Tag Archives: the captain

Promo Girl/Lebron James Politics

So does Camille Grammer have anal leakage or what? Every time I type in my little log on and password and head to our dashboard I see this:

top searches

camille grammer anal leakage

I know it’s not uncommon for our blog to yield as a search result when people google disgusting things such as anal leakage, since I did use that as an example of something that someone might ask our advice on, but what I don’t get is who the eff out there wants to read about Camille Grammer’s anal leakage? I mean #1 how do you even get anal leakage and #2 Why do you want to read about it? Tell me this please.  You, the one googling anal leakage, you have some explaining to do, SHOW YOURSELF!

Speaking of anal leakage, has everyone seen that new facebook feature where you can ‘view a friendship’? I did this with several of my friends and was slightly disturbed by my own sense of humor when that video I posted last week of the fat guy licking his man boobs to “I kissed a girl” came up on 98% of my friendship pages.  Sigh. I think I might need a life coach.  The other 2% of my friends had a picture of a mexican fiesta pop up when I tried to plan a cruise to Cabo Wabo with my college friends and the only one who agreed to go was Anth.  Thumbs DOWN.

So, today’s post is about being a promo girl.  You think you have what it takes?

The first step is to select your category, are you:

1. Preppy/Think your shit don’t stank?

2. Hot, drunk, and stupid

3.  Ugly, old, and fat

4. a hodge podge of races with fluctuating weight

If you chose 1, congratulations you can be like me! You can work for Captain Morgan, Crown Royal, Jose Cuervo, Ursus, and many more!

If you chose 2, today is your first day of Jagarmeister rush! ON THE GROUND!

If you chose 3, you are an imported beer queen.  Heineken, dos equis? At your service gramps!

If you chose 4, I’m sorry.  You are a miller girl.

I probably fit better into category #2 because you know, drunk. But I take what I can get.

In all seriousness I have a question/favor to ask of you, our loyal readers.  Do you guys think I could charge a fee for people to hang out with me? Like as a service? I would name the company, “You’ve got a friend in Gizzy” like nerds who don’t have friends could call me up and pay me like $50 and I would let them get me drunk infront of their co-workers or something/I could wear something “showy” for added impressment (thanks for the idear, Anth.)

I ask because I am bombing interviews left and right and my life has actually come down to the point where I think my stepmom is getting me a job.  Which makes me sad.  Because I wanted to move far away and be all independent woman and come home for the 4th of July and be like, “Hey everyone meet my hot actor boyfriend, his name is Zac Efron.  Yeah the one from high school musical.  What about Vanessa? Oh he dumped her when he met me because god she is like sooooo 2009.”  But it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anymore, because at one point it did.  When I was meeting celebrities left and right and they thought I was cool.  But now I’m like Matt McFaggot, a has been in the eyes of Hollywood.

It all started when Lebron James denied me a picture, he’s the one who made hanging out with Gizzy not be cool anymore.  Meatloaf, Lynard Skynard, Drew Carey, Shawn Marion, John Mellencamp, and Candace Cameron (yep, I’m name dropping all the celebrities I have met because I am depressed but this is making it worse because nobody really knows who any of these people are anymore) all thought it was cool to hang out with me.  But no here I am paroozing around one day chit chatting with Anderson Varejao having a grand old time when Lebron comes along.

When Lebron walks up.  Like any warm blooded American would do I pull down my shirt a little and bat my eyes at him, we shoot the shit because I’m so. cool. and then ask for a picture because obviously no one would ever believe I was hanging out with Lebron James and Anderson Varejao when I’m not even from Cleveland and Lebron says, “Naw girl, just for the kids.”

After that I pretty much made it my life mission to run into Lebron again when I am famous and deny him a photo.  Like be at some awards show (the oscars, with Zac) and see Lebron pull up behind me and linger around the red carpet for him to be like, “Gizenator my girl! Lets get a pic for the paps.” And I can be like, “Naw Lebron, just for celebrities.”

Really though, I know everyone wants to know how I was hanging out with Lebron and Anderson.  A friend of mine gave me post game passes for the Cavs when they were playing the team from the state I am from.  So, I got drunk at the game and was eyeing Anderson because he seemed nice.  When Lebron walks up, vagina blocks and shatters my ego for not being a kid for the rest of my life.

