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The return of every guy I’ve ever dated… and a Brit.

I’m just going to cut right to it, last week started off with a bang, Sunday night I got another text from Douchearoo:

“Thank you, just thank you for being so normal.”

I decided not to reply to this one, because really? Is this what he’s going to do every time him and his crazy pants girlfriend get into a fight and she throws stuff at his ugly face, or whatever it is that crazy pants girlfriends do?  I don’t need anyone to remind me that I’m not crazy, but thank you anyway Douchearoo.   I’m sure he feels like a big douche right now, as he should.

Monday, I got a text from Texas…. he’s baaaack, for good. I opted out of hanging out with him last week because I just need time to adjust to the fact that I’m going to have to start drinking during the week and that I might just have to throw in the towel and make out with him.  He seems all right after what I went through this weekend.

Saturday, Betty came for a visit.  We started drinking pretty much the second she arrived.  5 or 6 hours later we made our way downtown to a bar next to a concert hall.

We walk in, grab a seat, and start to suck down drinks when I hear someone walk up behind me and say… “Gizzy?” I turn around to see that it’s Snoop-Linus.  What. The. Fuck.  He pulls up a chair, is wasted and acting like a drunk asshole, pulls out a wad of cash and says, “I’ll take this to the store right now and buy you a ring, I’ll do it, and we’ll go to Vegas tonight.”  Um, good for you but I don’t want to marry you, or talk to you, ever.   But what I really said was, “What kind of asshole walks around with that much cash?  You’re going to get robbed, idiot!” He proceeded to tell me that he was at the bar alone, and was about to attend a concert alone next door, because his phone was dead and he doesn’t know where his friends are.  

Then, he ordered me, Betty, and the 3 old men to his right drinks, then got in a fight with the female bartender that ended in her buying him a drink.  And I was just flabbergasted.  At this point I got up, and said… “Well this has been grand.  Goodbye.”  Walked out of the bar grabbed a cab.  Of course he chased us out asking if he could stay at my place, if I would give him another chance, and if we could just talk in private for a minute.   Now, seriously, what the fuck!?  I couldn’t even say anything, I just got in the cab… there are no words.  

Yesterday I get a text from a number not in my phone saying, “I’m in love with you and never stopped loving you.  I would give you the stars and the moon if I could.”  I replied being all, “Uhh who is this?” and it was Snoop-Linus.  Apparently he lost his dead phone Saturday night and decided to get a new number.   I just can’t even be funny about this because it’s that stupid, what an idiot.

Anyway, after we dipped out on Snoop-Linus, Betty and I came across an underground tavern.  We went in and started playing a game of pool when these two guys in suits came up to us… 

One was engaged, one was not, one was 36, one was 29, one was cute, one was not, one was British, one was not, and they were both professional tennis players.  

That conversation went down like so, “What do you guys do?”… “Well, we’re going to sound like asshole’s, but we’re tennis pros.” Yep, you’re right.  You do sound like assholes.

Since Betty is basically married she took it upon herself to pair me with the 36 year old, not cute, single, british guy… I mean ok, his accent was cool and it was fun to talk to someone who has traveled the world and done cool things that I haven’t.  But pretty much as soon as I started talking to the guy he was saying shit about how we were going to get married.  Which I’m just like, have some tact man.  You’re british, you’re supposed to be classy.  

I mentioned mine and Lucky’s 30th birthday Euro trip, since he is from Europe he had some interesting things to say… he asked where we’d be going and I said, “Well we haven’t really talked about it, but probably some of your standard European countries/cities…. London, Paris, Italy…maybe Greece and Spain?”  Well, being a “pretentious European asshole” (his words not mine) he pretty much had to put his 2 cents in about everything I had to say about it.  “Ugh.. why would you want to go to Greece!”  “Ummm… because it’s beautiful.  That’s why.  I actually would like to honeymoon in the Greek Isles if I can ever meet a guy who isn’t a douche.”  Then he proceeded to tell me that he knows someone with “fabulous summer homes” in each of these countries that we could stay at.  I mean that’s cool, but #1 this trip is 4 years from now and #2 you’re not coming, so thanks for bragging but no thanks.  

