Tag Archives: weddings

The Rise and Fall of Crack Day

This past week I got to be the dumper instead of the dumpee.  No, I wasn’t lucky enough to dump an actual guy. I dumped Starbucks, and left it crying on the curb like a little baby.

You see, I haven’t always been a coffee advocate.  After hearing about the Pumpkin Spice Latte for literally the past decade, I decided to give it a try this year.  And then I became obsessed, and then it was all I talked about, and then I got my mom, my aunt, and my 9 year old sister obsessed too and we would have PSL parties on the weekend mornings and run around for the next 6 hours like crackheads in a crackhouse. And then when we came down from our high we would tell each other that we looked like crackwhores. Because we did. Sunken, tired eyes, aimlessly wandering around trying to remember what we needed to do before we drank the PSL. Yes I know, I am a horrible horrible person, I got a 9 year old addicted to espresso. But what the fuck ever, Italians let their kids drink espresso and they turn out all right.


jersey shore

Right?

Then I found this food challenge I wanted to try. It’s 30 days long and while you can have 1 cup of black coffee a day, we all know that the PSL is no where close to being black coffee. So I had to quit. Lucky suggested that I just straight up eat espresso beans like a fiend, but I think for the sake of everyone else I’ll just stop with the coffee all together. 

So that brings us to the breakup. You see, Fridays were my crack day. I would wake up with a shit eating grin on my face every Friday, first and foremost because it was Friday, but also because I got the crack on Fridays. My PSL and my cinnamon roll.

cinnamon heaven

(I’m convinced that in Heaven people swim in PSL and have cinnamon roll pillows.)

Each Friday I would get to work throw my shit down and skip off to Starbucks without a care in the world. After a few weeks my co-workers started to notice that after returning from my coffee run, I would ping from the walls for the next 4-6 hours and get absolutely no office related work done. I became a different person, I was a sociable spaz and told people (everyone, separately) in the office my opinions on things like cloth diapers and flavored beer. No one cared, but they loved it. After about a month of said behavior, when I would come to work on Fridays some would chant, “Crack day! Crack day! Crack day!” The pressure became too much, so when I decided to do the 30 day challenge I had to break it to everyone that the coming Friday would be my final crack day.  They cried, but they’ll get over it. Eventually.

When I went to Starbucks for my Final Crack Day, I broke the news to Jake the Barista (Baristo? What the hell do you call boy Baristas?) that he would not see me for at least the next month, possibly forever if I could withstand it, and that I really appreciated him always warming my cinnamon roll to the perfect temperature, hot enough to melt the frosting but not so hot that it burnt my mouth.  Jake was sad to see me go, he even drew little sad faces on my cup. But at last, we parted ways.

And that is how I dumped the PSL and cinnamon roll. The best relationship I’ve ever had.

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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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