So there you have it.  It was my one chance to meet a nice, successful guy and Lebron James ruined it. And I am out for revenge.  Ok, mayybbeee his hair is a little crazy but I can deal with it, he was nice and brazilian. And I am pissed all over again.

Anywho, I think I am getting set up with someone tomorrow.  My friend Betty said she has “someone she wants me to meet.”  I don’t know how I feel about this because the last time she tried to set me up with someone it was an epic fail and made me realize that she clearly has no idea what I look for in guys.  I haven’t asked any questions about this guy because honestly I don’t want to know, if I know before hand that I’m not going to like him I’ll probably try and find a way to cancel which will piss her off so best to be surprised right? RIGHT! But this last guy was baaaad, she met him at a club, he was nerdy, weird, and basically the complete opposite of everything I look for.  At one point I actually pulled her aside where she said, “He’s nice right? Why aren’t you saying a word to him?” and I had to be like, “Honestly? Do you hate me? Why would you do this?” At which point I decided to make myself seem unattractive to him so he wouldn’t ask for my number or anything.  We were at Betty’s having some drinks on her deck with her husband at the time, and our couple friends Chad and Rachel.  Chad said he wanted to go to the gas station to buy some cigarettes so I handed him my credit card and asked him to stop and get me Mcdonalds AND taco bell.  I think it worked.

It just makes me nervous, because when Betty is picking out guys for her friends they are really guys for her.  I liked her husband, he was really nice, not so much what I long for physically but you know it’s whatevs.  I guess I could hope she shows up with Kelsey Grammer, even though he’s a little old for me.  I could be Hollywood for a while.  Her current boyfriend is an archaeologist professor and talks with big words.  The 3 of us went canoeing and I remember him saying some big word and I asked what it meant and he said “water” like why wouldn’t you just say water? You’re not hanging out with jeopardy winners or anything.

Well, since Lucky’s dad is in town you guys are stuck with me all weekend.  Tonight I’m working with the Captain and The Captain’s Crystal sooo…. giddy up!

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Leave my booberry’s alone!!!!

Last night my roommate (mom) made an interesting observation and it got my wheels turning, which doesn’t happen very often.  She walked in my room to ask about my latest bout with the police and some speeding tickets I had acquired and failed to mention, but mid conversation she interrupted herself asking very loudly, “ARE YOU EATING BOOBERRY’S AND WATCHING AMERICA’S FUNNIEST HOME VIDEOS?!!!! NO WONDER YOU DON’T HAVE A JOB!” I said, “Mom’s I’m right here you don’t have to yell.”  She went on about how when she was 25 she had a 2 year old baby, a mortgage, TWO car payments, and a husband to look after.  I simply explained that it was her choice and that I’m sure had she explored her options grandma would have let her live at home into her late 20’s and fed her whatever cereal she fancied.  Then she asked if I would be sitting at my dining room table in the mornings eating booberry’s with my kids and watching cartoons.  I told her that I imagined I would.  I mean I’m sorry, no offense to you people that eat your wheaties and your raisin bran, but what the fuck.  When I eat those cereals I may as well be licking cardboard and if I am going to splurge with the cals on something in my day by god it is going to be booberry’s to start my day out right.  As I’m finishing up the last few bites of booberry’s and sipping my milk my roommate gets annoyed and grabs my bowl o booberrys out of my hands and takes it to the kitchen. So there I was left with booberry milk drizzle down my chin to tide me over until morning. Now, on to America’s funniest home videos.  It’s my favorite show, Lucky hates it, but I think whoever thought of it was genius and it is basically my life goal to be the person in charge of what goes on the show.  Imagine this, I’m at my high school reunion sitting at the V.I.P. table eating my booberry’s when my high school crush walks up and asks if he can have some booberry’s I say, “I guess” and snap my fingers at my personal assistant to get him a bowl of booberry’s and he asks what I do and I tell him, “I get paid to watch home videos.”  Imagine the things I would see, forget the news.  AFV is where you learn things.

This all made me think about how much I have really grown up.  Which is not much.  I still love spaghettios, lunchables, and fruit snacks.  But now I think asparagus tastes alright but I will never think sausage is cool.  It looks like a dehydrated turd.  Think about that the next time you order a meatlovers pizza, dehydrated turds baked right in! And they’re chewy. How can you sausage lovers live with yourselves?

