Tag Archives: neal bledsoe

Ring a ling

It happened.   The Christmas gift of all Christmas gifts is placed upon my finger (actually it’s sitting in the box looking at me because I’m freaking out)…

That’s a right ring finger there, not jinxing us again, Lucky!

I know, 3 pictures is overkill, but it’ll probably never happen again so I’m going to bask in it.

That’s gonna be your white gold band, aquamarine stone there in the middle, and chocolate diamonds on the outside (do I sound like one of those fancy schmancy jewelers? No?), I know you’re all waiting for the big clincher, that my dad or sister got me this lovely piece of jewelry, but that would be incorrect.  I actually got it from a guy, and that guy is…. *drumroll please*

HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON.

I guess I have a little explaining to do.  Most of you probably don’t remember who HOTTIE is, because he is an early character from the blog who only appeared in a few (10-12) posts in during our first few months.  For those of you who wish to read up on your HOTTIE literature:

My first HOTTIE encounter

My first date with HOTTIE

When HOTTIE took me home

The night I effed everything up with HOTTIE

When HOTTIE gave me a second chance and I effed it up, again

For those of you who don’t want to read the full HOTTIE run-down let me give you a short briefing,

HOTTIE is an ex-friend of my ex-boyfriend, thanks to me.  We ran into each other on the street one day, made plans to hang out, dated most of this past summer, I met his parents, we planned a wedding and a family, I got drunk and laid down in his elevator, then accidently answered the phone and let my ex-boyfriend hear us chattin’ it up one night which caused a full on brawl, and HOTTIE never called me again, with good reason.  Until recently.

About a month and a half ago I went to my alma mater to see my friends, we went out, I saw HOTTIE… this was the half post I wrote on it after it happened:

The last thing I remember was looking at my Ciroc Redberry bottle thinking  that it was almost gone and it would probably be a good idea for me to stop, but I didn’t.  Gigi informed me that once we arrived to the bar I immediately spotted HOTTIE and gave him the cold shoulder/ignored him for a solid 45 minutes until he brought over shots and won my heart again.  My online banking statement informed me that I spent upwards of $80 at one bar.  Since my phone died before I started drinking, these are the only types of evidence I have, my vagina informed me that we did not have sex.  And HOTTIE informed me that I smooth talked him well enough to want to start talking to me again/not thinking I’m a lush (I know, HOW?) and to treat me to breakfast and some heavy texting.  I won’t lie, I am quite excited I drank HOTTIE back into my life.  He’s the only decent guy I’ve ever semi-dated, with the exception of the time he threw me under the bus, but everyone gets a freebie, I mean I did lay down half naked in his elevator and find mystery poop outside of my apt the following day.  I think we’re even. But I also forgot until just this second that he’s 21. Damnit.

I was just watching Conan and Maroon 5 was performing when it occurred to me if I had to compare HOTTIE to anyone it would be Adam Levine:

I think everyone can see why the subject of losing HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON has been so troubling for me.

I haven’t seen HOTTIE since then but he calls and texts me every day.   It didn’t really occur to me that anything was going on between us until he called me on Christmas eve and asked if I could come up Sunday for a holiday party some family friends were having.  Mind you, HOTTIE lives about 3 hours away, so it was going to be quite a haul, he also lives 30 minutes from my new job so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone and go apartment hunting on Monday (which didn’t happen.)  Then, he told me he bought me a Christmas present so I was definitely on board, because if there’s one thing I love, it’s presents.  But, that meant I had to get him one.  He had mentioned these new shoes that came out that he wanted so I got him those and pretty much won his heart all over again because duh, I’m the best.

