Tag Archives: my friends screwed me

Flip me the {foam} finger.

It’s only Tuesday, and I was completely dreading getting out of bed this morning. It’s the first morning in three days that my liver hasn’t actually hurt from all of the alcohol I consumed this weekend in attempts to get over The Has Been Matt McFaggot. As horrible as it sounds, it worked for the most part.

Until I had a dream about him last night. Ugh.

But my story today isn’t about that. It’s about a foam finger.

It all started two weeks ago when things were starting to get rocky with the has been Matt McFaggot. I had been eyeing a foam finger on the website for his favorite football team. I really wanted to get him one for the first tailgate. So in the midst of our little tiff, I marched over to the sports shop on my lunch break and found the foam finger, along with the ever-so-cool foam CLAW (go bearcats). I stood there forever, finger in one hand, claw in the other.

Finger? Or claw? Finger? Or claw? Finger. No, no. Claw. Finger. Hrrmmm…

My gut went with the finger because it’s a classic sports souvenir. And it’s originally what I wanted. So I stood in line with two fingers—one for me, one for McFaggot.

It’s finally my turn, I’m watching out the window to see if my car gets towed, and the sales lady can’t find the finger button on the cash register.

“Is it under ‘finger’?” she asked the salesman.

“Uh yeah probably.”


“I can’t find it…would it be under ‘foam finger’?”

The salesman walks over and they scroll together mumbling “foam”…”f-o-a-m finger.”

They eventually find it, and $20 later, everyone in line behind me wants to shove the two fingers up my ass. But I skip to my car, which thank god wasn’t towed. So later that night, McFaggot is on his way over and I am standing by my front door with a foam finger on each of my hands (I’m the original McFaggot). When he knocks on my door, I open it and wave at him via the double foam fingers.

We both get a laugh, and all is great in the world. We took our fingers tailgating, where they enjoyed beer and nachos, and had great seats for the game. But then, McFaggots finger was carelessly tossed aside in McFaggot’s truck, never to be seen again. I laid my foam finger down for a nap on top of my dryer for the week, until the next game.

Friday night rolls around, and I’m out with Anne and her friends, including this chick Misha. I tell Anne I am totes bringing foam finger on our tailgating extravaganza Saturday morning.

“Aw yes! Didn’t you buy two?”

Me: “Ugh, YES, but McFaggot has the other one!!”

Anne: “Dammit!”

Me: “I knoooow. I wish I didn’t give it to him, then I would totally let you have it.”

Misha: “Don’t you hate that? When you give someone something cool and you never see ’em again.”

Me & Anne: “Ugh. Totally.”

Saturday morning, me and foam finger are ready to get our drAnk on. Misha and Anne are completely mesmerized by how fun foam finger is—he really knows how to party. We all decide foam finger needs a thumb, so it can hold my beers better.

Before we know it, it’s game time. We are making our way to the stadium, when Anne and Misha see a kiosk that has foam fingers and the claw. They each buy a claw, and we are on our way. We were sitting in Anne’s seats, which are box seats—free food, alcohol, local celebrities and has been 90s musicians. Totally my scene.

So I’m loading up on nachos, hot dogs, beer, it’s a grand ole time. I notice next to us is a mom and dad and two pretty cute little boys. Misha, who is obsessed with kids, hands her claw to one of the boys. He is fascinated. I felt bad that the other little boy didn’t have a toy, so I offered to share foam finger. The dad says, “Thanks! We will give them back to you at the end of the game.”

Worst mistake of my adult life. And I’m only 25.

So both of the boys are having a blast with claw and finger. Anne comes back from the beer stand and says, “Lucky…you gave that kid your finger?”

“Yeah…well, I didn’t GIVE it to him. He’s giving it back.”

Anne: “But you hate kids.”

Me: “I know. I must be super drunk.”

The game clock is winding down to go-time and it looks like the kid nor the dad are going to return my foam finger. I tell Anne, “I’m scared the dad won’t give me back the finger.”

Misha: “Lucky, they’re kids. I’m letting them keep the claw.”