As you can tell I am searching for everything and anything to blog about because my life is spiraling down the toilet.  So, I have decided to share my life goals, which is mostly a list of occupations I would like to have, in no particular order:

1. Host The Price Is Right, Let’s Make A Deal, AND The Family Fued (MULTI-TASKER)

2. Be in charge of picking out background music for Gossip Girl

3. Be Donald Trump

4. Win Miss America

I actually enrolled myself in my alma mater’s Miss America foundation pageant, the winner got to go to the state pageant and the winner of that went on to Miss America.  I show up to the call out and the first thing they do is say, “At SHIT U this is not a beauty pageant, we judge solely on your interview and speech.”  Take note, if it was a beauty pageant I would have won.  Not because I’m so jaw dropping beautiful or anything but my school was 70% male and 30% female and 20% of the females were from foreign countries where they don’t believe in bathing or into agriculture so they all smelled and had personal hygiene problems, we’re talking about cow dung under the nails hygiene problems.  IF it was a beauty contest I would’ve been a shoe in but IF it was a beauty contest my competition would have been different.  Apparently the other hygienic girls of SHIT U had already gotten this memo so I got up and walked out.  I mean seriously they were going to judge me based on what kind of speech I could put together about cow’s with colon cancer rather than how good my boobs look in a bikini, which is what they would be judged on in the next round? NEXT.  I should’ve transfered schools right then and there because now I am too old and I feel like I really missed my calling.  A girl that had quarter of an inch long hair, black nail polish, and was wearing the earrings that stretch the holes in your ears out is the one who won.  I made all my friends go with me to the pageant for my 21st birthday and I sat in the back row and sobbed because not only did she take MY crown that  I would have paraded around campus in so gloriously she didn’t even show up to the state pageant and forfeit any chance at Miss America.  I also went out to the bars for the first time the night of the pageant wearing a tiara my friends had bought me for my birthday signing autographs and telling people I won Miss SHIT U earlier that day.  Yep.

5.  Win an Olympic medal for gymnastics (Also now too old and rickety for this)

6. Be a homemaker

7. Be a world renowned surgeon and marry a hot doctor (EXACTLY like on Grey’s Anatomy)

8.  Find someone to marry who looks exactly like Josh Duhamel 😦

9. Marry a celebrity

10. Teach every cheating lying asshole in the world A LESSON.  mwhahaa

11. Be president.

12. Stop eating old candy out of my purse.

As you can see, I am in serious need of a life coach to pull me out of my childhood la la land (because my goals haven’t changed much since I was 10) and send me back to reality.  I honest to god think I am accomplish these goals what with having no background in any of them.  I can do it!

Well, tonight I will be traveling back to SHIT U to get my drinky on.  Drama to look forward to: The Captain, The Captain’s Crystal, HOTTIE MCHOTTERSON & CO, Merdie, and possibly douchearoo will all be in attendance.  Something eventful to spice up my life and yours will surely be happening in t-minus 9 hours. Tick tock!

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And a sext message in a pear tree…

Does it make me a tool if I looooooveeee full coverage underwear? I’m not talking like full on grannies.  I’m talking about boy shorts that cover everything.  I just put on a fresh pair and my area is in France and everybody is in bed for the night.

Side note: Just got this text from The Captain, “On a scale of 1 to 10 how good is my body? Be honest.”  I bet you guys can’t waaaaiiiit to hear what happened.  Mwhahaaaaa.

Anyway, back to my underwear.  I had a hankering for some Mcdonald’s last night after I saw the episode of Sex and The City where Carrie throws le filet o fish and le big mac at Mr. Big, so I got up out of my bed and went and got me some.  When I returned home and was walking through my garage I stepped in something wet and slipped and nearly fell to my death when my ass smacked the ground in my full coverage underwear.  It took that for me to realize I had just gone to Mcdonald’s wearing no shoes, no bra, and no pants.   After I heard my ass hit the cement I decided it was time to start working out.  After I ate my Big Mac and fries. MONOPOLY!

I rolled out of bed in the morning and power walked a 5k.  I was pretty proud of myself but I seriously think I was 10 steps away from  a heart attack.  I only weigh 115 pounds but it’s about 110 pounds of flub.  My heart was the little engine that could and it held out but I don’t know what I’m going to do about this.  All I can picture is my little heart in my chest with his fists up trying to punch the Hamburgler in the face to fight off the fat and grease but his reach is too short and the Hamburgler wins. And the Hamburgler WINS!  If I die of a heart attack I want you to make sure my headstone says EXACTLY this, “To the victor go the spoils, the Hamburgler wins again!”