I was talking to Lucky last night about how it is a little awkward, HOTTIE and I haven’t had the talk, I honestly thought it was going to be one of those types of relationships where I give him a call when I go to my alma mater to see my friends and we get drunk and make out, I was never expecting a ring.  Even though I have complained to him for the past month about how no one buys me jewelry AND made him watch the Tiffany’s commercial with Neal Bledsoe (who BTW still has not confirmed my facebook friend request) in it about 25 times with me on the phone, I wasn’t expecting him to get me a ring.  I honestly have no idea why this guy likes me.  I mean I have decent boobs but that only goes so far.

But, when he handed me the bag I knew it was jewelry and I couldn’t decide whether to throw up or cry, thankfully I did neither, I just put it on my hand, said it was pretty and shiny, and waved it in front of his face, I basically have to ruin everything.  We went to the party where his family and family friends were all dressed to the nines and his mom ran up and was all, “Ooooh let me see The Ring!” I’m like whoa whoa whoa, we did not just get engaged, this is a birthstone ring, and we have been talking a month and a half and he’s still only 21, this means he will most likely buy MANY many more rings.  She blabbed on about how he was soooo excited to give it to me and could hardly contain himself.  HOTTIE is cute, this melted my heart a little bit, such a wee young lad.

Now here I am, sitting here with this ring from this guy who I don’t know if he is my boyfriend or my MOB (make out buddy, another fun fact, we haven’t slept together yet.)  And I’m not sure what to do.  I can’t pawn it, right? I mean I like it, I don’t want to pawn it, but what if I get drunk and mess it up again?  Soooo… yeah.  Cheers to Christmas!

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How not to propose…

…To Gizzy.

Here it is Christmas eve eve and millions of men all over the world are gearing up to ask the biggest question of their lives.

Will you marry me?

On Christmas.  VOOOOMMMIIIITTTT!!

If my boyfriend asked me to marry him on Christmas I would tell him to get the fuck out of my house.  That’s unacceptable.   So here Lucky and I are discussing Tuesday night’s episode of Minute To Win It where the two contestants were a young couple who met in the airport.  Standard.  Shortly after they won 75k, the guy got down on one knee and proposed.  She said yes blabbity blah.  Lucky said she cried, I said I threw up in my mouth a little, because I’ll be damned if a guy is proposing to me on Christmas or thereabouts, but on a game show too?! Awwww hell no!! (I guess it’s good that it didn’t actually happen to me then.)

So Lucky suggested I compose a list of all of the ways a guy shouldn’t propose to me, because the list is mighty long.  It actually would be more productive to list the ways in which I would accept a proposal but what’s the fun in that?  Giddy up!

*First I would like to tell everyone, I got the job!!!!!!!!! Wahoooo!!!! In 3 short weeks I’ll be moving to a rulllll big city and I am scared.  What if some gangs try to hi-jack me and I have to pull out the gun (that my dad is going to get me for Christmas, I know it) and they take it from me and shoot me!? AH! I am scared.*  Anyway…. back to the list….

*The only thing happening on or around the day of the proposal  must be the proposal itself.  Ie: Not on Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentines Day, my birthday, our anniversary, or any other government observed holiday.  That’s just a cheap shot and a way to only buy me 1 gift.  Ohhhh you’re proposing on our 2 year anniversary, thanks for the diamond, now where’s my gd anniversary gift?!

*The proposal mustn’t be cluttered by anything else exciting happening on or around that day.  Ie: The day we go on Minute To Win It.  It’s really just cheating us both of the excitement of the actual proposal, because I’m already going to be excited that I’m taking home 75k, how does a measly $5,000 ring compare to that? It doesn’t because I could buy myself 15 $5,000 rings or one massive $75,000 ring.  See my point?  Wait until I am ALMOST poor enough to want to pawn the engagement ring, THEN PROPOSE.  I’ll really appreciate it then.

*The proposal shan’t take place where food is present.  Some people like the whole traditional proposing at a nice restaurant riff raff.  Not I.  To me that shows lack of creativity.  If you want The Gizzy to say yes you’re going to have to come up with something genuine that you haven’t seen done a million times.  I can buy myself a nice steak dinner and some champagne, lets pull out all of the stops here, because this is only happening once (IF you read the guide correctly.)

