quit getting free internet last week.  Sucks. Sucks real bad.

On to bigger and better things, my Friday night turned into a drunken circus.  Literally, I was swinging from trees like a monkey.  My friend GiGi and I went out to get a pitcher and a pie at 6:30 and I was at home face first on the floor drooling on myself by 11. The pitcher turned into pitcher(s) which turned into vodka tonics and then shots of tequila.  Needless to say HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON got a phone call and it could’ve gone better, the time was 10:13 and the call lasted 38 seconds:

*RingRing

HOTTIE: Hello?

Me: scHiiii, whats you doing?

HOTTIE: Sitting on the balcony, are you drunk? It’s 10 o’clock.

Me: NO.. I.. *pause for 4 seconds*

HOTTIE: Gizzy, are you there?

Me: Yeah what are you doing?

HOTTIE: Uhh

Me: You’re hot, HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON.

Me: HOTTIEEEEEE MCHOTTERSONNNNNNN (I was acutally calling him HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON, not his real name.)

Me: I..I Gigi is coming

Hottie: Why don’t you just call me back when you get home?

Me: Okbye.

Well, I didn’t call him when I got home.  I can’t remember if it was because I knew he was never going to speak to me again or if I was just too drunk to function.  I thought I outgrew drunk dialing when I outgrew the frats.

Well HOTTIE called me bright and early.  I was supposed to do a captain mo gig up by his house so he wanted to do something when I got off, even after I put myself to shame.

Fast forward to Saturday night, I get off work and parked to the left of the tennis court at his $3.5 million dollar house. Wow.  I mean I’ve seen some big houses but this was unbelievable.  I had already told him I couldn’t meet his parents dressed as a pirate hooker so I needed some assurance that he was going to be the only one home.  They could’ve been home and we never would’ve seen them, he stays in the guest house when he’s home and if it weren’t for the neighbors calling about my hoopty sitting out back claiming there was a robber in the neighborhood they would’ve never known I was even there.

I changed into presentable looking clothing and we were on our way.  We pulled up to a restaurant on the beach of a lake and sat on the patio area that was over the lake for the sunset while we waited for our table, which was by the window facing the lake.  All joking aside this was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen, if my camera wasn’t stuck to the bottom of my purse in milk duds I would’ve taken my own pictures.

They had mostly seafood and steak.  I had a bloody steak like a lady, and he had lobster.  Post dinner we walked out on this little pier thingy you see and got on board a boat that drove us all over the lake and then stopped dead center for the fireworks show.  I doubt he planned that but if he did he deserves some kind of medal.  After boozing it up all night I had to stay at his house (oh what a shame.)  Surprisingly, he didn’t pull any hanky panky and kept it PG-13.

Sunday morning we got up and he made us french toast, eggs, and bacon then we hopped in the car and went to the city to go to the real beach.  Basically it was the perfect date considering the ass I made out of myself the night before and the fact that I called him not 2 hours ago asking if he could stop by to unzip my dress, it was tots stuck.

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