Tag Archives: romance

Men suck, all of them

Well, we are officially back in action.  WordPress shut us down for a hot minute saying we violated their terms of service.  Which was a big lie.  I emailed them and they said it was a mistake.  You’re damn right it was a mistake! They must have been trying to put us on freshly pressed and deactivated us instead.  That’s gotta be it.  Anyway…

Lately I’ve been in a slump, I don’t feel like going out or doing anything fun, and I really just want to be left the hell alone.  By everyone other than my family and Lucky.  I’d like to go entire days without making fake conversation with people at work about the weather and how slow the copy machine is.  I don’t want to hang out with my roommates.  I want to come home, eat my dinner, and relax in my room alone while drinking a glass of wine or 5.

It seems like if I am short with people at work I’m constantly getting the, “What’s wrong, is everything ok?” Look/questioning from everyone.  Yes! Everything is fucking fine, I just want to come in here, do my job, and leave.  I don’t care about your grandkids, or what you had for dinner, or what your plans are this weekend.  If there were people my age I’d probably feel different, especially if there were hot guys or halfway decent girls I could possibly be friends with.  But I’m tired, and I have a lot of work, and hearing about peoples lives gives me less energy to do work and stay up past 8:30.  But last Friday I had to hear a 20 minute long explanation of what Ciggy Breath was doing for his wife’s birthday month.   That I never asked about.  And I just had to leave, that was it – I was cashed after hearing that.

So to add to hating everyone last week I woke up with a 6AM text from Anth saying, “Did you stand there while they fucked with my sunglasses? And, where did you go?”

A little backstory, a few weeks ago my old college pal Gigi came for a visit and we went to a concert on the beach.  After the concert we were walking to catch a cab, something happened and I smacked Anth’s chest.  His sunglasses were on the inside of his shirt and when I smacked his chest one of the lenses popped out of his shades.  I offered to take them to get them fixed and that was the end of it.  

So, when the whole fire thing happened I sat down to take a looksie at his sunglasses.  The lenses are held in with fishing wire so I figured I could put it back in myself.  I did and then I cleaned them and all was good.  A week and a half later I got that text from Anth.

Now, I don’t condone lying to anyone, but in a case like this if I would have told Anth that I fixed his sunglasses he would’ve gone off on me and accused me of messing them up somehow.  So when I told him I would get them fixed he said I could go to any optometry place and it would be fine.  I told him I took him to sunglass hut because they’re probably all high and wouldn’t recall if I came in there like an optometry place would.  So then he goes off on a tangent about how there’s a chip missing from the bottom of the lens, you can barely notice it, and how I should’ve gone to an optometry place because they have better tools for that stuff.  Well you know what dbag? I fixed it and I didn’t use any tools, and I sure as hell didn’t chip the god damn lens using my fingers to put it back in.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m extra irritable or what the deal is, but I just did not want to deal with this.  I immediately texted Lucky and told her the sitch, she said it was stupid and I agreed.  Once all was said and done I just ignored him, if he wants me to take them to get the lens fixed (which I’m not entirely sure happened because of something I did) I will get them fixed.  But, he’s going to have to grow some damn balls and ask me to do it.  Because it’s time to be a man and stop confronting people through emails and text messages.  Yes, I confronted them about my cheese through an email, but I would’ve said it to their faces had they been at the apartment when I noticed it was all gone, I just wanted my cheese replaced before the next morning damnit. 

The day before that or after, I can’t even remember now they all run together, he was texting me complaining about me turning the air conditioning up 1 degree in the morning when I left.  God forbit it is 1 degree warmer in the apartment when NO ONE is there all day long so that we save some money/help Earth.  So I asked what his problem with it was, he said that he gets hot when he sleeps.  Ok, so turn it down when you sleep or if you get hot, who cares.  No that wasn’t good enough, he had to complain about how sometimes he forgets to turn it down and then he wakes up sweating.  But of course he’s too lazy to get out of bed and turn it down or not use a fucking down comforter in the middle of summer.  But I digress.  See what I’m dealing with here?

It gets slightly worse, after fending off my nagging non-husband all week, the weekend had finally arrived.  I was planning on eating buffalo wild wings and drinking my bud light limes and laying in bed all weekend and talking to NO ONE.   I am all independant woman the past year or so, don’t need a man, yada yada… I’m sure there are songs about it.  But, when Lucky called me last weekend to tell me about the latest with her cray cray dad I ventured out of my room and went to the roof so that I could have good cell service.  As I do, I hadn’t been up there for more than 2 seconds and here comes Anth.  So I go down to the kitchem, 2 seconds later here comes Anth.  Why?  I don’t know, I guess he needed attention or something.  Because he wasn’t following me around because he had a purpose for being in either of those rooms, he was just lingering.

