Tag Archives: merdie

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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