Now that I am simultaneously writing this blog and sexting with The Captain I’ll just go ahead and spill the I’m Sorry I Suck beans.  The Plan was supposed to go into action Sunday afternoon.  I was all set up with rope (duct tape) and a blindfold (t-shirt) to teach The Captain a lesson.  We walked in his apartment after work and find Raymundo, The Captain’s asian french speaking roommate, sitting on a bean bag looking like he had no intentions of going anywhere for a while. While The Captain went and changed out of his polar bear costume:

I had a little chitty chat with Raymundo where he told me his plans for the day were to sit infront of the tv and start watching Dexter from season 1.  He had rented all 5.  Hooray! So I pushed the plan back and told The Captain I had to skeedattle.  I didn’t want to do it with Raymundo there because what’s the fun in that if he gets untied 5 minutes after I leave? I probably should’ve just manned up and done it because it’s all only getting more intense, he’s starting to call regularly and want to see me regularly and I am beginning to run out of excuses and he’s not bad at sexting either, anybody wanna see a little word porn? OK! Here’s what he sent me tonight, keep in mind my responses were nothing like his and topped out at an OMG, OH WOW, or yeah that sounds good.

Captain: Do you like soft kisses up your body then my hand grabbing your hair and just… you know.

Captain: What about a massage then soft kisses on your neck and down your back

Captain: Well do you like feathers? Me not touching you blowing feathers up and down your chest then stomach then massage you wherever you want (the feather thing is totes from 40 days and 40 nights, ah Josh Hartnett)

*OK, So right here is where I felt I needed to contribute to the conversation so I said what about whipped cream? Continue…*

Captain: Whipped cream is too sticky, I’ll just lick you.  I love to lick even though someone doesn’t like it but I’m good at it just a side note

Sccccreeeeeeeeettttttccchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

That’s the sexting bus wheels coming to a fucking stop.  You love to lick even though SOMEONE doesn’t like it.  He’s going to have to pay another $19.95 if he wants this session to continue.  I don’t think so.  I replied saying goodnight.  Hopefully he gets that next time why not just invite Captain’s Crystal into the conversation so she can add her 2 cents in as well.  Christ.

He also sent me a good morning text today and a little treat for you all:

Basically the EXACT same picture as last time only closer, but totally completely different.  I mean gosh.  But this one is different and borders on pornographic so kids, hide your eyes! BLINDFOLDS!

So I apologize that this was not my last post about The Captain, but it’s coming, hopefully before anything else too crazy happens, Captain’s Crystal just posted on my facebook wall asking me to go out with then tonight.   THIS IS JUST MADNESS!! Just hang on to your little pirate hats and we’ll be on our way…

In other boy news I got a friend request on facebook the other day from none other than, are you ready for it ready for it, drumroll please……….

DOUCHEAROO!!!!

I pondered accepting for a while, because I can still creep on his ugly ass because his profile is open however mine is closed.  Did I really want him looking at my pictures? I look good, so why the hell not.  I accepted.  For the blog. I give the new friend status a week to marinate before I get a text saying, “Hey facebook friend,” mark my words.  1 week.  If I have nothing to blog about that day, maybe I’ll respond to stir the drama pot a little.  1 week.

And I got another rejection letter from a company, I’m starting to get really upset:

Dear Gisabelle,

Thank you for your continued interest in BP and the position of Fart Knocker. We regret to inform you that BP
has decided not to progress with the selection of any candidates for this particular position.

We would like to invite you to apply for other positions that are closely aligned with your qualifications and interests as they arise. To access these opportunities through BP™s website go to
http://www.bp.com/careers. We encourage you to register for job alerts by
creating a Search Agent that will notify you about future opportunities that may be of interest.

Again, thank you for considering BP as a potential employer. We wish you every success with your career.

Sincerely,

BP Global Recruitment

So don’t hate me because I applied to BP.  I NEED A JOB! I figured that no one else is going to apply there because people want to blow them up so why wouldn’t they hire me? Instead they decide to hire NO ONE.  Like, fucking come on!? Give a girl a break.  If anyone out there reading this feels sorry enough for me to give me a job in finance email me cocktailsattiffanys@gmail.com I promise I’m not as big of a sloth as I seem.  I’ll relocate!