*To ensure a yes, at some point in the relationship a guy must buy me 1 dozen long stemmed roses, and show up at my door with them for no apparent reason.  “Roses because it’s Monday, M’dear!”  This would actually be a great way to propose to me, when I open the door be down on one knee with the flowers and a giant rock.  I’d say yes to that.  I know it’s lacking the aforementioned creativity factor but this specific proposal technique has the shock factor.  I would guess that upwards of 90% of women know when they are about to be proposed to, so when he takes you to the beach, or up in the hot air balloon, or kneels down beside the horse drawn carriage to tie his shoe just as you’re about to step on, you’re not really shocked when it happens.  But he’s coming over to pick you up to go get some wings and $1.50 drafts on a Sunday afternoon and you open the door and BAM! there it is, that’s gonna shock your pants off.

*The ring can’t have a hint of a pear shape, gold band, tiny diamonds, actually it has to be a platinum band with one giant stone on top.  Case closed, nothing else will be accepted.  This is a piece of jewelry I have to look at every day for the rest of my life so you can sure as hell bet a rats ass it’s going to look how I want it to look and if it doesn’t he must just not be the one.  I can imagine everyone at home is sitting there thinking, “Oh no wonder she is single, she’ll never get engaged with this bratty attitude!” I concur.

*He should probably ask my dad first, I say probably because #1 I am semi-drunk right now:

Side story:  Buttons, Button’s Husband, and I just went to a Winter White wine tasting, it was delish and I am buzzed.  I also got into an argument with a homeless man on my walk there.  It went like so:

Homeless dude:  Hey lady *ching ching ching* (Shaking his money making cup) got some change so I can have a Merry Christmas?

I snarled and shot him a dirty look.

Homeless guy:  Lady, it’s Christmas!

Me:  Really!?? You’ve got on nicer clothes than me.  How about you hand over that cup and give ME some money.  Greedy asshole.

Then his business partner chimes in as I walk away.

BP:  He’s real legit ma’am, he’s not gonna buy booze with that, I would, but he won’t, he’ll really buy food.

As he struts into a hotel which is my city’s equivalent to the Ritz Carlton.

I’m sorry, but homeless people can fuck off.  They have more money than me.  Case closed.

Anyway, yeah the guy should ask my dad for permission.   My dad would like that, even though he probably won’t like the guy.  It’s whatevs, it would just be a respectful thing to do.  He should probably ask Ella too, she’s pretty judgmental and if she approves I’d say its done deal and he can hang with the fam.

I know it’s a lot to ask for but if a guy passes all of these tests with flying colors I’ll know it was meant to be.  Wamppp wammmp.


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(Platonic) Date Night

As of 11:24 pm on December 20th Neal Bledsoe has not accepted my facebook friend request.

SEE! Awaiting friend confirmation. I’m kind of getting pissed off.  But anyway…

A texting conversation between Lucky and I yesterday afternoon that sums this post up in a nutshell:

Lucky: How the eff did you get fecal matter in your eye?

Me: God, I hope that saying isn’t true.  But I have no idea.  I did some sketchy things this weekend so I guess that’s what I get.

So, the million dollar question is how did I get pink eye? Thanks to Knocked Up we all know that you get pink eye from someone farting on your pillow.  Which absolutely could have happened this weekend.  Here’s the part in the movie when the camera zooms in on my glazed puffy eye and rewinds through the entire weekend and starts to play when I am getting out of my car at Anthony’s apartment in the big city Thursday night.

(Side Note: How I Met Your Mother is my new favorite show, LOVE IT! It’s on right now.  I am happy.)

