Tag Archives: I’m a loser baby so why don’t you kill me

BACK!!!!!!!!!

Hey guys!

If you’re still reading this blog, THANK YOU. Once again, I apologize that we have gone missing. We are both still alive!!

I feel like everything has happened since 2014 even started, and then when I sit down to write about it, I don’t even know where to start or what to say.

Truthfully, the reason for me not blogging lately is because I’ve just been SOOOO busy. And no, I don’t mean that in the sense of, omg I’m so busy and I’m so kewl.

I mean that in, I have been working my ass off. I’m lucky (heh heh) if I get a few hours of sleep each night.

So, I suppose I’ll just start with that.

Remember Fatso? My coworker? Well, when I came back to work after the holiday break, he got fired. Seriously. The DAY we got back from a 2-week break, he was fired. Like I was here, in my office, and he got fired.

Okay, you get the point.

Well, I was kind of shocked and not surprised all at once, because, let’s face it, he was a little crazy.

But at the same time, stuff changed IMMEDIATELY. Not only was the energy in the office different, but our web team of 5 was knocked down to 4. One of those workers being a temp, so in March our team of 4 became 3.

And while that sounds exciting, guess who has been picking up the slack? THIS MOTHER FUCK.

Did I get a raise? Nope.

The part of Fatso’s job that I’m covering (and have been covering for 4 months) is a giant social media job that pretty much never stops.

I’m not going to lie to you, I have a little more respect for the guy now that I’m doing his dirty work.

And so, not only did the work at my day job pick up, but I’ve still had to maintain my busy freelance schedule so I can ay my bills and occasionally pay for some fun stuff.

So, things have been rough, to say the least.

But, I’m currently working on a plan to present to my boss to see if I can get a raise, therefore lowering some of my freelance workload. Has anyone out there ever done that?

I need all of the help, advice, and encouragement I can get.

HELP.

I promise, I’ll talk to you guys soon!!!

xoxo

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Why am I being punished?

Hey guys!!

I’m sorry it’s been forever—I have SO much to tell you & I promise, there is REASON for me not being around to tell y’all about my exciting life. However, we’ll get to that on a rainy day. Today, I’ve got a little story for you and I hope you’ll weigh in.

Exactly one week ago, I was a guest on my friend’s video podcast. It was a short 40-minute live comedy act and it was pretty funny. The audience was mostly men, and as soon as the show went off-air, some of these guys were texting my friend wanting to know who I was and if I was single.

Oooohhhh heeeeeyyy!!

So one of these guys, we’ll call him MAP, sends me a message on Facebook and after a few exchanges, he asks me for my number. We text a little more and then he asks me if I want to get a simple drink on Friday (yes, Valentine’s Day).

I say yes, and I was pretty excited about it.

At first, I got the vibe that this guy was genuine, nice, he has a good job, owns a condo, has a car, has a degree, is involved in a softball team, has a podcast…

Overall, I was thinking, “Hey, this guy has a life,” which is pretty attractive to me, because I’ve got a lot going on, too.

So, we meet up for drinks, and he orders a nice scotch, I got a vodka. We talked about work, our friends, things like that, but I noticed that he kept talking about his “Budget.”

Now, let’s get this straight. I, too, am on a budget. I get it. And I am NOT looking for someone who is going to swoop in and solve my money problems. However, my money issues are not something I talk about with people I’ve just met.

He was mentioning it so much, that I felt like I should pick up the tab.

So we have two drinks and leave the bar. He walks me to my door, and he goes in for the kiss, and he was holding me so tight I almost fell over. And the kiss… was very forced. Like there were (was?) teeth and tongue and I opened my eyes once because I was trying to pull away.

I went to my apartment with mixed feelings. He seemed nice, like a guy who’s got it all together, but that kiss was horrible…

However, he asked me if i wanted to hang out again and I said sure.

But since then, he’s been texting NON STOP.

Like, we’re talking, he texts me so often, I don’t even have time to answer the questions he is asking me. Sometimes, in a text, he will even ask me what time he should text me.