So I go into my room and lay halfway in my room and halfway out my sliding doors so my phone would still get service (HATE AT&T btw) and not 15 minutes later JM busts in  my bedroom door because he’s visiting and thought I was gone, so he was going to sleep in my bed.  

Then every time I come downstairs I get shit about how I don’t hang out with them and how I’m boring and will die a lonely old cat lady because I never come out of my room.  And that is exactly why I don’t come out of my room, so I don’t have to hear shit like that.

I like my roommates, and I like to party with them occassionally.  But I don’t want to hang out with them from the time I wake up in the morning until I go to bed.  #1 they watch bad tv (sports – not the good ones either, they watch boring stuff, like wrestling, tennis, and golf) #2 I don’t want to hear about how I’m so lame #3 I don’t want to hear about your girlfriend/girl you’ve been banging because I don’t care. 

So men, I get it.  I get what you’re going through having a nagging wife and no sex.  I get it.

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To Gizzy’s house: part IV.

Ah, when we awoke the next morning it was the glorious 4th of July. AMERICA! ‘MERICA! As we proudly proclaimed all day long.

But my mood quickly changed from happy and celebratory to confused, and, well…more confused.

After we passed out the night before, Clay had sent me a text around 3 am wanting to know what I was doing. Since I was sleeping, I didn’t respond. Then at 9 am, he sent me a good morning text.

While I was reading the “good morning” text and sifting through some others, he sent me ANOTHER text saying this:

“U don’t have to ignore me you know. Asshole. Thats hypocritical of me sorry I was a dick but ur gender has yet to prove other than a vagina ur existence is not necessary. OK that was mean I’m sorry u r extremely attractive and I really have not stopped thinking about u can we try this again”

If you’re wondering, yes, that was all crammed into one text message and yet another example of Clay having a legit conversation by himself. Nothing like calling me an asshole and a member of a worthless gender and then wanting to meet up.  Picture me, cackling through this all. 

I replied back with a solid “well, good morning.” We had a weird conversation about how I wasn’t ignoring him per se I was just wary of getting involved with him because he had a girlfriend. To which he said…

UMM YOU NEED TO CHECK MY FACEBOOK.

Okay, douche, I don’t check Facebook every fucking day to see if you and your woman are together or not. Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck.

Anyway, the dude was drunk, so Gizzy and I check Facebook to see what exactly happened. And this is the slew of Facebook statuses we see:

Ok I refuse to be with a whore, I am single, so ladies lets have fun.  I have only 3 weeks left lets do the damn thing and stop thinking about tomorrow.

I hate my life, and the stupid bitch that told me I was everything to her, that’s bullshit, where is she tonight? Not with me.  I hope your aborted children provide you with a supportive landing in hell.

Happy 4th LOL

Clay is going to establish alcoholism today being as my first beer was pounded at 8:39 you’re welcome now who will join me in celebrating our country’s birthday?

If whites only come out at night why do I drink during the day?

If whores only come out at night why do I drink during the day?

  • Comment: Jackie – are you drunk?
  • Comment: Clay – if you’re wondering if I’m drinking, yes, and if I’m drunk, yes, but if you say it like that it sounds uneducated.  All I’m doing is flushing my kidneys and destroying my liver if I could put this shit in an IV I would, because it would save me the time of putting my beer to my mouth and allow me to come up with awesome status updates even faster.
  • Comment: Jackie – I would’ve asked how you’ve been but it’s pretty clear.
  • Comment: Clay – it’s clear that your gender has castrated me for the last time, and I am no longer obligated to believe you thundercunts are nice people.  So why would I? Assholes finish first right? Fuck the world, I’m about to kick it down the escalator.

Whores are like fireworks, you only shoot them at night and yet at first they look innocent but after a few shots they explode on you causing pain if not careful.

  • Comment: Clay – happy 4th retards
  • Comment: friend – you’re on a roll today
  • Comment: Clay – give me some butter
  • Comment: Barb – clay be good
  • Comment: Clay- if by good you mean break the female gender down by targeting her weakest attribute and convincing her to sleep with me because she is emotionally unstable then yes I will be good and good at it.  Sorry miss lady you are excluded from this list because you have always been awesome to me and to everyone else love you so much.

 I was once told to be good or good at it.  Happy 4th retards.

When I asked Clay what happened with his ex to make him so upset he said, “She’s a cock juggling thundercunt.” Another AWESOME line that worked itself into our vocabulary the rest of the day.

Fair enough.

To celebrate such a glorious holiday, Gizzy and I put on our swimsuits and headed out looking for beer and anything festive. ‘MERICA! Well, we didn’t find anything festive, but we got the beer and some ice and packed them both into what Gizzy thought was a cooler, when it was really a large thermal container made for a damn crock pot.  Don’t knock it till you try it, that shit worked!