And that’s where I hit rock bottom.  Begging readers for a job.

Well it’s almost time for the Teen Mom repeat, I’ve had 5!!!!! redbulls and I am ready for this hour and a half finale.  I cannot wait.  So glad I made it out of my teenage years without getting preggers.  God bless abstinence and crooked teeth. Amen.

P.S. Welcome back Lappy!

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BUH-BYE Captain!

Guys I think I’m depressed.  I know I’m in a rut, but I think it’s getting worse.  Here’s how my day goes, I wake up around 10 (noon) and realize that I have a few hours before my roommates (mom & sister) get home.  So it’s like panic sets in and I think what do I need/want to do before they get home in 2 hours? Usually it’s laying in my bed doing nothing which is what I do all night too, but its like from the second I wake up the countdown starts of when they’ll be home.  I know this is all because I want to move out RULL bad so that I can come home from work and lounge around and do whatever the eff I want like I did in college.  And I don’t feel comfortable doing that at home, I feel like they’re all looking at me like GAWD look at that lazy sloth, has she even left the house in the past week? The answer is no, I have not.  Actually yes I did, to get taco bell and then it was BACK TO BED! Everybody is like oh you need to be productive BLAH BLAH BLAH.  Productive doing what? I don’t have errands to run.  Looking for jobs? I do that all goddamned day from my bed throne.  I can’t go interview until the people call me, and while they’re not calling me I’m sitting here eating laffy taffys and watching Kardashian and Jersey Shore repeats until I can recite every ooh and ahh in every episode.  Why don’t I get a gym membership and shut my lazy sloth mouth? Because gym memberships cost money and I don’t like to spend money.  Why don’t I get a part time job? I have one, it’s called slanging Captain Morgan!!  But Gizzy, that’s not a real part time job.  YES IT IS! I make $200 a week slanging Captain, which is more then I would make working at some joe schmo retail store.  Then I need to shut up and enjoy my last days of doing nothing before I get a real job and want to kill myself? Oook, I’ll try.

I finally told the Captain to fuck off and die.  Not really, but it’s coming! Yeah ok he was a hot piece of ass but he is an asshole and I’m about 90% sure he’s gay.  Two days ago he was telling me how awesome he thinks I am and how he wants to “get to know me” and not just have sex with me right? And I didn’t buy it and I also didn’t believe that him and Captain’s Crystal had really broken up.  Yesterday morning after Captain’s Crystal’s night o birthday fun I look at her facebook page and see this status:

Had a FANTASTIC BIRTHDAY!! The Captain sure knows how to spoil me! 🙂 Hot Tubs, Massages, Diamonds … what is this world coming to?!?! HAHA – off for Birthday Sushi with Dad! ♥♥

I knew that this was probably the case.  But I think I’m more surprised at the “Hot Tubs, Massages, and DIAMONDS” part, those are not signs of someone who is or has dumped their girlfriend.  AND WTF, DIAMONDS!? No man has ever gotten me diamonds, other than my father, or jewelry for that matter.  I must be horrible in bed.  Tell me, HOW DO I GET DIAMONDS!?!! So in honor of Lucky and single girls everywhere, I’m going to fuck with him 1 last time this weekend when we work together to really reel him in and show that douche WHAT THE FUCK IS UP then, I’m giving him THE FADE! BOOYAH BITCHES!

I really don’t think this jerk-off knows who he is messing with.  I single handedly turned all of Snoop-Linus’ friends against him and recruited them for Team Gizzy when he took Whore #3 on a date.  I have the power of persuasion.

So, I could tell Captain’s Crystal what he’s been up to, but I’m thinking why end the show early? You don’t go to an all you can eat buffet so you can have a salad and leave. If she’s stupid enough to have no clue what her boyfriend is up to when she’s not around he’ll strike again and the next girl probably won’t be as smart as me and get out while the gettin’ is good before it gets too messy, and I can sit back and laugh because I was the one who got away MWHAAHA.  Such a deviant awesomely awesome plan I have here. But what about girl code and she needs to know what he is doing behind her back!!? FUCK girl code, I say.  She wouldn’t leave him anyway.  What I’m thinking about is playing it cool and acting normal until the next time he invites me to do something then I’m going to storm in like a horny beast, rip his clothes off, tie him to the bed, blind fold him, take a picture for the blog and peace the fuck out and leave him there for Captain’s Crystal to find.  Naked and vulnerable.  BAHAH.  For real, I’m sick of guys thinking they can get away with this shit.  So my new official job/title shall be Miss Gisabelle P.I. saving the world one cheating asshole at a time.  Sounds pretty official.