The conversation from there on out got a little blurry because I was drinking heavily to avoid all that awkwardness… the next thing I remember him saying is that he’s from Wales and it’s like the West Virginia of England – I was wasted so I just thought that was down right hilarious and started saying, “Prince Harry of West Virginia!” in my finest British accent to everyone in the bar.  

THEN! The other guy’s fiance and her friend bust through the bar doors with massive chips on their shoulder.  With good reason, I guess.  They left and dragged the engaged guy out with them. So Betty, myself, and the Brit were left at the bar to drink.  The next thing I know after that I hear Betty inviting the Brit back to my place.   Which I don’t do.  I’ll hang out with strangers in a bar, but we’re not in college anymore – we can’t just be inviting random guys back to my apartment, but he came anyway.   I offered him a beer, apologized for the fact that I live in a frat house, and got into my pajamas as a hint to him that it was time to go.  He stuck around for a few hours and finally took the hint after I wouldn’t let Betty leave the two of us in the room alone, but not before he could get my number.  

Not 2 seconds after he walked out my front door he texted me, “Would you like to grab a movie or a bite on Monday evening? It was really nice to meet you tonight.”

I didn’t reply.

The next morning I get another text from him, “Morning! If you girls would like to come to the tennis club for breakfast this morning, come on in, it’s on me!” (The tennis place he practices at is like a block from my apartment.  Yay.)

4 hours later I replied, at 2pm.  “Ohh sorry, we just got out of bed.”

“No worries, I am jealous you got to sleep in.  I have been training since 6:30!  Can I call you later?”

I didn’t reply.

Later that night he texts me again, “Hey how was your day?  I’m bloody exhausted.  I was wondering if you’d like to grab a drink on Tuesday night?”

I replied yesterday morning saying, “My day was good, I have plans Tuesday night (lie) but thanks.”

He replied, “How about bowling on Wednesday?”

So I pulled the unthinkable, “I’m actually leaving for a business trip for the next week.” Another lie.  ECK!

So he says, “Safe travels, lets catch up next week.  It would be fun to hang out.”

I know that lying was wrong, but I don’t have it in my heart to tell someone that I’m just flat out not interested.  He’ll get the hint right? Betty was all, why don’t you just hang out with him and tell him it’s just as friends?  Because! Yes I know I am looking for friends, but I am looking for friends that are in my generation..and he’s 36, that’s 10 years older than me and quite honestly it makes me a little uncomfortable to even think about it.   I just came to terms with the fact that I might have to date a guy who is 30, so 36 is like really pushing it. 

Now, before everyone starts calling me an ageist and posting nasty things about me on your own blogs and start commenting saying I should give the guy a chance because love has no age and all that bullshit… Let me just say that this is my life and if I don’t want to get to know an old man I don’t have to and anyone who doesn’t like it can kiss my ass.   I’ll do what I want! Damnit!

Then I got a text from Dina yesterday begging me to come out with her and Sweater Vest next weekend, because “he really wants to see me”.  And I just realized that I’ve never told you about Sweater Vest…

Sigh

I’m tired.

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I’ll take breathe right strips for $1,000, Alex.

So the other night it’s bedtime and I’m laying in bed on my computer catching up on some of my favorite blogs, when I hear something that sounds like snoring.  This was all too familiar because of that whole mouse in my room mulling in plastic bags situation.  I sat there without moving and listened to see if I could determine whether it was really snoring or just something super annoying outside.

I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, I mean it literally sounded like it was coming from inside my room (annnd just as I typed this I remembered Anth telling me they came home from a bar Saturday night and the front door was standing wide open, makes sense, there’s probably a hobo/ax murderer sleeping in my closet).  I crept over to the door to see if it sounded like it was coming from Anth’s room and I couldn’t hear it anymore, yet when I get back in bed, there it was! 

I laid there for a while wondering if the snake had gotten out and was hiding under my covers somewhere ready to attack, but snakes don’t snore? Did we get a dog that no one told me about?

Then I started thinking that it was my neighbor who shares a wall with me.  The past few months I’ve been able to hear everything through the wall.  It was like they hadn’t been living in that room and then all of a sudden the whole freaking family sleeps, eats, and poops in this room that shares a wall with my bedroom.

I hear the tv on until the wee hours of the night, I hear when they leave early in the morning and forget to shut their alarm off and it goes off for 2 hours, and I also hear their baby up at 5am making stupid baby noises.  

