Tag Archives: parties

GIZZY HAS BEEN RESURRECTED

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

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

2. That I died

3. You didn’t even notice I was gone?

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

Me: GOD!!! ALL THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR FUCKING BABIES!! BABIES, FUCK!

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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Big City Weekend #1 – FAIL

Well my first weekend in the big city went ok.  I didn’t get mugged, raped, or murdered so I guess it was a success.  I have been sleeping with a kitchen knife next to my bed though, just in case.

I am totally aware that I look like a serial killer.  But as long as it’s intimidating to all of the robbers, I’m ok with it.

Weekend #1 started off just peachy king because I broke my crackberry Friday morning and literally thought the world was going to end.  I couldn’t go out because christ although I may seem dumb, I know it’s not smart to go out without any means of communication.

But Saturday morning I willingly got into a strangers car with just my ipod as a way of communicating and didn’t think a thing about it because Anth vouched for the guy.

Anth and I got into our first roommate fight because of my lack of communication.  I had plans to meet this rental agent Saturday morning to look at apartments, right?  Well I had to email him just before I left and be all, “Hey I don’t have a phone but I have an ipod so I guess just email me if there’s a problem.”  There was a problem.  I took the wrong interstate and ended up in the suburbs but of course I couldn’t get on my ipod to email the guy and tell him I’d be a tad late.  An hour after we were supposed to meet I finally showed up, thankfully he was still there because he called Anth and he told him I had left like 2 hours ago to drive miles. Neither of them were concerned about my safety or well being though.

Here is the string of emails I had from Anth when I finally did get an internet connection:

A: Gizzy, wtf are you doing!?

G (2 hours later): I got lost! I ended up in the suburbs!

A: WTF! Email him back! He called me like 15 min ago and said he emailed him.  Call him.

G: I did email him back!! I don’t have a phone how in the EFF am I supposed to call him without a phone!

A: AHAHAHA do you have your laptop open in your shotgun seat or what?  You are such a retard.

G: I think he left 😦 are you at home? Come get me.  I’m scared.

A: No, panera.  Damnit Gizzy, he is going to hate me now.  You know this is work for him on a Saturday, right?

G:  I know it’s work for him!! I feel so bad.  I’m at Starbucks, call him and tell him to come meet me!

A:  I just talked to him, he’s on his way back.  He’s a nice guy so he won’t ask, but you should probably do something to make this up to him, if you know what I mean…

G: Are you flippin’ kidding me? I hate you.

A: Email me when you’re on your way home and I’ll come back.  We have some evening planning to do.

So… yada yada yada… I found a GREAT apartment.  And now I’m flipping out because we’re in price negotiations and I haven’t heard anything back for 2 days.  I just can’t handle this kind of pressure and not knowing if I get to live there.  I’ll cry if I don’t get this apt, I really will.

Anyway, I got back to the apt and Anth and I began to plan out our evening around the first and last birthday party of 2011 either of us will be invited to.  I wasn’t even really invited, but you know, by association.

It started as us going to get some lunch at a little bar and grill around the corner while we mapped out our game plan for the night.  Of course we had to have a pitcher to fuel our great ideas.  Then we decided we needed some fresh new swag for the party that ended up not being fresh or swag at all.  We went into the lacoste store and found matching nautical themed girls and guys shirts.  We got them.  I know, probably the worst $35 I have ever spent.  When someone posts pictures from the party on facebook I’ll put one of us up here, many pictures were taken.

Anyway, captain and skipper showed up to the party and unbeknown to me Anth was introducing me to everyone as “The Hook Line and Sinker.”  Why? I have absolutely no idea.  But it pissed me off so I started calling him Mustang Sally as a form of cock-blocking, which gradually turned into “Sally wets herself.” I really just don’t even know. Before the party was over it became a competition between us of who could cock/vagina block the best.  I’d have to say it was a tie, we both pulled out all the stops (I would elaborate further if I remembered what the stops were.) And carried ourselves home.  Not too much drama for weekend number one, but not quite enough for it to be a success.

Sunday I got the Sunday afternoon blues and started to miss my family.  So Anth took me to see his choice of movies, The Green Hornet, it was actually pretty good but he fell asleep.

This is probably the best relationship I’ve ever been in, #1 we’re not actually in a relationship so I don’t have to have sex with him, sleep in the same bed as him, or be all lovey dovey… What I do get is: A wing-man to every event, someone who is just as big of a loser as I am who will go shopping/to the movies with me and think it’s fun, and he’s no where close to having a girlfriend so I can find a real boyfriend and tap out first so I’m not lonely.  Win win win!

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