And for old times sake since this will be my 2nd to last post about the Captain (the last one being how I reeled him in, it’s going to be so juicy I can’t wait) I have listed more contributing factors to why he is secretly gay:

-Left me a voicemail saying he was going tanning

-Gets really into cooking, got this text from him after I told him I needed some dinner: it’s all about creation and loving to do it, knowing a lot of tastes. You have to try a lot of nasty stuff in order to make something really good. Kind of like dating.

-He also likes to use analogies.

-He refers to himself as being a mix between new and old fashioned (on getting to know me before he sticks his wien in me)

-He doesn’t take advantage of drunk girls (Why the eff not?)

-He hangs out a little too often alone with his gay best friend and his gay best friend’s boyfriend.  I mean I love me some gays too, but that’s weird right?

So I went from 2 guys, back to no guys this week.  Meeting 100 guys for the 100th post is starting to look better and better.  I hope someone is coming up with a diet and work out plan for us after the 100th post because we are going to have to drink, A LOT, to pull that one off.  We’re also going to need that if we have to eat 100 chocolates.  I did the math to Lucky the other day (I don’t think she was as impressed with my skills as I was) and if we have to eat 100 godiva chocolates we’ll gain about 8 pounds each.  I’d kind of like to try it just so I can see how many chocolates it takes for my body to be on a chocolate overdose before it starts rejecting the chocolates to the point where it literally won’t let me swallow another chocolate.   Maybe we should’ve had an all of the above option on the poll? That would’ve been my vote. I think I’ll do them all anyway, what else do I have to do? It’s just subbing chocolates in for the laffy taffy.  Another day another dollar, no sweat off my back.

I’m also not opposed to giving out The Captain’s phone number for those of you who are into some late night sexting in order to sway your vote toward the option I want for the 100th post.  I mean for realzzzzz, let me know! Maybe you’ll get some pictures like….


So here we say our final goodbyes to the Captain, sianara asshole and a big SU-FI to you!

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Captain Single!

HO-LA! First and foremost can we have a moment of silence for Lucky’s lappy.  R.I.P. lappy.  Secondly, I would like to apologize for my leave of absence, I’ve been doing research for the blog.  Research of the male anatomy.  Badabing!

Last time in my dream world The Captain was large and in charge with a girlfriend.  Everything is the same.  Except sans girlfriend.  I think. I’ll take a moment for you to do your happy dance.

We had our first date Sunday night and since then we have gotten into approximately 434242340593 arguments.  But they are hot.  We went to a steakhouse, I ordered steak he ordered chicken.  We can all see who wears the pants in this relationship. That’s me, Gizzy the pants wearer.  And we went to see social network followed by a hot make out sesh and some heavy petting.  We went on our 2nd date Monday night for frozen yogurt and another movie.  All is right with the world and now we can get married and have lots of babies with little baby abs right? No.

Yesterday he called me slightly less than a gazillion times because he has a nasty butt dialing habit, so every day I get about 4 voicemails where I can listen to him at the bank, or singing along to Miley in his car, or even him hanging out with a girl. Which is what happened yesterday.  I couldn’t decipher the whole conversation since the message was a little muffled but from what I rounded up it sounded like him and Mystery Woman were having a conversation involving the words, “You need to try harder,” coming from her.  Then I get a text from Captain’s Ex Crystal asking if I can cover her shift on Sunday.  I say sure and ask if The Captain has the materials and she says, let me ask him, and .2 seconds later responds with yep he says he does.   Riddle me this, Mystery Woman + Captain + Convo about something where The Captain needs to “try harder” + Captain’s Crystal getting a response out of The Captain asking if he has my materials BEFORE The Captain responds to my text asking why his butt wants to talk to me so bad = The Captain did not really break up with Captain’s Crystal and they were hanging out.  This is just a hunch.  So I think I have fallen for some trickery.  And I’m ok with it, because you know what I got a steak, a bottle of wine, some custard, and 2 movies out of it.   So all is fair in love and war as long as I’m getting free stuff.