I would be lying if I said I didn’t take rocks out of this vase in my room:


And throw them out of this door in my room:


 

 

so that they hit my neighbors window when that baby is being loud.  Not that the baby can pick up on subtle cues that she’s keeping the neighbors up with her noises, but I’m figuring the parents will think the room is haunted or something and move her out of it and make it a guest room so I can finally sleep in peace.  I’m still waiting, but it will happen.

Speaking of snoring, Anth, some friends, and I are going on a weekend getaway the first weekend of November.  We just booked it and I kind of am already regretting it/thinking of ways to get out of it.  Our college football team is playing at a University in the state above ours and I don’t know, for some reason everyone thought it would be a good idea to go.

We pondered on renting an RV and parking it at a Walmart overnight (that… is the most white trash sentence I have ever written) and then someone was like, so whose going to drive the hotel to the Walmart shitfaced?  Good point, so Anth booked us 4 hotel rooms 8 miles from the bar scene and we’ll be cabbing it.

I had a few conditions that needed to be met before I would agree to partake in this weekend o fun:

1. At no point during the trip from the time we leave the apartment to the time we arrive back in our city can Anth or anyone else insult me in a way that will make me wander off alone to get attention.  See: Missing girls.

2.  I need my own bed.

3.  Whoever shares a room with me cannot poop while I am in the room.  I’m sorry, I know it’s a natural thing, but I have a weak stomach.

Anth said it was fine and he would just share a room with me.  I said ok… then that mystery snoring happened and I remembered from a New Years Eve where I slept in the same room as Anth that he snores like a freight train.  So, now I need to cancel.  Because as much fun as that weekend will probably be.  I really like my sleep on the weekends.  Sleep > drinking on a lawn in the cold. 

And on that note… I hope everyone has a good weekend.  One of my ex-boyfriends who Anth and all my big city friends are good friends with is getting married this weekend, I wasn’t invited, so Betty is coming up to binge eat with me for a few days.  Ta ta now.

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Beer Me!

You guys totes thought I was getting away without a post today, huh?  No siree!! I was planning on not posting anything because I have nothing to talk about, but then… something happened.

I was sitting at work craving candy bars and cheese fries while twiddling my thumbs when I decided to look at my bank account.   I only get paid once a month and let me tell you, it is ROUGH.  

First, I have to pay all my bills at the beginning of the month and hope I can survive on what’s left.  I also have a percentage of my paycheck automatically moved into my savings account (that I usually end up transferring back into my checking for extras throughout the month like Sunday Funday and that pink 1 shoulder dress JWOWW was wearing on Jersey Shore that I had to order from London :/ ) and if I have nothing left the 3rd week into the month then that’s just life and I’m going to have to eat my finger nails. But this month THIS MONTH I did really well and I had $25 left that I saw today (tomorrow is payday).  So my wheels started turning and I decided to get wings and beer from a restaurant tonight for dinner.

So I picked up my wings after work, bolted through the grocery to get my beer, and got in line behind a hot tall drink of water.  I’m sure at some point he saw my face of disgust that him and the girl infront of him both had their carts full of food and all I had was my beer (and my wings that were getting cold in the car minute by minute while I stood there).  Finally, just before the extreme couponer infront of him was finished checking out, the hottie turned around and said, “Here, you can go infront of me.”  and I was all… “Omg are you sure????” Whilst batting my eyes at him.  And he was like, “Yeah I mean I’ve got a bunch of produce and stuff and all you have is that beer.”  And say, “Oh yeah, well I like my beer! Thanks so much!” As soon as I heard that come out of my mouth I thought to myself, really?! This is why you are single.  I like my beer, you could not sound like more of an alcoholic.

As I’m standing there I’m thinking if I should keep talking to this guy.  Is letting someone cut infront of you at the grocery the same as if someone buys you a drink at a bar? If they buy you a drink you have to stand there and talk to them while you drink it, so if he lets me cut, I need to stand there and talk to him while in line?  I’ve never been in line behind anyone nice enough to let me cut, so I’m a little behind on my line etiquette.  