Me: “Umm I’m not Goodwill. That’s MY finger!”

Anne: “Don’t worry, I’ll just ask the dad for it when we leave, I don’t mind.”

So we get up to leave and Anne stays back to get the finger. I start making my way to the elevator, where there are ushers in suits. Anne meets me at the elevator, foam finger in hand.

Me: “You got it?”

Anne: “Yeah! I just said ‘hey can we get the finger back?’ and the dad said ‘yeah no problem!'”

Me: “Good!”

We are waiting for our turn to get on the elevator, when the dad comes running around the corner and grabs Anne.

Dad: “HEY! Thanks for making my kid cry.”

Anne: “What?”

Dad: “Ha! Yeah! You made my 5-year-old kid cry.”

I see this nonsense, and walk over to the dad.

Me: “Don’t yell at her. It’s my fault. I wanted it back.”

Dad: “Do you really care THAT MUCH about a foam FINGER?”

Me: “First of all…it was $10. Second of all, it’s not MY KID.”

The dad gets out his wallet and starts sifting through dollar bills.

Me: “No. You can have it.”

I throw the foam finger at the dad. He picks it up. Then, he lunges at me, THROWING the finger and the claw. I leave both of them on the floor, cross my arms, and yell, “FUCK. YOU.”

At this point, people are staring, and Misha rounds the corner. She sees the scene and tells the dad he can keep her claw. I get on the elevator, leaving foam finger without a proper goodbye.

I was pissed. I was simply trying to be nice to a kid, who obviously gets whatever he wants when he throws a temper tantrum. I can tell you one thing, if someone gave me a toy, my parents would give it back no matter what kind of fit I threw, because I’m not a spoiled brat. Secondly, if you have the money to sit in box seats, then fucking buy your kids the shit they want and don’t leave it up to college graduates living off beer and corn chips, ok????

There’s so many better outcomes that could have occurred. The dad could’ve said, “hey my kid is really loving the finger, can I pay you for it?” And I would’ve said, no it’s cool, keep it. Or the dad could’ve told the son, “hey buddy! You’re a spoiled little bitch so I’ll buy you one myself!”

So now, I spend my nights thinking about foam finger. Did he sleep under the covers with mini McFaggot? Does he miss the other foam finger? Is he in a toy box with foam claw? Poor foam finger. You lived a good life.

Later, when Misha returned, she told me when she gave her claw away, she told the dad “it was no big deal,” when he said he’d give them back. I said I didn’t give shit, I paid for it, and it’s not my fault he was having careless sex and had a kid that grew up to be a foam finger stealing asshole.

Now, I’m in the market for a new foam finger that little kids won’t need. Such as:


Now that I’m equally pissed about foam finger today than I was three days ago, that will be all.

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Buttons goes on vacay with a 40-year-old Lezzie.

Nothing like a guest blogger to get the day started, right? Remember my friend Buttons, who commented on the bridal show debacle—they should’ve given me a brown wristband because I’m such a piece of shit? Well, she’s here. And after a pep talk, she wrote a hilarious blog for us on her recent vacay with a 40-year-old lezzie (not that there’s anything wrong with that), named Toni. Enjoy it, kids!

So my pal Lucky asked me to write a lil blog about my  trip to Myrtle Beach last week.  She enjoyed the updates and pictures through texts all week—she didn’t want you guys to miss out.

Let’s start off with a few weeks before the trip. My pal Candy had been bugging me to get away and visit our friend Cookie who had recently moved into a condo on the beach. I was reluctant at first because I have little vacation time to spare, but eventually I selected some days in August and said “let’s go!”  I was actually getting pretty pumped about the trip and planning things we would do while we were there, shopping, eating, drinking, dinner theaters and of course the beach and pool.

A few days later I woke up and read my text’s everything was fine until I got to the last message from Cookie ” What if I had another friend that would drive down w/ you guys? What would you say to some extra gas $$$?” In my head I thought WTF why? I have a history of getting fucked over when i go on vacation…. First thought: VEGAS 2 years ago. I shared a suite with 18 filipinos, saw people having sex, saw random drugs, slept about 1 hour in 3 days , and heard someone barfing all night . I know this is normal in Vegas and I’m probably a big prude but, sharing a bed with 3-4 strangers is NOT my idea of fun.