I don’t know what to do… I feel bad, but we’ve only been on one date and I am already feeling so smothered.

It’s one thing if we have lots to talk about, but it’s another thing, if it’s forced, and I feel like asking me questions like, “What are you having for lunch?” “What’s your political stance?” “Can you do any impressions?” is forced conversations.

Am I horrible? HELP.

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Time to lay on the couch.

Tomorrow, I meet with my therapist (Lopez) for the first time in a month.

He’s been trying to push my appointments back to once a month, but I protested, until now—I felt like things were going pretty good.

And I would say, for the most part, things are pretty good.

You might recall my post last week, which was basically a list of successes I’ve encountered just in the last month. Really exciting!

But over this last year, I’ve found that in moments of success like that, sometimes it’s even more difficult for me to put on a happy face.

I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’ve got one theory.

I feel like I get so excited over these personal victories, but then my high comes crashing to a halt when I realize I’ve got no one to share my success with.

Okay, maybe that’s a little bit dramatic.

I do have good friends.

But I don’t have that guy…you know; the one who’s going to come see me succeed, cheer me on, and tell me how proud of me he is.

Am I pathetic for wanting that?

Over the weekend, I was asked to participate in a literature event; where I would sell books, do an interview, and a reading.

Wow… that’s been one of my biggest dreams for almost 10 years.

I was giddy. And I pictured myself there. And it was amazing.

And then I pictured the event being over, and me, alone, packing up my things and driving home to Blanche, my cat, then me eating leftovers, and crawling into bed by myself.

Sad.

I know these things take time, and I know, I’ve been through a FUCK TON this year. My emotions are certainly changing every single day.

But I’m just ready for things to be even keel. I’m ready for things to be okay again.

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Wait for a Minute.

Anyone heard Justin Bieber’s new song, feat. Tyga, “Wait for a Minute”? …Because it is AWESOME.

Between hearing that on Friday and seeing The Biebs walk with Maywether to the ring, my love for Bieber has been rekindled. Not that it was on the rocks or anything.

BULGeRzIgAAvreF.jpg-large

Alright, enough of the bullshit, it’s time I come clean about me and this trainer. Here is what you need to know. His name is CR and he is a professional fighter and he’s really, really hot.

I want to post a picture of his naked body for you; but he has many distinctive tattoos that would give him away. After all, he was on a reality TV show last year.

When he started training at my gym, I was still dating D. I took a few of his classes, but honestly didn’t think much of it.

And then when D and I broke up, I thought he was cute. Then I thought he was kinda hot. Then I thought he was sexy as hell.

You know how it is.

At the gym, he would always talk to Marcy, but not me, so I thought maybe he was into her. Then one day he asked me why I never took his class.

“I do,” I said.

And that was that.

Then around mid-August, we added each other on Facebook.

That’s also the same time I discovered he was engaged.

A few days later, at the gym, I told him he was a pussy—really just kidding around. He told me I would pay for it during my next workout.

And he kicked. My. Ass.

“This is all your fault,” he said.

The next day, he sent me a message on Facebook saying he hoped I wasn’t sore…

Two days later, we had phone sex.

We started sending nasty sexts to each other—(in no order):

CR: That ass will be in my hands pulling down

ME: I want to get on top so you can touch

CR: I have my hands on that ass while you wrap ya legs around me against the wall

…Since then, we’ve sent nearly 8,000 messages to each other, including pictures, and we’ve had sex a handful (pun intended) of times.

I know, you’re probably ready to throw your computer or mobile device out the window right now, saying: LUCKY!!!! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?! HAVEN’T YOU BEEN HERE BEFORE?? YOU’RE INVITING BAD KARMA YOUR WAY…

Yes, yes I know.

I don’t have answers for you.

The only thing I can say is that I’m blaming it on D. I just couldn’t have him be the last person I slept with.

And although CR is engaged AND living with his fiancee, I can say without a doubt, he is THE hottest guy I’ve ever fucked, and it’s some of the best sex I’ve ever had.

That’s nothing to feel bad over, right?

I don’t feel an emotional attachment like I did when I was sleeping with the married guy…which is good.

