Tag Archives: girl power

Some people really are destined to be…alone.

One night, (I believe it was super bowl Sunday) Lucky and I had a long talk about how we are awkward and a-social, and how we genuinely feel there’s no one out there waiting for us.  This conversation was prompted by #1 my drugs and #2 the fact that it was Snoop-Linus’ birthday, I sent him a Happy Birthday text, and heard nothing back for almost 24 hours.  I was starting to get the feeling that I should just suck up all of Snoop-Linus’ bad habits and cheating ways and be with him, I texted Lucky for a reality check, but when it comes to the two of us we can quickly bring the other one down too, as I did with Lucky that very night.

Anyway, the point of this story is that I don’t know how to talk to people, and I’m afraid it has me doomed to be a lonely old maid or to be with what I know, someone who treats me like shit. I won’t lie, Snoop-Linus finally texted back, we got into an argument, I said some things he said some things, it was ok for a few days, and now it’s back to awful.  If I can’t even get my cheating ex-boyfriend to give me any attention, how in the EFF am I supposed to get it from a nice guy?

It’s not just men that I feel like I can’t communicate with, it’s women too.  Like I can’t even make conversation good enough/act interested enough in peoples lame stories slash lives to get a decent group of girlfriends.  It all just seems so exhausting, and that is pretty much the same way I feel about dating.  Hearing the backstory of every ex-boyfriend/girlfriend and lame friend they’ve had that got them where they are today wears me out.  I mean that’s a lot of talking, and frankly if someone wants to put it all out there I’ll put my face into a pitcher of beer and listen.  But, they better not expect me to reciprocate the stories, because if that’s the case we’re going to need something a lot stronger than beer.  And by that I mean tranquilizers and a therapist.

Of course, I have my current friends who I will listen to/whine to about my problems all day long, but that’s because I already know their stories, I know the people in the stories, and I feel comfortable giving/asking for advice.  But when you meet someone new and they are telling you all of these stories where they’re all, “Oh and THEN John drug me behind his car and left me in a dumpster for dead.” And when I say, “Oh thank god you got rid of him!” And in walks said John with their 3 kids and malshi-poo, I’m the asshole.  So unacceptable.

So here I am, 1 month in to what was supposed to be the greatest decision/fresh start of my life and I’m pretty miserable. Not because I live in the laundry room of a frat house and have curtains for walls, but because I’m too lazy to make friends or find any kind of romantic life for myself.   Even Anth doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore because I’m gross and lately have been coughing things up.  I can’t help it, I’m sick.  So now I don’t know what to do.  For the time being I’m blaming it on the -10 degree weather and the fact that I’m still “adjusting.”  But I can only use these excuses for so long until I have to suck it up and face reality: that I’m probably doomed to be alone forever.  And just in the knick of time for Valentines Day (black holiday, as you will hear it commonly referred to by Lucky and myself.)

Speaking of Valentines day, I realized yesterday that I’m in the same, slightly modified, boat that I was last year.  Last year at Valentines Day I was figuring things out with Snoop-Linus after he had cheated on me a few weeks earlier, and when it came to V-Day weekend he ignored me because I asked him to come home with me to see one of my best friends who was in from out of town.  He said no because that would cut down on drinking time with his friends.  I went alone and stayed at home for the weekend and asked my 6 year old sister to be my Valentine.  She was the best Valentine I could’ve ever asked for, I bought her a Bratz doll and she got me candy and we watched movies all day.  Of course, as soon as I woke up on actual V-day last year (which was a Sunday if you all recall) when the drinking had commenced Snoop-Linus was asking me to dinner for that night because, “There’s no one he’d rather spend Valentines day with,” I don’t think I ever got an apology for being treated like shit and ignored all weekend; I just got a dinner, that I should’ve rejected.

So, in the memory of traditions I’m asking my little sister to be my Valentine again this year.  I’m going to drive my happy ass home tonight after work to play barbies and watch cartoons all weekend, and I couldn’t be happier about that decision.  If I ever find a guy who is OK with watching Disney movies and drinking chocolate milk with my sister and I on said black holiday, he might be in the running as a decent boyfriend.  This is all Neal Bledsoe’s fault.  We could be together right now.

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Can I get a count of hands of how many people thought:

1. That Lucky and I got in a fight and Cocktails at Tiffany’s was going to be Cocktail at Tiffany sans anything plural?

2. That I died

3. You didn’t even notice I was gone?

I’m sure it’s mostly the later.  Anywayyy, in case you were wondering a lot of stuff has happened these past few weeks.  I’ve almost died twice and had about 17 mental breakdowns about being a lonely cat lady for the rest of my life.  This convo even happened the other night:


Lucky: I know, I am so glad I don’t have a baby right now.

Me: Not me, I want a baby.  Because then someone would love me.

And I reiterate, “I want a baby because then someone would love me.” All. Time. Low.  It doesn’t help that I haven’t clearly seen the light of day in almost a week.

Everyone remember when like the whole country just got a wintery blast about a week ago?  My new big city is still recovering.  I was off work for 2 days. (Nothin’ wrong with that, holla.)