Next vacation, somehow ended up sharing a bed with a 18 year old little boy (my friend’s sister’s boyfriend) and then taking him back to his school. UGH. If I would learn to say no these things wouldn’t happen to me. BUT instead of no I asked Candy what she thought about it. Of course she thought it would be fine because she has never had these amazing experiences.

My reply to Cookie: ” Haha I don’t care, as long as they aren’t weird!!! We are leaving Tuesday night after work and driving halfway. Who is this friend and do we know them?”

Cookie: ” She’s a friend from school-she’s older a bit strange but very nice person”

So some time went by and I didn’t think too much about the stranger until Candy calls and tells me she found the friend on Facebook and I should probably take a look. Well of course I did and the picture was enough for me to cancel the trip. When I saw the pictures on her profile all I could think about was being in the middle of nowhere on the way to the beach and this crazy holding us hostage and raping Candy and I.

Lesbian hair cut, check, motorcycle, check, WOLF TATTOO on her breast, check, 40 years old with no boyfriend check check check. I was staring at the biggest butch lesbian I had ever seen and I was about to take a vacation with her.

F-U-C-K!!!! Of course, what do I do? Take a picture of her picture on my phone and forward it to everyone I know and get everyone’s opinion on if I should go. Of course most people said no. So my plan: NOT GOING. I was really hesitant to tell Candy because I knew she was gonna be pissed. So when the time finally came around we went to dinner with a few mutual friends, I brought out the picture on my phone and told them all about it and then told Candy “No way, I am not going.”  She was pretty upset and said whatever.

Over the next few days she somehow talked me back into going. She told me ” It’s just a 12 hour car ride. We don’t have to be her friend. When we get there she doesn’t have to hang out with us. We will do our own thing. It will be like she’s not even there. You never know she could be the nicest person ever and you will become friends.” I said ” you know what whatever I am not in the market for new friends, she better not piss me off I will leave her at a truck stop and I swear to god we will not hang out with her. I am already worried when we stop for gas people will think we are a couple.”

The next few days I was dreading the trip. Of course Candy adds this person (TONI what a fitting name, you know could be a boy or a girl, or both.) to Facebook. AND of course they write back and forth and Candy thinks she’s nice. WHATEVER.

Finally it’s time to get on the road. Toni lives about an hour away, toward where we were going. So Candy and I had time to talk about stuff before we picked her up. I refused to talk to Toni and made Candy do all the planning of when and where we would pick her up because I wanted nothing to do with it. So we meet her at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, her parents were dropping her off. We spot her, no surprise since I had been stalking her pictures but of course she packs a bag big enough for a 3 week European vacation. She throws it in and we hit the road.

We all talk and it’s not going to bad.  I thought  OK maybe I was overreacting and it won’t be too horrible. I was however surprised when she said she was interested in BOYS and that she loved it when people called her a COUGAR. Um whatever hunny you aren’t getting boys your age let alone younger good looking ones, so keep dreaming. Also, I was very surprised at her occupation. An athletic trainer? Really? Who would hire a 350 LB athletic trainer. I thought that was a bit odd. Not only was she an athletic trainer but apparently she thought she was a doctor because she was trying to diagnose every damn person we came in contact with.

The trip was going fine until about 2 am when I was looking for a place to stop and we hit a serious traffic jam and sat for like 2 hours. Toni was bitching that we should have stopped back at the last exit. Well you know what? We didn’t … and do you know what else? I am driving and this is my car so shut the fuck up. She kept rolling down the windows. I said um i don’t think that is a good idea it’s like 95 degrees outside and there are creepy truckers. Of course she doesn’t listen and continues to bitch about not stopping. Finally we start going and then I find a place to stop for the night.