I hate to say it, but I feel pretty bitter about men these days, so it doesn’t surprise me that CR is willing to cheat on his gorgeous-pharmacist of a fiancee. Because he’s a guy and that’s what guys do, right?

So, if he’s going to cheat, it may as well be with me.

Let the haters, hate.

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Part two: the bar fight.

After getting the DWI, D was terrified he would lose his job. After all, he’d been drinking while on the job and he was driving home when he got pulled over for swerving all over the roads.

But when he got to work, they told him the entire thing was bullshit, and not to worry, because they would hire him the best DWI attorney in the state. When D told me this, I was extremely concerned. He was getting a free ride and wasn’t going to learn the lesson I’d hoped.

I told D I was really concerned and I didn’t know if I could handle our relationship if the drunken drama continued. I was worried for him and for us. He promised me he would cut back on drinking.

For about two weeks, he did.

One Sunday after work, D invited me to come over.

“Oh by the way, Hunter hit my truck,” he texted me before I arrived.

When I got to D’s house, Hunter (a waiter at the restaurant) was sitting on the patio, hammered. D was drinking Crown from a styrofoam cup.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

According to the guys, D had had two cocktails at work and was afraid to drive home, so he asked Hunter to follow him. Hunter, being too drunk to drive, swerved off the road, over-corrected, and hit D’s truck.

“What happened to not drinking and driving?” I asked.

“I had two drinks and, believe me, I was scared to,” D said.

I was pissed. Here we were, two weeks out from an arrest, and he was drinking and driving again. I left and went home.

The next day, a Monday, D was heading an hour away to a second restaurant location. He was joining a server, the other manager and the chef to see if this server (Bobby) wanted to come on as a manager. Bobby drove them, they ate a free meal, I’m assuming they had lots of drinks, and left.

Around 1:30 a.m., D calls me, excited to tell me that him and Bobby got in a fight and roughed up about 9 other guys.

According to D, him and Bobby left the restaurant and it was Bobby’s idea to step into a nearby bar where they saw an Arabic man sitting alone. Because Bobby and D both know Arabic (a fact I didn’t know), they decided to talk to him.

Again, according to D, they didn’t say anything offensive, and out of nowhere this guy pulls a knife out and holds it up to D’s neck. D then flipped him over the table, causing a group of other guys running to the scene and joining in.

D and Bobby were kicked out of the bar, and D was trying to tell me just how “cool” it was when he flipped this guy over the table.

I told him I didn’t think it was cool at all, that it was actually quite trashy, and he didn’t need to be out getting in fights. He is a dad and was just arrested two weeks before.

D was drunk, at a Waffle House, and couldn’t even tell me what city he was in. I told him we needed to have a serious talk later and hung up.

The next day, I told D that the only thing I could think to say or do was to give him an ultimatum. Any more drunken antics and I was out. He said he didn’t want to lose me and that was that.

That night, D got a call from the owner of his restaurant. The Arabic guy came into the restaurant and filed a complaint against D and Tommy. The shopping center threatened to close down the restaurant. D’s job was on the line…

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When a 6-year-old hates you.

Last Friday night, D told me he had to go out of town for work on Monday, and would be late picking up his daughter from the bus stop.

He asked if I’d be willing to pick her up and entertain her until about 6 p.m., when he got home. I said I would only do it if she wanted me to. So he said he’d call her on Saturday and find out what she wanted to do.

In the 24 hours that passed, I started thinking that if she wanted me to pick her up, we could finally complete the craft I’d gotten supplies for: decorating buckets to plant flowers in (I even bought flowers and potting soil). When D got home, he could make us dinner, and it would be a fun evening. D agreed that it would give me and E a chance to bond.

On Saturday night, D and I went out to meet a few of his friends and have a margarita. Mid-drink, I asked him if he talked to E.

“Yeah…um…my mom is just going to pick her up,” he said. “She really wasn’t too keen on you picking her up.”

I hung my head. “Oh,” I said.