Anyway, I didn’t keep talking to him, because we’re talking I was at the grocery craving some bud light limes after a long day at my work aka the sub tropics, my makeup was all over my face, my hair was all crazy pants, and frankly I just looked a lot like this: 

Minus the maid outfit? But, I think not talking to him was helping my case a lot more than talking to him would have.  If he would’ve asked where I was off to with my case of beer and I told him my bed to watch Sex and the City reruns, he might have thought I was a loser.  

So does anyone have any grocery line etiquette tips for me in case this happens again?  Next time I need to be more prepared and powder my nose before beer shopping.  This was a good opportunity to meet a total stranger and I missed it! RATS!

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Attack of DishZilla

Happy Monday Everyone! Mark this day, that’s the only time you’ll ever hear me say those awful words. I cannot express how happy I am that last week is over, not only was work stressful (and it will be for about the next 3 weeks, I’ll be forcing myself not to suddenly come down with mono), but I also had to prepare for my parent’s visit over the weekend.  Which only entailed cleaning the house and buying my dad a birthday present, easier said than done when you live with 2 frat guys.  No big deal, right?

I waited to clean until it was around bedtime on Thursday night.  I figured that way, everyone would get up in the morning, run off to work, and not leave much of a mess for me to clean up.  When I came downstairs Friday morning everyone was already gone, but I could smell that someone had cooked a sausage and egg biscuit  (Anth, so predictable) and sure enough there were dishes in the sink with egg remnants all over them.

Like watching me run around the night before stressed out making sure the dishes that had been sitting in the sink for a week that were actually Doogie’s responsibility:

were all in the dishwasher so the house looked like a semi-clean frat house wasn’t enough of an incentive to be like, “Oh hmm… MAYBE Gizzy did all those dishes, cleaned our disgusting pube-infested bathroom, swept and mopped all the floors, washed the sticky beer residue off all of the surfaces in the place, AND made sure the couch pillows hid the spots on the couch where the leather came off because she wants it to appear to be clean and not look like we’re poor hobos, and maybe I could take 5 minutes out of my morning facebook whore creeping session to unload the dishwasher and put these dishes in there so she doesn’t have to worry about it since it’s my mess. But no, I won’t because I’m an inconsiderate ass.” So, he put it in the sink and didn’t even rinse it.  

I swear to you, a switch is going to flip and they are going to come home one day to broken dishes all over the floor because I can’t take it anymore, and they can all eat off toilet paper  and magazine scraps for all I care.  Housewives are so underpaid.  

But anyway, you can see in the right hand corner of the photo a list hanging on the dishwasher.  That’s a list of whose turn it is to unload it, when it’s unloaded we cross our name off and write weather the dishes are dirty or clean.  My name is crossed off about 6 times, Anth’s once, and Doogie’s bringing up the tail with a whopping ZERO.  I was skeptical of the list to begin with because of course no one would enforce it, it’s just there to blatantly point out who does the dishes and who doesn’t, which we all knew anyway.

But, Anth made the list because Doogie is notorious for inviting his girlfriend over to make these huge feasts for the two of them and the dishwasher is conveniently almost always full, and she can usually fit about 1 fork in there, then runs it. And, like a whore, leaves the rest of the dishes in the sink, and her and Doogie disappear for the next 5 days so that Anth or myself (ME, it’s always me) has to clean their mess up after it has sat there so long that it starts to come to life.  But, I believe now Anth is seeing how little he does the dishes and how I pretty much do everything that keeps our apartment from being roach and rat infested.   That’s a lie, he hasn’t noticed at all.  If anyone has noticed it’s me, realizing how much I actually clean up after these stupid slobs.

So anyway, back to the story… I came downstairs found dishes in the sink, cussed him under my breath, decided I wasn’t fucking unloading the dishwasher again, and I wasn’t about to leave dishes in the sink after I busted my ass the night before to get them all done.  After frantically looking around for a place to hide the dirty dishes I decided on the oven.  I threw the dishes in there and ran off to work.  When I got home from work, a mere 3 minutes before my parent’s showed up, Anth was already home and had locked himself in his room to “work”.  On my way home I had sent him a text telling him that he better not have trashed the place after all my hard work cleaning it, of course he didn’t reply, which told me there were more dishes in the sink.

And when I got home?  