Of course Toni gets her own bed because I sure as hell wasn’t sleeping with her. I was so tired and started to fall asleep when she started snoring. UHHHH really?!??! OF course she snores sooo loud. I wake around 6:30 and Candy was awake too. I whispered, ” let’s go to breakfast.” So we snuck out and enjoyed some coffee and continental breakfast while talking about Toni.

After breakfast we go back to the room and pack up. Toni mentions nothing about paying for part of the hotel she slept in and had a whole bed to herself.

Day 2—in the car was not as smooth as day one. Toni liked to talk about NOTHING, it took her 30 minutes to get a damn story out about how she likes to eat pizza.. and guess what? No one gives a fuck, thanks for wasting my time. She also likes to mention that she has been driving for 24 years and loooves to drive. I thought why didn’t you drive your own damn car down here by your damn self then? The thing is.. I am control freak. I do not like it when other people drive. I drove the whole way down there but, told Shelby that she could drive some on the way home.

We finally get to our destination and I am pumped to hit the beach. We get to the beach and Candy and Cookie and I are all laying out and I open my eyes to see Toni hovering over me and Candy taking pictures of us laying out. UHHHHH What is she going to do with those? ANYWAY. After the beach everyone headed back to get ready for our evening out. Candy and Cookie wore dresses I wore nice jeans and a sparkly top. Toni however put on her nicest sleeveless polo, khaki shorts and hot pink and blue WATER SHOES. UHHhhhh really?!?!?! I wouldn’t wear water shoes to the beach, let alone out to dinner and a bar.

We headed out to dinner where we all decided to have a bunch of appetizers and share them. When the bill came…guess who got screwed over? Yep that’s right it was me. Everyone pitched in a $20 and then Toni decided she would grab a $5 out of the stack. Why she thought that was right when she ordered 3 appetizers I will never know. I handed my debit card and paid the remaining $52.20. Thanks guys.  After that we hit up a local bar, which was 50-70 year old people grinding on each other. Disgusting.

Later I noticed a group of 30 something attractive guys. Toni proceeded to tell me that they were looking at us because they were checking her out. I thought really? You think they are checking you out. Well actually they are probably laughing at your water shoes. She then works up the nerve to go strike up a chat with one of them. She says “Hey i was wondering how that magnetic bracelet works for you.” Apparently he gave her a shitty look and he was standing there looking at her. You want to know why? Because in fact it was not a magnetic bracelet, it was a David Yurman bracelet. UGH! How embarrassing.

She then decided to take more creepy pictures of us and commented on how my shirt made my cleavage look good. ENOUGH I was going home. We all left and she decided to take a stroll on the beach. When she got back to the apartment she bent over to get something and that’s when I saw her wet crotch on her khaki shorts. Really? Did she piss her pants at the bar or what? It wasn’t because she was she was wastey, she only had like one drink. Whatever.

Day 3—Candy and I snuck out and went and got breakfast and talked about Toni. We headed back to the apartment and then got ready for the beach. While we were at the beach, Cookie asked us what we were going to do when she had to work later. I told her we were going to Medieval times blah blah blah. Candy and I left the beach and went to the pool where Toni later joined us and asked “So you guys are going out tonight? Am I invited or what?”

I said absolutely nothing. Because Yes I am mean, but i didn’t want to straight up tell her no. So I thought nothing was better. Candy decided to chime in ” Well if you want then yeah!” I shot her a look from hell then got on my phone bought 2 tickets and announced that I had just purchased two and only two tickets for the 7 o clock show. End of that. Had a great time at the show then the mall and came back.

Day 4—Candy and I woke up at about 6:30 again. I normally hate getting up this early but i looooved the fact that it woke Toni up and pissed her off. So I proceeded to get dressed loudly then head out to breakfast and go shopping with Candy. After the shopping trip, we came home and Toni was talking about someone looking like a man. I mouthed/ said to Candy… So do you. Toni saw me. Whatever. We hit up a local seafood restaurant where she inhaled about 3 fried corn on the cobs. Disgusting.  I don’t remember too much after this but we went to a huge outdoor mall/entertainment place and had a few drinks then did some shopping where Toni purchased a huge picture of Betty Boop… how cute. Then she bitched about what to have for dinner. I was then informed that she had her nips pierced. Enough info. I continued to ignore practically everything she said for the rest of the evening.

