Tag Archives: women

Hold tight kids!

A post is on it’s way… a RHYMING post summarizing mine and Lucky’s adventures while she was here.  But you know what, wordpress deleted (or maybe I forgot to save it?) all the hard work I did last night so it’s only halvsie ready.  But everyone get excited and let the anticipation build….

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I wish I had a PIMP right now.

Yesterday started out seemingly normal, I got to work an hour after every one else and got twice as much work done in the time I was there, nothing too out of the ordinary.   Right before lunch I felt it.  The beloved cramps that mother nature brings us lovely ladies every single god forsaken month.  Any male readers/women who are confused about their gender that don’t want to hear about my period should stop reading now.

So, I start digging through my potato sack of a purse to find a tampon and come up with nothing.  I go out to my car and look, nothing. So now what? I knew I had seen some of those dispensers in the bathroom with quarter tampons so figured I would just get a quarter and buy one of those.  I didn’t have a quarter so I had to take the long way around the predicament and gathered up all of the nickels and dimes roaming free in the bottom of my purse and headed down to the soda machine to insert my money and then hit the change button, it gives you quarters every time! I know I’m a genius, you don’t have to tell me.

First, I went into the unisex single stall bathroom so that I could purchase my tampon in peace without having office rumors flying around about how Gizzy was caught in the ladies room buying quarter tampons out of the dispenser.  I placed my quarter in the little slot and turned the oh holy crank as far as it would go and it got stuck.  I practically ripped the dispenser out of the wall trying to get the effing tampon out and it still didn’t work.  I decided my options were to face my demons and either go to the public ladies room to buy a quarter tampon or to buy a quarter pad, “napkin” as the dispenser and I like to call them, out of this private dispenser.

I chose the public restroom, hoping that no one would see me.  But of course I didn’t have another quarter so roaming in my purse I went again.  Finally I was faced with tampon dispenser #2 and…The. Same. Thing. Happened.  Ok! “Napkin” it is.  Nope.  After literally spending $6 to try and get a tampon or “napkin” out of every dispenser in the building I decided I was going to pick the lock on the dispenser in the single stall unisex restroom.  Why not right?  I sure as hell earned my fucking quarter tampon.

**Q & A Intermission** – I know what you’re all thinking…

Q: Gizzy! You’re so stupid, why didn’t you just ask someone for a tampon?

A: I’ll get to that later on in the story

Q: You nerd tard, why didn’t you just go to a CVS, they’re on every corner?

A: Because I work in the heart of the ghetto and I would shove an empty toilet paper roll up there before I’d venture out in the ghetto and risk getting shot, mugged, and raped.

Q: Gizzy! You’re a woman, every woman knows to have back up tampons in their purse and car.

A: Normally I do, but I used all of those last month when I didn’t know Aunt Flow was on her way and forgot to replenish my stock.  WHICH, will never EVER happen again.

Q: Ok, you’ve made your point, quarter tampons were your only option, carry on…

So I was finally able to pick the dispenser lock and what to I find? An empty dispenser and it appears as though that jank as dispenser has never even seen a tampon or “napkin” a day in it’s fricking life.

I stood in the unisex single stall and started to weep.  I wept because I am too old to be in this situation but mostly because I really wished I had a PIMP.  Oh, how handy a pimp would’ve been.  Granted I would’ve been washing my PIMP out in my office sink, but still, it’s the thought of never being tampon/”napkin”less that matters.

Now my options were to ask all of the women in my office for a tampon/”napkin” or make myself a diaper out of toilet paper.  I tried the diaper thing once in 8th grade when I went on a weekend vacation to my friend’s parent’s friend’s house because I was 13 and embarrassed that I started my period and forgot my “napkins” (back when I wore them) so when it was my turn to shower I turned on the shower and dug through the bathroom cabinets to find materials to make a sturdy diaper for myself.  Really? Could I be any grosser? I was 13 seeping sweat and nastyness as it was, didn’t shower, and then I wore a diaper for a weekend.  I just…have no words.