MORE FUCKING DISHES! I wanted to run upstairs, karate kick his door open and ask where he thought his dishes from this morning magically disappeared to, since the dishwasher was still full and why did that provoke him to leave more in the sink!? BASTARD!!  But I refrained, and shoved the rest of the dishes in the oven, did a walk through to make sure there wasn’t anything else I had missed, and relaxed for 5 seconds before the doorbell rang.

Although they noted that the place needed a paint job, a carpet cleaning, and the hard wood floors needed to be treated, the apartment got my parent’s seal of approval and we left.  SHEW!

About 9:30 Friday night I got the following series of texts from Anth:

“Gizzy, WTF!!!!!!”

“Dishes in the oven, really?”

“I just cooked the shit out of them.”

At 3:15 am I decided to reply…

“Yeah, and you can take those dishes and SHOVE THEM UP YOUR BUTT!!!”

Thank you Stanley from the office for that magnificent one liner, you are a good man.

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The Lesbian

I think I mentioned Tuesday that I am stressed out at work, right? It’s because it’s the fiscal year end and they (The Company/boss whores) try and cram more work than we do 11 months out of the year into 1 month and expect people not to lose their shit. I knew September was going to be crazy when I was trotting around in May being all “Fralalaaaaa… I have nothing to do! I’m better than you!” And everyone was laughing behind my back being all “Heh heh.. she’ll see!”  I see, ok douchers, I see.

I broke it down to see how much time I need to spend in each “area” I am responsible for to get all the work on my desk done: 

Emails: 1200 minutes

Transfers: 750 minutes

New Accounts: 30 minutes

Budgets: 60 minutes

Financial Reports: 1650

Total: 3690 minutes OR about 62 hours.

So if I worked for the next 2 ½ days taking no breaks and not sleeping I could get all of my work done, that is assuming that I don’t get any additional transfers, emails, financial reports, etc… which is about as unlikely as me finding a husband tomorrow. Especially considering the due date is September 28th for all this crap, and I will get about 10 X this much coming in on September 27th alone. I hate everyone!

If I hadn’t been such a slack ass facebooking/blogging/googling the missing instead of working for the past 2 months, this predicament probably wouldn’t be so bad.  But! Since everyone I work with is old and slow I still have less work than them, yesterday my bosses were all, “Praiiiise Gizzy, since you’re ahead of everyone else we need you to train the new girl, The Lesbian.”

Ok, ok.. I’ll train your lesbian, but you just tell her to keep her eyes to herself, mmkay? Before we get a bunch of hate mail, I am totally down with the gays, Lucky and I were Kevin Yang’s #1 fan before he deleted his blog/wordpress kicked him off.  I’m not entirely sure what happened there, I just know that my sweet rambling gayness is gone forever, Ellen is my homegirl, you get it.

So, despite what the bloggy may lead you to believe, I don’t really like to talk to people who aren’t my friends.  I’ll do a little hey how ya doin, or a short 1 or 2 line convo.  But after that I can all I can hear is myself talking (and yes, I’ve suddenly taken an interest in acting? I know, I think I’m bi-polar too) and I just think I sound weird, and quiet, and raspy, and a lot of people have told me that I have the voice of a porn/phone sex/900 number lady, and that really creeps me out, but I guess if I really want to work from home that’s an option?  So I’m just not big on talking, and having to train someone means I have to talk, like a lot.  So I was not looking forward to this.  I made notes so that I could run through the training 1 time, give her the notes and be done with it.  But she had all kinds of questions and wanted examples and just really ruined my plan.

Just when I’d start to feel a little bit comfortable with my training rambling and could hear myself talking in the 900 lady voice I noticed she was looking at my boobs, and then I remembered that she’s a lesbian.  Yep! Awkwaaaard.  

I shifted around in my chair and pulled my cardigan closed holding back my tears.  Don’t get me wrong here, I had on a full coverage dress, but I have big boobs so they stick out and are pretty noticeable no matter how much I try and cover them up.   As I was sitting there fidgeting wishing she would just go away so I could crawl under my desk and cry, I looked down and noticed that the dress I was wearing that has a weird angle slit up the front (it might actually be a bathing suit cover up, or pajamas? Thanks Target, for not making that clear) was positioned so that the world could see my underwear.  I mean there is a good chance she didn’t notice because my exposed underpants were under my desk and she was too busy checking out my boobs, but just the thought of it gives me the willies, as it would if this happened with anyone.