Day 5—LAST DAY!!!! Yay! Although I did have a lot of fun with Candy and Cookie I was ready to drop this bitch off at her house and never see her again. Since we had a twelve hour car ride I wanted to hit the road early. Candy wanted to stay longer however. I said fine but we will be out of here by 11. Around 10 everyone decides they want doughnuts. Whatever.  We then talked a little about the trip back and I said Candy would probably drive  first and I was nervous not because she was a bad driver but because I’m a bit of a control freak. Toni responds with ” Uhh yeah i could have told you that.”

WHAT?! You know me five fucking minutes and you think you know me?! Um no. Mind ya damn business. We eat and then its about 10:45 I announce. OK I hope everyone is ready, we need to leave soon. Nothing happens. So I carry one bag down and come up and everyone is just sitting there. Finally Toni gets the point and asks for my car keys.  She comes up and sees I have a few more bags and says to me ” I don’t know where that’s gonna go there’s not much room in the back now.” I thought EXCUSE ME?! Are you fucking kidding me right now!? You invited yourself on this damn trip you haven’t paid for one thing, you bought a bunch of shit down here filled up the back of MY car and then tell me there’s no room for my stuff?! You have goootttt to be kidding me!?!? I then grab my stuff storm out get in the driver’s seat of my car and call Lucky and scream to her that I am about to throw this bitch’s stuff out of my car and drive home alone. Candy comes down and tells me everyone is waiting inside to say bye and I should suck it up and go inside then we will leave.

I go upstairs say bye, thank you, sorry I was a bitch, but I had a great time. Toni comes down and tells Cookie, ” Yeah I’ll probably do a lot of driving today.” To which I scream “DON”T COUNT ON IT!!!!” Everyone gets in the car and I say nothing. I get on the phone with Lucky and chat for a while because someone is about to die. The entire trip Candy and I chatted to ourselves and took turns driving. No one talked to Toni. Sometimes she would chime in with her dumbass comments and annoy me but i just ignored her. She kept bitching about how her phone was dying. I of course ignore her more until she asks… “Is your phone still on the charger?” I said “YEP” and that was it. She bossed us around some and told us how our driving sucked and she’s been driving as long as we have been alive. WHATEVER I was counting down the minutes until we dropped her off. It was raining really hard and we kept having to turn the defroster on. She complained that she was hot and kept rolling down the windows. At this point I was completely pissed every time she asked me to turn the air on I would turn the heat on. I know it was 90 degrees outside but this shit was pissing me off and she wasn’t going to have control over the car.

ANYWAY. We finally were close to her house and I was SO happy! She gave Candy shitty directions and we finally arrived and drove past her house. Candy then backed up in the middle of the road turned the flashers on, got out and threw all of her stuff in a pile on the street. I stayed in the car. There would be no hug, no nice to meet you, no I had a great time. Candy said “Have a nice night!” and jumped back in. We were off! The last hour of the car ride was the best hour all day. I will never take a random stranger on vacation with me again. Sayonara Bitch!!

*Editor’s note: After she finished her entry, Buttons told me she wanted you all to know that no, Toni did not say thank you.

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I take 10s and 20s.

As of 11:30 last night, I sold my last piece of (physical) baggage (from my cheating trashy bastard ex) on Ebay for $75. And I’m pretty effing pumped about it. It was a sterling silver ring that my ex got me for Christmas last year—the first real Christmas I’ve had with a boyfriend, and the first piece of jewelry I’ve gotten from a man (other than my dad). The ring meant a lot to me, but I haven’t worn it since we broke up. And I really didn’t want to be reminded of how horrible he really treated me. It was worth about $130, but since I didn’t pay for it, anything I got would be icing on the cake. With the cash, I’m definitely treating myself to something awesomely hott.

I’m thinking boots.