Anyway, the diaper idea was out for obvious reasons.  Even though I already knew the answer from every woman in my office would be NO they don’t have any tampons or “napkins” I can have because they’re all 15 years past menopause I embarrassed the shit out of myself anyway and asked.  As embarrassing as that was now every one was going to know I’m the one who broke all of the sanitary supply dispensers in every bathroom in the building.  I saved my boss for last because she is the youngest and my only hope and if she didn’t have one I was going to have to ask to go home.

I don’t think I’ve ever explained how my boss is a cold hearted, snide, weird, scatterbrained, freak.  Well she is and I was really hoping someone else could help me out so I didn’t have to drag her into it but alas I walked into her office with my tail between my legs and told her the situation.  “Well what do you want me to do about it?” She said.  So I didn’t even ask if she had one, I just asked if I could go home.  She said I could on 1 condition… I had to use my vacation hours.  Awesome, I’ll do that, and I’ll never come back you wretched whore.  I was gone for like an hour and a half so it’s whatever.  But, the lesson I learned is that maybe having a PIMP or two hidden under the spare tire in my hoopty wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  Something to ponder…

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Some people really are destined to be…alone.

One night, (I believe it was super bowl Sunday) Lucky and I had a long talk about how we are awkward and a-social, and how we genuinely feel there’s no one out there waiting for us.  This conversation was prompted by #1 my drugs and #2 the fact that it was Snoop-Linus’ birthday, I sent him a Happy Birthday text, and heard nothing back for almost 24 hours.  I was starting to get the feeling that I should just suck up all of Snoop-Linus’ bad habits and cheating ways and be with him, I texted Lucky for a reality check, but when it comes to the two of us we can quickly bring the other one down too, as I did with Lucky that very night.

Anyway, the point of this story is that I don’t know how to talk to people, and I’m afraid it has me doomed to be a lonely old maid or to be with what I know, someone who treats me like shit. I won’t lie, Snoop-Linus finally texted back, we got into an argument, I said some things he said some things, it was ok for a few days, and now it’s back to awful.  If I can’t even get my cheating ex-boyfriend to give me any attention, how in the EFF am I supposed to get it from a nice guy?

It’s not just men that I feel like I can’t communicate with, it’s women too.  Like I can’t even make conversation good enough/act interested enough in peoples lame stories slash lives to get a decent group of girlfriends.  It all just seems so exhausting, and that is pretty much the same way I feel about dating.  Hearing the backstory of every ex-boyfriend/girlfriend and lame friend they’ve had that got them where they are today wears me out.  I mean that’s a lot of talking, and frankly if someone wants to put it all out there I’ll put my face into a pitcher of beer and listen.  But, they better not expect me to reciprocate the stories, because if that’s the case we’re going to need something a lot stronger than beer.  And by that I mean tranquilizers and a therapist.

Of course, I have my current friends who I will listen to/whine to about my problems all day long, but that’s because I already know their stories, I know the people in the stories, and I feel comfortable giving/asking for advice.  But when you meet someone new and they are telling you all of these stories where they’re all, “Oh and THEN John drug me behind his car and left me in a dumpster for dead.” And when I say, “Oh thank god you got rid of him!” And in walks said John with their 3 kids and malshi-poo, I’m the asshole.  So unacceptable.

So here I am, 1 month in to what was supposed to be the greatest decision/fresh start of my life and I’m pretty miserable. Not because I live in the laundry room of a frat house and have curtains for walls, but because I’m too lazy to make friends or find any kind of romantic life for myself.   Even Anth doesn’t want to hang out with me anymore because I’m gross and lately have been coughing things up.  I can’t help it, I’m sick.  So now I don’t know what to do.  For the time being I’m blaming it on the -10 degree weather and the fact that I’m still “adjusting.”  But I can only use these excuses for so long until I have to suck it up and face reality: that I’m probably doomed to be alone forever.  And just in the knick of time for Valentines Day (black holiday, as you will hear it commonly referred to by Lucky and myself.)