Last night I go to where The Captain and The Captain’s Crystal go to school to see my friend who is in visiting her parents and swing by The Captain’s to get my Captain garb for the weekend.  You all know how this story goes, he looked good, things happened, clothes got ripped, condoms were snapping and babies were made.  That’s how it went in my head.  But what really happened was he got uber pissed off because I told him I couldn’t hang out with him anymore, sober.  Yeah, why I couldn’t just leave it as I can’t hang out with you anymore?  I had to throw in sober. When I’m drunk, of course I’ll come running back for some hot hot lovin’.  So instead of telling me how he really feels he takes it out on the box he’s shoving into my trunk.

About an hour later he calls and I get this voicemail, “Look I’m angry about this because I didn’t just want to have sex with you I wanted to build something with you…” he rambled on and on about how I’m the most awesome person he’s ever met, but you don’t want to hear about that.  The first line is what is pertinent to the rest of the story.   I think this is the first time any guy has ever actually pulled that line on me.  So, he’s 22 (yes, I’m still 25) and he doesn’t just want sex? He must be gay.  It’s all a cover up, this whoooole thing is just so I will go and tell all of our Captain pals about how vagina crazy he is.  Anyway, at the end of the voicemail he yammers on about how he is going to take everything slow because he wants to “get to know me” I think what he really wants is to get to know my boobs.  But, I’ll keep thinking of him as a playa playa and see what else I can conjure up about Mystery Woman and if he really broke up with Captain’s Crystal.  I hope you all know I do this for the blog, and essentially for you.  I don’t love drama so much that I go out looking for it. BAHAHA I almost had myself convinced on that one.  That’s a lie, I love drama.  Bring. It. On.

In other news I got rejected by Gargles Swab.  That means they think I’m a loser in layman’s terms and didn’t give me the job.   I see now why they had to have all that security because I want nothing more than to bust in there right now and demand that they give me $75.  $50 for gas and $25 for emotional suffering.  I think it would hold up in court.  And I bet they would give it to me. Especially when they found me hand cuffed to Josh Duhamel’s desk demanding a good pillaging or money.  I’m not really this big of a whore.  I just like to joke about it.  That’s not true either, I am.  Actually I’m not.  I’m just going to stop.

I missed teen mom last night. So naturally I’m so pissed off today that I want to punch someone’s lights out.  Here’s the thing with having children.  My mom wasn’t a teen mom, she was actually 42 when she had my sister but she did something wrong.  Yesterday my sister pulls me into her room to show me the 5 Justin Bieber posters she hung on her wall

Then my roommate (mom) comes in and tells me that she pretends Justin Bieber is her brother and Selena Gomez is her sister.  I mean, so what the fuck am I? The red headed step child? Guess so! Because then my roommate (mom) tells me that when my sister wakes up in the middle of the night she asks what Justin Bieber is doing and my roommate (mom) says, “Oh he’s in his room playing his guitar.”  And when they went to Khols the other day she was asking if “bubby” could stay in the car.  Personally, I think my mom needs to start checking her backpack for drugs.  Because the kid is on some psychedelics.  And here’s the other thing, if whatever she is on makes her see Justin Bieber, Lucky and I want some.

I’m going to bid you ado with this, my future family portrait.

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Toilet Seat or Josh Duhamel?

Goddamn guys, I am exhausted.  Lucky and I had a hard night at work tonight.  Somewhere in the mix of 5 months that we’ve had The Blog I have become obsessed with the monthly chart.  Like to the point where I think it is my actual job to meet “goals” that I made up in my head for us and constantly refer to “The Chart” as if it’s a greater being.  Which it is. The daily and weekly I can give or take but the monthly numbers, THEY HAS TO GO UP EVERY SINGLE MONTH! That’s the big time. So tonight Lucky and I found and commented on a few new blogs trying to bring in some new readers so that I didn’t have an aneurism when we didn’t meet the goal and essentially making ourselves famous (WELCOME! NEW READERS!) (AND WASSSUUPP to our loyal readers that have been here from the beginning.)  Anyway, we found some hilarrrious and awesome blogs to stay tuned into and share with you guys.  And in case anyone is wondering, we did not meet the goal (off by 8 hits! 8!!!!!!), and I hate myself.  My ultimate goal is to say what they say on the preview for The Social Network, “The website got 22000 hits.  In an hour.” We all need dreams.