Anyway, so I was out and about Saturday night with a few of my girlfriends. We were all sitting at the bar, hitting on the various hot bartenders that were out that night. This guy comes up in between me and my friend Leslie to introduce himself. Understandably, I don’t remember his name. Anyway, he was doing the usual talk about what do I do for a living, etc. I told him I was an editor, which everyone thinks is glamorous or something and it’s totally not, so I asked him what he did.

“Well,” he said. “I’m a waiter at Kona Grill.”

Me: “Oh ok, that’s a yummy place.”

“Yeah, it is. What do you like to get there.”

Me: “Umm, I’d have to go with the macadamia encrusted chicken and smashed taters.”

Now, I wouldn’t have had this conversation had I been sober. Call me stuck up 😉 , but it isn’t often I discuss baked chicken with men I just met. After the macadamia chicken, it was obvious this conversation was going downhill. Luckily, Mr. Kona took his signal to bow out gracefully.

“Well, let me just give you my…”

This part of our conversation seemed to move in slow motion, because it was probably the most glorious thing ever. While he is reaching into his wallet, I’m praising the heavens because I don’t have to give this guy my number, he is obviously going to give me his card, and I will toss it. End of story. So he reaches in, grabs a card, and hands it to me.

“Thanks, nice to meet you…” I say.

He walks away and I look down at the card, which was plastic.

$10 Gift Card to Kona Grill


How effing cool is that? I basically got paid in Kona dollars to talk to some dude for 5 minutes. Do I know his name? No. Will I recognize him when I go use my $10? Absolutely not. But I will enjoy my chicken…damn, I wish I got $10 for every guy who hit on me.

In other news, I found a new favorite comedian—Rachel Feinstein.

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Too busy? Get a day planner, dick.

Well it’s an amazing Monday morning here in hell. Somehow I managed to make it through the weekend after I was put to shame on the cross of singledom. More on that in a bit.

My weekend kicked off with a lonely night—I went to a concert ALONE. Yep, like a fucking loser. I was planning to go to the show with Slutsky and another girlfriend, but needless to say I didn’t want anything to do with Slutsky and my other friend backed out at the last minute. I had already bought my ticket AND it’s one of my favorite bands, so I still wanted to go. Once, I got there, I figured no one would notice I was there alone because the place was packed. I grabbed a beer and found a spot behind a group of people and everything was fine…


“So you’ve been standing by yourself for the last 4 minutes…what’s up with that?”

Me: “You gotta problem with it?”

“No, I was just curious…”

Me: “I’m a big girl, I can stand by myself.”

“You can stand with us.”

Me: “I don’t need a pity party.”

I ended up standing with them and they were cool, but damn, I didn’t think it was that obvious that I was alone. Anyway, I’m still glad I went to the show because it was one of their best performances. Everything was going good until the last song, things started to get pretty wild. Mid-song, the singer is looking down into the front row and says, “Stop! We need a medic up here…no, seriously this girl is hurt.” He then motions for this girl to get on stage, so she climbs up there and everything seems cool.

Until she turned around to face the crowd. Her face was covered in blood. From my spot, I thought she was missing her left eye. The entire venue let out a huge gasp, then screams. The girl was ushered off the stage and got help. From what I heard later, she had a gash above her eyebrow, possibly from being pushed into the stage or a speaker. Talk about a buzz kill though—I do not handle blood well, so I was glad the concert was over.

On the drive home, I had reached my emotional limit. For some reason that’s unbeknownst to me, I’ve been having dreams and flashbacks of my ex all week and it’s awful. I want him to go away so bad. Can Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind really happen? Because I need it. I guess spending a night out alone wasn’t really a great idea, but at least I’m trying. I made it home and fell asleep for a few hours, until my phone rang—my new guy. We talked for a bit and he ended the conversation as such:

“Well it’s almost 5 am, I will call you tomorrow when I wake up.”

Me: “Sounds good, bye.”

After doing random shit around my apartment Saturday, I hear from the new guy at 4 pm. Really? Considering he had to work at 6, I went on with my day as usual. However, thoughts started creeping in my head. My dating history is filled with bullshit like this. As Gizzy reminded me yesterday, I’m attracted to guys who work hard—sometimes too hard. I’d say 85% of my failed relationships are because the guy says he is just too busy for me (read: he’s just not that into me).

Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to see the person I’m dating everyday. However, seeing them once a week and getting blown off because he’s “too tired” is completely lame and I’m so sick of hearing it.

I had plans to go out with one of my girlfriends that night and the new guy said he would put us on the list at his bar. I went out with my girl, but she decided to bolt early to go see her boyfriend. Awesome. However, my friend Morgan (who’s a guy) said he was out and wanted to meet up. When I find him, he’s with two guys I’ve never met. I tell them we should go to the bar because I promised my guy I’d go see him. So I find New Guy and get a beer, then sit at a table with Morgan & Co. I wondered if NG would be mad that I brought guys in…however, he’s made it clear that we aren’t exclusive, so I didn’t feel like I needed to answer to him. To my surprise, NG brings over a round of free shots for us—I figure all is good.

Then I go to pay my tab, because the bar is closing.

NG: You look pissed.

Me: No, I’m just a little paranoid about driving home.

NG: Why, are you wasted?

Me: No, but I’ve had a few beers.

NG: Oh, well, what are you about to do tonight?

Me: It’s 2:15. I’m about to go home and sleep.

NG: Well, my phone is dead. And I’ll probably get home around 5 or 6, right ladies? (gestures to female bartenders)

Me: Ok, well…

NG: It was good seeing you.

Ummm WHAT THE FUCK?!?! It was good seeing you? We’ve seen each other naked and THAT’S what I get? I was totally confused. Either he’s fucking the other bartenders, or…he’s fucking the other bartenders. I went home and went to bed—I had a bridal show to wake up for.

In the morning, I met up with my girlfriend who is getting married. Even my cynical self is very happy for her, and since I’m going to be in her wedding, I want to be helpful, so I jumped at the chance to go to this bridal show. Once we got there, we had to register. We gave her our tickets and the humiliation began.

“Which one of you is getting married?”

GF: Me

“Ok I need you to fill this out. Name, e-mail address, and the date of the wedding.”

GF fills out the form, reaching the end, where the wedding date goes.

GF: (mumbling to self) “It’s July, ok 7, July 8th, 20…11. Geez I can’t even remember my own wedding date!”

Keep in mind that my friend has only been engaged for about a month. But at this moment, the lady at the registry desk was in utter shock that someone, could not remember the date of her wedding. Once her breath came back, she gave the us the appropriate wrist bands—hot pink for the bride-to-be…

And green for the slimy single girl.

Seriously. God fucking dammit.

As my friend Buttons said, “Why didn’t they just give you brown, like you’re a piece of shit?!”

Once we entered the bridal show, I saw the wristbands in action. Pink, to the vendors, meant money. So my friend was hounded by vendors, food, and giveaways. While, I on the other hand, was reaching for the wedding cake samples with my non-branded arm. Because my arm may has well be rotting off with disease, since I’m obviously a hideous mutant who is NEVER going to get married, so no I shouldn’t try your chocolate covered strawberries, or your raspberry champagne, or get a free Bridal magazine. I needed to get out.

I was relieved when it was over. I went home and had a text-chat with NG.

Me: I feel like you aren’t a huge fan of me at the moment

NG: Honestly, I feel like I barely have enough time for myself right now, let alone a girlfriend. I like you, I’ve just been spread out really thin lately.

Me: Do you not want to talk anymore?

NG: Of course I do 🙂

WHAT IN THE FUCK? That’s just fucking brilliant. NG wants to go to dinner tonight, but I can’t say I’m up for it. What’s the point of trying to hang out with someone who clearly doesn’t like me enough to make time for me. Thoughts?

In the meantime, I’m gonna go wash my arm.

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Protected: Show some respect, you slutsky!

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I will knock a bitch out…aaaaand FIGHT.

Today is one of my girlfriend’s former wedding day…as in, she was supposed to be walking down the aisle as I type this, but she got dumped. But that isn’t my story.