I had my 3rd and final interview at XX University Friday afternoon.  Fingers crossed everybody, I may have gotten a job on my own!  So I did all that crap and Anthony and I decided to have a platonic date night, cause we’re just bff’s ya’ll.  We went to a nice steak dinner, drank 6 bottles of wine, gave a homeless guy $50/Anth’s gym membership card after having an entire conversation with him making him swear that he would take the $50 to a strip club and make it rain, made questionably positioned snow angels on Anth’s rooftop deck, threw snowballs at people off the rooftop deck, threw beer bottles off the rooftop deck, had a weird dance party, and awkwardly passed out on the floor: me in the kitchen doorway and Anth under the coffee table.  That’s exactly how I remember Friday night, too.  For it was a celebracion for my maybe new job. :/

Around 8 am Saturday morning we woke up (because when you pass out like a drunken fool at 11pm it’s easy to wake up early), looked for some apartments online, and actually found one.  I called the guy up and we had a nice little chitty chat about his condo for rent.  The pictures were nice, like real nice, and the rent was cheap, like real cheap (not really, but about as cheap as you can get in the city without having bars on your windows and trannys in your hallway.) Because he only needs someone to sublease it for 8 months while he is in India on business.  HOKAY mon, I’m your girl! But, as always, there was a catch.  I had to interview with the association board and the association board is a bunch of old corporate lawyers and snobby housewives.  The owner liked my style and gave me a few hints, “Tell them you love to work and that you just got married, they love newlyweds.”  UHM.  Both untrue.  But lucky for me I had a hungover Anth in tow to be my faux hubby.

Like any other Gizzy-Anth outting we had to drink before we went to the interview that evening.  Like all day.  The plan was to go have a few bloody mary’s to get rid of our hangovers/get our levels right so we could chat it up about our new marriage and make it believable.  Which turned into a whole day of fun.  On our way to the interview we came up with the brilliant plan to really play the part and stopped for this little gem:

Apparently drunk+association board interview=engagement ring.  Ok, not really… it was $4.88 at Forever 21 but it tricked the board and my mom.  I thought we really impressed everyone when we entered the building with our arms linked singing, “Hi Ho Hi Ho off to work we go ba dum dum dum dum dum dum hi ho hi ho hi hoooooooo!!!!” And we even did a little musical stance at the end of the song like we were on Broadway, which was really me standing arms in the air with the gayest smile ever plastered on my face and Anth trying his damnedest to get traction on the marble floor, because alas we were doing all of this in the snow.  I am completely serious.  It’s a shame Anth and I are sexually repulsed by each other, we make a great team and would be pretty much the coolest couple ever, but the thought of having sex with him makes me want to strap down my boobs and sew up my vagina.

I was pretty shocked at the questions the association board asked, I guess when it comes to people’s lively hood nothing is off limits.  They asked us about children, pets, drug use, our careers, education, alcohol use, the stability of our relationship and the relationships with our family, hospital visits, and jail visits among other things.  We were drunk so of course we answered the questions like jack-tards and told them he likes to beat me but only when he’s high on crack, then I curtseyed when we left and literally dove into the  backseat of a cab and yelled, “Onward march!” Ok yeah, I’m a little embarrassed now.  But, they totally loved us.

Or at least I thought they loved us and knew we were joking until I got this Christmas treat in my inbox this afternoon:

Gizzy,

I received this from the association board this afternoon.  Sorry, good luck on the rest of your search.

Grant

———————-

Dear Mr. T,

We the board acknowledge your efforts to lease your apartment for the duration of your extended stay overseas.  However, we ask that you take careful consideration of the candidates you select to bring to the board as possible tenants, and how they will interact with the lifestyle and temperaments of the building’s current tenants.

Your most recent candidate selection of Mr. A and Ms. G has alerted our attention that you may not be taking the tenant selection process as seriously as once promised.

We uphold the highest standards of elegance and class here at A Lot of Nuns House and prefer to have tenants who can not only respect the association board and our policies, but also the other building tenants, their privacy, and right to a peaceful place to live.  Because of these reasons and after careful evaluation, the board has elected to deny tenancy to Mr. A and Ms. G, as we feel they would be better suited elsewhere.