Speaking of Valentines day, I realized yesterday that I’m in the same, slightly modified, boat that I was last year.  Last year at Valentines Day I was figuring things out with Snoop-Linus after he had cheated on me a few weeks earlier, and when it came to V-Day weekend he ignored me because I asked him to come home with me to see one of my best friends who was in from out of town.  He said no because that would cut down on drinking time with his friends.  I went alone and stayed at home for the weekend and asked my 6 year old sister to be my Valentine.  She was the best Valentine I could’ve ever asked for, I bought her a Bratz doll and she got me candy and we watched movies all day.  Of course, as soon as I woke up on actual V-day last year (which was a Sunday if you all recall) when the drinking had commenced Snoop-Linus was asking me to dinner for that night because, “There’s no one he’d rather spend Valentines day with,” I don’t think I ever got an apology for being treated like shit and ignored all weekend; I just got a dinner, that I should’ve rejected.

So, in the memory of traditions I’m asking my little sister to be my Valentine again this year.  I’m going to drive my happy ass home tonight after work to play barbies and watch cartoons all weekend, and I couldn’t be happier about that decision.  If I ever find a guy who is OK with watching Disney movies and drinking chocolate milk with my sister and I on said black holiday, he might be in the running as a decent boyfriend.  This is all Neal Bledsoe’s fault.  We could be together right now.

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And we’ll tell our children we met in front of the copy machine.

I’m back.  For good.  Totes.

I haven’t said much about my new job because up until today it was eh.  I came home every night exhausted and have had a mini-panic attack every morning on my way there.  There’s just so many numbers, I want to die.  Until yesterday, when things got interesting.

I noticed every time I went in for an interview there was this one guy who was pretty young but somehow had a big wig office.  It didn’t make sense.  Because in a company like this it’s all about loyalty and how long you’ve been there.  My boss has been there 40 years and this youngin’ has the same level of authority.  He is in a different department (but still only down the hall) so we were never formally introduced, but I think he’s hot, of course.  Plus he’s the only person on our floor even close to my age so why not make it interesting and have a work crush.

Today I walked in like any other day, had a meltdown at my desk, cried on top of my mound of paperwork, sucked it up and went on with my day.  I went to the copy machine to print out some emails when low and behold there stood big wig youngin’.  He grabbed his papers, glanced at me, walked around the corner, and then came back.  He. Came. Back.

“Hi are you the new girl over there? I’m Mike Hamanannananan.” And he shook my hand, I said uhh yep I’m Gizzy.  Then he made small talk about the school I went to and how he heard from “Mike” I was looking for a place up north and how he could be of some assistance because he just got a place up north and all that jazz.  I was kind of freaking out because durr a hot successful guy is talking to me and my mind has been mushed on college guys for the last 47 years.  I looked like a tard and went back to my desk.

I didn’t really think much of this little encounter until later on in the day when I was mulling around trying to look busy and the CFO approached me.  It went something like so:

CFO: Gizzzyyyyy… I’ve been wanting to talk to you, you know I know you’re looking for a place up north and my son just moved up there so if you needed some help he said he would be more than willing to show you the ropes and help you find a place.  Really just email me and let me know and this is how I could introduce you guys.

*CFO sees a light go off in Gizzy’s head as it appears to Gizzy that Mike is the CFO’s son, “Mike” is Mike senior, THAT’S how he got the big wig job, THAT’S how he already knows everything about me, and Dad is being matchmaker and Dad approves.

I didn’t tell CFO that I had already spoken to Mike and he is a big boy and came up and introduced himself on his own.  I figured I would just roll with the flow.  I mean IDK it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to try and date a hot successful guy whose dad just happens to be the CFO at this big name company, right?  I just see where things are starting to line up and I’m ok with it.

I don’t know if Mike and CFO are just being nice and trying to help out a girl who is new to town or if Mike is just thankful to see someone young in the office.  I can’t imagine the business world with all these old fogies gets you a lot of dates/ass so I’m trying to figure out if I’m about to get taken advantage of or look like a huge fool.  You never know in these big cities, nice=corrupt round hurr.

I’m also running for Mayor.  So errybody vote for me!

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Just when you think you know your best friend…

I should probably apologize for the no post Wednesday the other day.  That’s my bad.  I had a whole post written out and I just wasn’t happy about it.  Honestly, I haven’t read it since Tuesday night and I can’t even remember what it’s about.  I do remember outing John Mellencamp and Meg Ryan’s new relationship and boasting about how one of them is a family friend and how I was going to make US weekly give me $5000 and a trip to have me as their “source close to the couple,” but that’s really it.  And that story is like day old bread now, everyone knows about it.  So who I am I? A nobody.  I’m not proud of being needy, but you know gosta do it, money talks.