For today, I wanted to plan something fun just for her and her friends, so she could keep her mind off him. The plans started churning about a month ago, when a girlfriend suggested we all chip in some cash, and enjoy a grand weekend at the Hard Rock Hotel. Sweet by me.

Since we could really only afford one night at the hotel, I offered my apartment as the place for the pre-party. My original plans were simple: invite over a bunch of girls, make a ton of champagne punch and chocolate-covered strawberries, watch men-bashing movies, play a little dream phone, and be ready to roll to Hard Rock in the early morning hours.

Well, then I started thinking a little more. Maybe I should host a jewelry party? A spa pampering party? A dildo fun party? Should there be a stripper? So, I started making arrangements for it to be a party that combined a little of everything.

I started by talking with my spa consultant, who told me she would have to talk to her manager: MANDY. Well, I’m pretty sure Mandy hates me. We’ve had way too many of those moments where she’s talking about me in the room, I give her the stink eye, and she shuts the fuck up. After about three rounds of this, I told her to can it—no bitch, I know I did not sign up for a year contract to get treated like shit, ok? Thanks.

So, at the mention of Mandy’s name, I knew I wouldn’t be having that spa party. But hey, I’ve got hoes in different area codes, so I called another spa consultant at a different location. I explained the situation and she seemed RULLY into hosting this party. She was all, I’ll invite my hair guy and my jewelry gal and we can have sushi catered in. Yeah, sure, whatever bitch, let’s just get on with it. So she tells me she’s about to walk into a meeting and she’ll call me back that night, or at the latest, the next morning.

You know where this is going. The bitch didn’t call me back. Total. Clit. Tease.

Anyway, I met up with my girlfriends and explained the situation—no-go on the spa party. So what did we come up with? There was only one clear solution: the dildo fun party. Now, if passing around huge neon dongs with my closest girlfriends isn’t a Friday night-o-fun, then I really don’t know what is. So we get on some web sites and try to hook things up. Well this effort went about as far as my dating efforts go—nowhere.

I was at a loss. I really wanted to make sure my girlfriend had a good time. So after a few bottles of wine and a good brainstorming session, we decided to do an anti-bachelorette party, where we all dress in black, do a bar crawl, flirt with random guys, act like fools, and get free shit. Come to think of it, this is my routine about four nights out of the week. Damn.

So we proceed with this idea, I make invitations, I create a scavenger hunt, I make food for the pre-party, I clean my apartment, I even blew up a queen-size air mattress for the drunk bitches to sleep on. The next day, it was time to finalize the dinner reservations and get random details about the hotel.

Hotel. Check. Dinner reservations? Eh, not so much.

I call the sushi place we wanted to go to and they say they are all booked for large parties that night. Umm, I had a party of 6—that’s like, all of my ex boyfriends. Anyway, the hostess tells me we can still come and put our name on the list if we want. Well no, we don’t want. So I call choice number two, a grill. They have no problem getting us in, so I’m feeling relieved.

At that point, the only thing left I have to do is get myself ready. So I head to my salon and get my hair did. I’m feeling great for about two hours of pampering and gossiping, until I leave the salon and check my phone.

What do I see? That not one, not two, but three bitches have dropped out of the effing party. One of the girls was supposed to be a damn bridesmaid! The other two were my friends. Everyone saying they couldn’t go because they were low on cash.

What. the. fuck? I understand none of us are made of money, but seriously. If you’re broke, at least come along, have a drink instead of dinner, bring a flask instead of buying. I really wasn’t planning an evening for the rich and famous—it’s simple, tacky, fun and a way to pick up hotties (and free shots).

But what really kills me is the lack of interest in wanting to perk up a friend. It’s obvious she’s going through a rough time right now and could use a bottle of champagne. It doesn’t matter if she was my good friend or not, I can’t imagine what she’s going through and I know I need my friends every time get dumped.

But have no fear, me and my girlfriend are still taking her out tonight—complete with champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, dinner, and a bar crawl/scavenger hunt. I even bought us candy necklaces (for the fellas to eat off our necks) and shot glasses attached to necklaces. BRING IT ON!

And when I see the bitches that hoed us out, I WILL punch you in the face.

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