The night of le bliz-zard it took me nearly 4 hours to get home, and as soon as I walk in the door Anth and JM are shoving me right back out it to go to a bar because our power was out.  Heaven forbid we light the fireplace and some candles and have family game night.  No, we’ve got to get drunk.  So we do, and they go home with a couple of girls and I’m left to find my way home in this:

So I was drunk, I finally made the 2 mile hike home (I got a cab, he got stuck and kept the meter running so I gave him a $1 tip, in a blizzard, I’m an ass.) Anyway, I’m not sure what I expected to find when I woke up in the morning, but I didn’t really think the whole “blizzard” thing was going to pan out like everyone thought.  I was like ehh.. we’ll probably get like 10 inches, nbd.  When I opened the front door in the morning I quickly realized I was going no where:

So I parked it at home for the next 2 days.  Which somehow got me sick, and that brings us to today.  I’ve been sick for 9 days, and here it is my 4th week of work and I’ve taken yesterday and today off to recover from the super flu.  I really hope when I go back I still have a job since my boss didn’t answer her phone when I called in to leave the “I’m dying, hopefully be back tomorrow” voicemail.  So we’ll see.  I guess if they fire me I’d be ok with it, the big city is ok.  Honestly I’d rather be at home though.  Wahh wahh.  Poor Gizzy.

Anyway, mad props to Lucky for holding down the fort for the past month while I’ve gotten my life together.  That’s a friend/co-blogger.  I’ll try to get my funny up for the next post, but lets be honest, nothing about telling your readers you might be dying from living in 3 frat guys basement is funny.

Speaking of 3 frat guys and funny, I forgot to mention they had a super bowl party.  I forgot it mostly because I moaned and groaned and threw up in my mouth at the sight of all the sorostitutes they had over that wore going out clothes.  Yeah, for the super bowl.  They all had on high heels and costume jewelry.   The deal was all the girls that were coming make a dish, and each guy bring a case of beer.  It worked out well except the fact that my pores are seeping death so I went to the store bought a few things of chips and dip, a cheese plate, and some non-alcoholic beverages and called it a day.  Until I heard one of the whores whining about how, “Someone got lazy and bought their whole contribution.” No bitch, you do not come into my house and tell me I’m lazy.  You want me to make food? Ok, I’ll make some food and cough up something on it and we’ll see how much you like that.  And that’s exactly what happened when I went into the kitchen and “accidently” flipped my cheese plate over that she had no problem mowing down on her own.   So needless to say the prostitutes, I mean sorostitutes, boycotted the store bought non-homemade food.  Which is fine by me because now I have it to eat on my own and I’m sure there’s not semen in it (unlike some of the food they made I’m sure.)

So I’m learning this living situation isn’t going to last long.  I’m dying from living in a dungeon and I can’t stand being around the semen soaked whores they bring around.  Apartment hunting continued…

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And we’ll tell our children we met in front of the copy machine.

I’m back.  For good.  Totes.

I haven’t said much about my new job because up until today it was eh.  I came home every night exhausted and have had a mini-panic attack every morning on my way there.  There’s just so many numbers, I want to die.  Until yesterday, when things got interesting.

I noticed every time I went in for an interview there was this one guy who was pretty young but somehow had a big wig office.  It didn’t make sense.  Because in a company like this it’s all about loyalty and how long you’ve been there.  My boss has been there 40 years and this youngin’ has the same level of authority.  He is in a different department (but still only down the hall) so we were never formally introduced, but I think he’s hot, of course.  Plus he’s the only person on our floor even close to my age so why not make it interesting and have a work crush.

Today I walked in like any other day, had a meltdown at my desk, cried on top of my mound of paperwork, sucked it up and went on with my day.  I went to the copy machine to print out some emails when low and behold there stood big wig youngin’.  He grabbed his papers, glanced at me, walked around the corner, and then came back.  He. Came. Back.

“Hi are you the new girl over there? I’m Mike Hamanannananan.” And he shook my hand, I said uhh yep I’m Gizzy.  Then he made small talk about the school I went to and how he heard from “Mike” I was looking for a place up north and how he could be of some assistance because he just got a place up north and all that jazz.  I was kind of freaking out because durr a hot successful guy is talking to me and my mind has been mushed on college guys for the last 47 years.  I looked like a tard and went back to my desk.

I didn’t really think much of this little encounter until later on in the day when I was mulling around trying to look busy and the CFO approached me.  It went something like so:

CFO: Gizzzyyyyy… I’ve been wanting to talk to you, you know I know you’re looking for a place up north and my son just moved up there so if you needed some help he said he would be more than willing to show you the ropes and help you find a place.  Really just email me and let me know and this is how I could introduce you guys.

*CFO sees a light go off in Gizzy’s head as it appears to Gizzy that Mike is the CFO’s son, “Mike” is Mike senior, THAT’S how he got the big wig job, THAT’S how he already knows everything about me, and Dad is being matchmaker and Dad approves.

I didn’t tell CFO that I had already spoken to Mike and he is a big boy and came up and introduced himself on his own.  I figured I would just roll with the flow.  I mean IDK it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try and date a hot successful guy whose dad just happens to be the CFO at this big name company, right?  I just see where things are starting to line up and I’m ok with it.

I don’t know if Mike and CFO are just being nice and trying to help out a girl who is new to town or if Mike is just thankful to see someone young in the office.  I can’t imagine the business world with all these old fogies gets you a lot of dates/ass so I’m trying to figure out if I’m about to get taken advantage of or look like a huge fool.  You never know in these big cities, nice=corrupt round hurr.

I’m also running for Mayor.  So errybody vote for me!

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