Whatever. We head to the beach and get in line for some junk food. After we scarf that down, we find a nice spot in the sand near plenty of hotties playing beach volleyball.  Hotties/douchers that I already knew from college.

We had already packed some vodka, so Gizzy got us some mixers and we had our way with them. And this is when I start trying to figure out just how many different places I can piss in public (twice in the water, once in the sand, and a few times in actual public view). “Public view” means hanging her ass off a dock to pee, and hanging it off of some steps/seats.  Someone had to know what was going on since I was doubled over laughing and every time she got up there were wet spots that magically appeared on the cement.  I’m not innocent though, the day of the block party we traveled through a maze so that I could take a pee in a parking garage, where our car was not parked.

When I was finished with my vodka, I started drinking the beer like it was my job. Didn’t want to have any leftovers! When the beer was gone, we made the weird decision to walk to where the fireworks were…which was a bit of a hike. I would venture to say at least 1.5-2 miles.  It took us a good hour and a half to get there, longer than it normally would have because we had to simultaneously stop to pee/take shots.  We completely got ready in a public bathroom and then start ripping shots straight from a bottle of vodka.  In public.  Infront of cops, and children.

We see the fireworks and keep walking to try and snag some dinner. However, there was a fuckload of people. Like literally people were shoving us trying to not let us in because they were all coming out. And then we ran into a saucy hostess who told us the restaurant closed at 10 pm and I accused her of calling us retards.  My absolute favorite convo of the weekend:

Us: Table for 2

Hostess:  Um we’re pretty full, we’re not seating anyone but you can stand here and wait, I’m not sure if we’re letting people in, we might stay open later.

Lucky: So ARE you staying open later?

Hostess: We’re not seating anyone right now

Lucky: Yeah, I heard you, we’re not retards

Hostess: I didn’t say you were

Lucky: Uh! Yeah, ya did!

Bitch.  So we head to a nice little italian place, and order our food and some vino.

Once we do sit down, we have some depressing conversation about missing people, (and I loudly shit talked the aliens next to us for staring at our drunk asses)  and we manage to catch a cab ride back home. However, the cab ride was nice and bumpy, and me being quite wasted, I knew I needed to barf. But it wasn’t anything emergency-related…I figured I had plenty of time. However, when I hand the cabbie my credit card, he says he has to turn the car off completely and restart everything.  Honest to god, it took half an hour.

I told him I needed to step outside and puke. And I did. On a tree. While people and dogs watched me.

But I felt worlds better.

Then Gizzy and I ran inside and busted into Anth’s room, only to find him sexting while in his bed. Typical.  Lucky asks if he’s naked and runs over and rips off the blankets.  I immediately scream, “DID YOU SEE HIS WEINER!?” she says no and we run squeeling out of his room.  He sent me a text the following morning thanking us for the wake up call and thanking himself that he wasn’t actually naked under his covers.  I told him that leaving the door unlocked is like inviting us into his room so idk what he expected.

The next morning was my last in town, and given all the airport drama the first go ’round, I wasn’t looking forward to heading back. However, Gizzy and I hit a few hot spots I had been wanting to see, we had a few beers and more junk food and we were on our way. We even ate lunch at our favorite place—Taco Bell. Holla!

Overall, an AWESOME visit!

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Ladies in Lit.

According to my new favorite blog, Chick Lit is Not Dead, May is Chick Lit Month.

Umm…can I get a holla?

It was about my junior year in college when I entered the English/creative writing program at my school. It was something I held off doing, not because I didn’t like writing, just because I thought English majors were pretentious assholes who thought they were beatniks, wore berets, black turtlenecks (think Doug’s sister Judith), and snapped their fingers instead of clapping or laughing.

When I showed up for my first advanced-level English course, literary critique, my nightmares came true. Our professor, who obsessed over Lindt chocolates, asked us to go around the room and say our favorite book.

Students were rattling off the works of Aristotle and Nietzsche. I, on the other hand, was the sex-columnist for the school paper, so I often read columns and books by other sex writers. At the time, my favorite book was Chloe Does Yale by Natalie Krinsky (Yale’s first sex columnist).

I immediately felt like an outcast, but I didn’t let that stop me from loving chick lit. Now, I read all the time. I love memoirs, some fiction, true crime, biographies, and of course, romance.

So, in honor of Chick Lit Month, I thought I would share with you some of my favorite titles (in no particular order):

LIPSTICK JUNGLE BY CANDACE BUSHNELL—I’m sure this is no shocker after you all witnessed me swooning over season one on DVD…

AT FIRST SIGHT BY NICHOLAS SPARKS—Ah, I’ve read four novels by Sparks, and they are definitely a guilty pleasure. This one has a shocking ending!