We wish you the best of luck in your selection process and look forward to meeting with future tenant candidates that you wish to proceed with for further evaluation.

Regards,

A Lot of Nuns House Association Board

—————————–

Hrmmph…Sorry for partying.

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Predicament. And then some.

I had a (2, actually) completely different post planned out and written for today, but then something happened and my creepy gene kicked in.  I hope everyone read our guest posts yesterday on SimplySolo and JustMarriedGirl’s blogs.  If you didn’t, at least click here and go read the guest post on SimplySolo’s blog for now because it is pertinent to what I am about to say.

I’ll wait.

Ok, so the dark haired guy from the Tiffany’s commercial that Lucky and I are drooling over practically the entire post, he’s hot right?

I couldn’t just leave it at that.  Why? Because I’m not normal and I have to continually beat a dead horse.  Which has nothing to do with this hot guy.  But anyway, not only did I watch the video about 50,000 times over the past 3 days and wish I was the girl he was proposing to, I had to go all Detective Gizzy on the situation and find out who he is. And I did.

First, I thought I ruined it for myself because I found a blog where a girl had posted his name (& the names of all the other actor and the 2 female models like she’s somebody and knows people) so I googled him and found out that he’s an actor (Duh!) but not only is he an actor he recently guest starred on an episode of Gossip Girl. While Gossip Girl is one of my favorite shows, I sadly missed the episode he was on.  And when I say sadly, I mean angrily, because I totally remember what I was doing that week to make me miss it (job interview) and it was totally not worth it.  I also just got so worked up about that whole situation that I accidently rented Going The Distance for $4.99 on DirecTV and I don’t even want to watch it, but now I have to because I’m paying 5 bucks for it, christ.   Anyway, in the episode he kisses Chuck Bass.  Chuck Bass is my favorite character/Gossip Girl crush (yep, I LOVE the assholes.  This we know.) So this whole thing is pretty much a sign to me.  I mean, big woop all of the good actors have to make out with guys to be accepted by the academy.  He’s just doing his career the justice it deserves.  Hellooooo Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger!! They both were nominated for academy awards for Brokeback Mountain. (Can you tell I’m sucking up in case he reads this?)(I am.)(Hi, Neal =))

Ok, settle down everyone.  We’re too late.  He already has a fan page.   On his fan page I learned that our birthdays are 1 day apart.  Plus 4 years.  That he is co-starring in a new CW drama (I guess that means I better get him while the gettin’ is good, before everyone else does.) And  that he’s Canadian.  I went to Canada once for  Hanson concert.  I liked it! Their Burger King chicken tenders tasted a little funny, but all around it was a good country, and if I went for Hanson then by God I would go for Neal.

But then! His facebook profile came up.   Now, here’s what I’m contemplating: #1 should I add him? #2 Should I add him to my personal facebook page or the Cocktails at Tiffany’s facebook page? #3 Should I message/poke/relationship request him?

I’m not sure how to go about hitting on a semi-celebrity.  I would imagine he gets a lot of chicks and I would be just another nameless ho in the crowd.  So maybe I should dress up all amish and take a new profile pic so that when I add him it’s all BAM!!! Reverse psychology in his face! And he’ll be like, WHOA! Who is this crazy amish chick adding me? Oh.. ok, I guess she is kind of hot in her mennonite garb.  Ok, I’ll ask her out and then buy her some Tiffany’s and carry trees down the street for her. NBD.

What do you guys think? It’s legit, right?

I would imagine at this point nobody cares what my plan of attack is and you’re all just sitting there in your non-amish-wear like, “JUST POST HIS GODDAMN NAME SO I CAN SEND HIM A MESSAGE!”

Sigh.

Neal Bledsoe.

At least give me 1 day as a head start.

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