Can everyone be happy for me for 1 second, because…. I HAVE BRAVO!!! I am soooooooooooo excited to lay in my bed and watch The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  All. Weekend. Long.

Anyway, you’re all aware that I move to the big city in t-minus 7 days.  The freak out hasn’t officially begun yet, but I was discussing the new apartment lease I am about to sign with Anth and his roomies and he pretty much re-nigged because I have been slow on the guarantee train.  I didn’t “guarantee” that I would be living in the tiny den without a door so they may have found someone else.  HA! I mean, I’m pretty sure him aiding in drunkenly getting me denied from my dream building pretty much signs the deal in blood.  But it’s whatevs, my new 2011 resolution is not to sweat the petty (but to pet the sweaty, BAHA.)(Honestly, I’m about over the resolution, it’s been a week, I figure I beat out half of all Americans.)

I really screwed myself when he sent me a bbm convo between him and his brother and I asked who “Guido Jr” (the other bbm name) was and he said his brother, and I said, whaaa? You have a brother?  Then he really flipped his shit.  Apparently, I don’t know him at all.  I beg to differ, but whatever I forgot about a family member, big woop.

Then I asked if his brother was younger so that would make Anth, Guido Sr..  Then he was all, no grandpa is SR, dad is the original, and my brother is jr.  I had to make it worse by correcting the family loom and being like, uhh hey genius’ that would make him Guido the THIRD.  And he’s all STOP SAYING GUIDO, IT’S GIUDO, A NAME!  Now, I’m definitely homeless.  He’s not responding.

Side note: Ella just came in my room and told me she “went back to eating burritos,” she means doritos. HAHA.

If he wasn’t my only friend within driving distance I would totally shun him to man-whore island, but I can’t.  Because I need him.   I need to keep on good terms with a man just in case one of the following scenarios happen whilst living my new found glorious city life:

1.  I’m walking downtown and my heel gets stuck in one of those sidewalk grates and breaks and I need someone to come and get me/buy me a new pair of shoes.

2. I am on a date and I need someone to be my “emergency call”/come pick me up because the guy was a winner and actually picked me up so if I just run out of the restaurant in a drunken panic I will be stuck, like gum on those tennies.

3. I have a date on a Friday night and the guy stands me up because he suddenly realized he is cooler than me, and figured out I would probably just get drunk on the date anyway because DUH genius! We did meet in a bar.  I will need Anth to make me feel better/take me out for a night on the town to get sloppity drunk.

4.  I get mugged and they steal my shoes but unlike Sex and The City, I don’t need to call the police because my shoes are not from Manolo Blanik, but from Bakers.  Someone will need to bring me some ugly white pumps, and that someone’s name is Anth.

5.  I need someone to be my back-up date to the company Christmas party next year.  Pay back is a BIOTCH.

6.  My heater breaks and it’s too hot in my place and I need someone to come over and turn the knob for me.  You see this in movies all the time, the girls typically look like this:

While I, would look like this:

Only sweaty.  Thus, I would need Anth to come fix the heater because I couldn’t have a guy from down the hall that I’m secretly crushing on come fix it while my hair is all afro and it’s laundry day and all I have is my red knit sweater (I’m trusting that was this girl’s case the day she had this photo shoot.)

7.  I need a date to make a guy I like feel jealous, but WHA? We have to date in secret because he is my professor but he shows up to a party at my house with my arch nemesis, who happens to be Anth’s ex that dumped him because her brother is in jail and he was starting to figure it out.  You could also call me Serena Vanderwoodsen.

You get the picture.  I need someone to be my fall back in any situation that may arise.  Since all of my other guy friends in the city are engaged, Anth has to be the one.  I would do the same for him.  Actually I wouldn’t, I would be his backup to the Christmas party, but that’s really it.  I’m a bad friend, a bad friend who is willing to pay $500 a month to live in a hole without a door, damnit!

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