The tears started to well-up in the rims of my eyes. I was heartbroken.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It makes me really sad,” I said. “I didn’t think she liked me, but this just drives it right home that she doesn’t. I was really hoping she’d want me to pick her up.”

“Baby, don’t be upset,” he said. “She just likes for me to pick her up. She really wasn’t excited about my mom picking her up either.”

I stirred my drink.

“This is completely new for her,” he said. “She likes you, she’s just not ready to be with you one-on-one.”

I tried to just put it all out of my head, drink my tequila, and move on, but I was really upset. I understand this is new for her, but it’s new for me, too. I’ve never dated anyone with a child, and I’ve really never been around kids, so I don’t know how to act, and it’s frustrating.

The fact that she doesn’t like me is a strike against me. No matter how great a girlfriend I can be for D, the love of his life doesn’t like me. And I get it, if I were her, I wouldn’t like me either.

Because I can be honest here, I’ll tell you, that since this conversation, I don’t want to be around her at all. I feel like the evil stepmother. I understand that if I don’t spend time with her, she won’t get to know me and she’ll never like me. But if she doesn’t like me, I don’t want to be somewhere that I’m not wanted. I don’t want to intrude on daughter-father time.

I’m really torn. I like D, and I think our relationship is going to be around for awhile, so what do I do?

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Go away.

Friday night, I participated in the usual activities of drinking until I am stupid. After drinking a few margaritas, Marcy and I, along with the usual guys headed to the bar.

I was thinking, “OH, I’ll just have a few beers, stumble home, hit the sack, and be up early enough to go to the gym tomorrow morning…”

Yeah… no.

I really did only have a few beers, but I also had a few shots… I remember swallowing a red snapper, a soco/lime (one of my favorites), and a jager bomb. Oy.

Naturally, mid drink-fest-dance-off, Joel decides, once again, to talk about “us.”

Let me refresh your memory. Me and Joel is not a thing. Ever since I’ve seen how much of a drama-starter he is, that was just the icing on the cake for me—hell no. Yet, every time we drink together “us” comes up in conversation.

Yeah dude, I get it. You don’t want to be with me. You wish you did. And hey, I don’t want to be with you either, so why are we talking about this again?

So around 1:30, we all head to Marcy’s, the typical plan, because even though we’ve all been drinking since 6 pm, we just can’t seem to stop. This is where things with Joel always get stupid. Because he tells me and tells me just how much he doesn’t want to be with me, and then we get in the same bed together and shit happens.

To avoid this, as soon as I cracked open my beer I told Marcy I was sleeping in her bed, even if she didn’t like it. And that is what I did.

Joel even found it necessary to come into Marcy’s room and kiss me (on the forehead) goodnight.

Whatever.

Saturday was non-eventful, although I didn’t wake up in time to go to the gym, I hit the showers and started drinking again, because I have a serious problem. I took a 3 -hour nap and rolled out of bed in time to see the 9 pm showing of Safe Haven (SO GOOD). It was just me and a box of Butterfinger Minis in a sea of couples. But it’s whatevs.

Sunday, I was really just trying to rest and hydrate and relax because this week (has been and) will be, a little bitch. However, I still wanted to go to the open mic night, if anything to get out of the house. So I did. And I read a poem. And the music was great. And I danced. And sang.

And then, I heard a familiar voice right behind my neck.

The creepy, crazy, stalker, texter, rapper.

I hadn’t seen him in weeks. I quickly gathered my belongings, held them close to me, and waited for the last performer to finish. I dropped my tip money into the jar and looked toward the only way out—the front door. And there he was. Standing. Waiting.

He turned his back and I made my move, walking briskly. And as soon as I got to the door, he turned and waved. I said hello. Then he asked, “How was your V-Day?”

Seriously?

What did he want me to say? That it was horrible and I sat around and cried and thought about killing myself and then I realized that I’d made a horrible, horrible mistake and he was the one I was missing and would he like to go out for coffee and work things out because I can’t, I just can’t, go on without him?

Instead, I told him it was wonderful, and that I somehow managed to get a boyfriend, get engaged, married, and pregnant on the same day.

So yeah.

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