MURDER AT THE ACADEMY AWARDS BY JOAN RIVERS—did you know comic Joan Rivers wrote? I found this book in a gift shop on a cruise with Buttons. It’s a murder mystery laced with celebrities and high fashion.

THE LAST SINGLE WOMAN IN AMERICA BY CINDY GUIDRY—this is the book that made me want to write a memoir. It’s absolutely hilarious.

WHY MEN LOVE BITCHES BY SHERRY ARGOV—if you’re that “nice girl” and always get screwed in dating, you must read this book! I am still learning lessons from it.

LA CANDY & SWEET LITTLE LIES BY LAUREN CONRAD—these are the first two books of a three-book series by ms. Conrad, and they are just that: candy. I just gobble them up!

THE LAST SONG BY NICHOLAS SPARKS—I saw this movie, then read the book and it was the first Sparks’ book I read. Seriously, it was so good. Emotional, but good.

ONE FIFTH AVENUE BY CANDACE BUSHNELL—last summer, I was on a mission to read all of Bushnell’s novels. This is my favorite one!

HOLLYWOOD WIVES: THE NEW GENERATION BY JACKIE COLLINS—ah, Collins, the original Chick Lit author. This was my first Collins’ novel and I loved it. Super sexy.

JULIE & JULIA BY JULIE POWELL—I saw this movie first, loved it, then read the book. They are both very different, but both good.

STRAIGHT UP & DIRTY BY STEPHANIE KLEIN—I read this book not too long ago and was literally laughing my ass off.

NIGHTS IN RODANTHE BY NICHOLAS SPARKS—I remember coming home from work one evening, cracking open this book, and drinking an entire bottle of wine. I finished the book that night, and had a nice lil buzz.

THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE BY AUDREY NIFFENEGGER—My mom loaned my this book, she kept saying she loved it, but it was sooooo graphic. It isn’t. It’s a wonderful read.

SEX & THE CITY BY CANDACE BUSHNELL—People often forget the fabulous television series is based on a book. And it is very, very different from the show.

CHASING HARRY WINSTON BY LAUREN WEISBURGER—from the author of The Devil Wears Prada, comes another book about fabulous, powerful women!

A WOMAN TRAPPED IN A WOMAN’S BODY BY LAUREN WEEDMAN—Gizzy loaned me this book, and it was hilarious!

LOVERS & PLAYERS BY JACKIE COLLINS—my second Collins’ book and it was just as sexy as the first.

MY HORIZONTAL LIFE BY CHELSEA HANDLER—this was Handler’s first book, released before she was popular. Each chapter is a different one night stand.

Now that you’ve seen the Chick Lit books I’ve read and loved enough to recommend, here are some that are on my current wish list…

CLEAVING: A STORY OF MARRIAGE, MEAT, AND OBSESSION BY JULIE POWELL—all I know is there’s an affair and food involved…

EAT, PRAY, LOVE: ONE WOMAN’S SEARCH FOR EVERYTHING ACROSS ITALY, INDIA AND INDONESIABY ELIZABETH GILBERT

HOW TO BE A HEPBURN IN A HILTON WORLD: THE ART OF LIVING WITH STYLE, CLASS, AND GRACE BY JORDAN CHRISTY—self explanatory.

YOU’LL NEVER BLUE BALL IN THIS TOWN AGAIN: ONE WOMAN’S PAINFULLY FUNNY QUEST TO GIVE IT UP BY HEATHER MCDONALD—she is one of the comics on Chelsea Lately and I’m curious if she can write…

OFFICIAL BOOK CLUB SELECTION: A MEMOIR ACCORDING TO KATHY GRIFFIN BY KATHY GRIFFIN

AUDITION: A MEMOIR BY BARBARA WALTERS—my grandmother loved Barbara Walters, so I’m interested to learn more about her.

AFTER ALL BY MARY TYLER MOORE

LAUREN CONRAD STYLE BY LAUREN CONRAD—love her style!

SUGAR AND SPICE BY LAUREN CONRAD—book 3!

I DO, NOW WHAT?: SECRETS, STORIES, AND ADVICE FROM A MADLY-IN-LOVE COUPLE BY GIULIANA RANCIC

IF YOU HAVE TO CRY, GO OUTSIDE: AND OTHER THINGS YOUR MOTHER NEVER TOLD YOU BY KELLY CUTRONE—I love this woman!

NORMAL GETS YOU NOWHERE BY KELLY CUTRONE

SUMMER AND THE CITY BY CANDACE BUSHNELL

TRADING UP BY CANDACE BUSHNELL

Well now that you know all my Chick Lit obsessions‚ I’ve got to know about yours! Let’s hear it…

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