On that note, I’m winding down the night with some hint of lime tortilla chips, raisinets, merlot and a glass of milk.  No I’m not pregnant.  I hope.  Actually… maybe? I have sat on some pretty questionable toilet seats this month.  Imagine what my parents would do, “Mom, Dad, I’m pregnant. YAY!” After we brought my mother back to life I would imagine they would ask who the father was and I’d have to be like, “Well…. seee…. that’s the thinggg…. it’s a toilet seat baby.” And then they would call me a liar, and my dad would definitely call the baby a bastard.  Or maybe just toilet seat baby.  It would never have a real name though.  I guess we would call it TSB for short so the other kids don’t make fun of it.  Then when I gave toilet seat baby away at her wedding, the preacher would say who gives this woman away.  And I would have to stand up and say, “This toilet seat and I.” And then when they had the daughter father dance I could attach some golden wheels to the bottom of the toilet seat so she could stand on him and glide around the dance floor like the good old days when she was a baby.  No.  Come on guys, stop it, I’m not pregnant.

In other news, I got a half naked picture of The Captain via The Text Message yesterday and I have to say, Gizzy doesn’t hate it. Lucky told me she thought it was weird that he was sitting at home in the afternoon raising his shirt and taking pics for me, which it is, but Gizzy still doesn’t hate it.  Oh you want to see, ok…

I hope that everyone can finally see what I see. I mean so he is kind of dumb, and maybe likes boys and furry hats.  But who cares, right? I have flaws too.  I drink and I cuss too much.  See? It’s a compromise! All about the give and take.  BUT, the whole girlfriend thing is starting to get in the way.  Tonight I actually got a text from him saying, “Watch the texting Captain’s Crystal will be with me.” A-SCUSIE?! Here’s the thing, I don’t text unless I am texted.  Hmmkay.  And that’s exactly what I told him.  I actually tried to cut off ties the other day by being like, “Hey this isn’t cool you have a girlfriend, talk to me when your single. Only text me about work related things.” (Lucky’s words.  Verbatim.) (On that note, just received  a text from him right this second: “Hey Sexy” whyyyy whyyy does he make it so hard!? I want to be like, “Come over, take my clothes off!” But as I always say, I’m classy.) But anyway, the only texting about work thing lasted like oh A DAY! Then he goes on saying that he’ll keep the texting light (right! “Hey sexy” is so “light”) because as long as nothing physical happens again then we’re not doing anything wrong.  Well no.  He is young, hot, and dumb.  It’s totally wrong.  So wrong.  Bad, bad, bad.  Anyway, I figure this weekend I’ll find a way to let him down gently and tell him to stop sending me half naked pictures, as much as I love them and they make my day a little bit better I have to put my foot down.

And on a completely different note, tomorrow I have my final interview with Gargles Swab.  Which I hope everyone else is as excited about as I am because if I get the job that means a whole new set of guys and a whole new set of drama. Mwhahaha.  We’ll grow up.  Someday.  This is what I want to happen, when I went for the info session I saw a guy sitting at a desk that looked just like Josh Duhamel:

And my goal is to make him take me on a date and possibly marry and impregnate me.  Ok, so get your thinking caps ready because if I get to that office I’m going to need every charismatic line to use that you people have got.  Oh! How exciting! I’ve already been working on The Bend And Snap in front of my mirror tonight.  It’s legit.  This guy might be my dream man.  Just letting everyone know so when we get married you all can say, “I remember when she posted on her anonymous blog that she knew he was the one.” And everyone can awe and ding their glasses for us to kiss, and then we’ll go on a perfect honeymoon, and come back to our perfect house, and have some perfect babies, and life will just be perfect.  Yeah, I totally realize that I have two different scenarios of how my life post babies will be, and one is with what might be the most attractive man on the planet and the other with a toilet seat, but a girl’s got to have options. Especially in this economy. I also need to know which of these you guys think would work best given he doesn’t like me right off the bat (which is what will most likely happen.)
#1 I could pull the “Lets set each other up on a blind date” move and then say the girl backed out and go myself.
#2 Be best friends with him and hope he falls in love with all of my mannerisms (Again, see: Win A Date With Tad Hamilton(Josh Duhamel, this is perfect.)
#3 Ask if he wants to get drunk together and hope he goes for it when I fall and my lips land on his.
#4 Slip him the date rape drug and get pregnant so he is stuck with me forever.
Any winners? No? I didn’t think so. Back to the boards guys.

I’ve talked enough crazy for one day, it’s go time.  Vote for Gizzy!


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