When the training was finally over I texted Anth, “There’s a good chance I showed The Lesbian my underwear today.” he replied, “HAAA! I knew it!” So he thinks I’m a lesbian?  I replied, “Not on purpose, jerkoff.” Then I explained the situation, and he proceeded to tell me not to jump to conclusions because she hadn’t asked me to be on her softball team yet, and I’m not really the type that lesbian’s are attracted to anyway so I needed to get my panties out of a twist, literally.

At this point in my life, Anth has now told me that I’m not the girlfriend/wife type and now I’m also not the type lesbian’s are attracted to either.   So what’s left… being a cat lady or a nun?

So I don’t know, things might be weird at work today.  I’m either going to have to call in sick or wear a mumu.

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CRAZY STRESSED!!!

So because I am crazy stressed and feel like this monkey looks:

I am going to opt out of rambling about how much my life sucks today.  It’s like I know you guys know it sucks, and you know you guys know it sucks, and you know I know you guys know it sucks, but I continue to ramble about it every day. So, I’m going to shut my pie hole, get back to work so I can go home before midnight, and leave you with this lovely gem to curb everyone’s frickin baby fever…

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Anth’s breakup story

Something is seriously wrong with me.  It’s 1:15 in the morning and I can’t sleep, yet come tomorrow morning I’m going to feel like the biggest narco monster ever when I can’t get up for the life of me.  I looked this up, it’s a legitimate sleeping disorder…it’s called DSPS (delayed sleep phase syndrome) and effects 3 out of 2000 and is called an invisible disability.  How does it make you guys feel to be reading the blog of a disabled person? It doesn’t make me feel good to be disabled, but I’m not going to take drugs to fix it just because wikipedia tells me my circadian cycle is off.  My cycles are fine, ok wikipedia! 

So last night one of THE FUNNIEST THINGS EVER happened.  The past few weeks/last month Anth has kind of been dating this girl (they’ve hung out like 3 times), we’ll call her Schmanna, and this past weekend he decided to take her to his co-workers wedding.  They stayed at her friend’s apartment near the reception hall, he told me he was pretty sure that he fell asleep on top of the girl mid-hookup because she kept saying – “You don’t REALLY think we’re going to hookup in my friend’s guest room do you?” Apparently this killed his hard on and I guess that just instantly means sleep? 

He told me she was kind of weird and way into him and he didn’t know about all that.  He also told me that they hadn’t done it yet, “Because her mom told her she needs to make guys wait.” To which I said, “How old is this girl?” he said 27 or 28 and I said, “Uhh yeah, she sounds weird.”  And he got all defensive asking how her age made her weird.  I said, “Umm because any 27 or 28 year old girl isn’t going to tell the guy she likes they can’t sleep together because her mommy told her not to.  She’s going to say they can’t sleep together because she wants to get to know him better/wants him to repsect her/doesn’t want him to use her for sex aka hump and dump, she’s not going to say because my mom said so.” Anth retorted that “It wasn’t like her mom told him not to sleep with him specifically right off the bat, just guys in general and who did I learn not to be a whore from?  My mom.”   Which is totally not the case, and I don’t think it is for most women.  You learn not to be a whore by watching other girls be whores and get treated like shit, not because your mom sits you down at 16 and says, “Make guys wait. Don’t be a whore.”  He’s so stupid.  And I said, “Yes, it is weird that she would tell YOU that, but if you like her enough to defend her against ME then maybe you should fucking date her.  ASS.”  I immediately changed the subject to how excited I was for the 90 minute Teen Mom, I knew I was right and didn’t want to listen to him defend some girl who can’t make judgement calls for herself at 27.   

He was telling me the next night that he just didn’t really like her because he should just be more into it than he is.  Which is convienently what he says about every single girl he dates.  Personally, I think it’s because he is still stuck on his ex that dumped him like 4 years ago, because he still talks about her on the reg but does not talk TO her and claims he sees her all over the city.   But I just nod and agree and say, “You’ll find the right one someday!”

Anyway, when I got home from work yesterday Anth started telling me about how Schmanna told him to let her know if he needed some company to watch Jersey Shore (clearly he has not told this girl that Jerzday is a weekly holiday in our household and that all the roomies would be in attendance).  So he replied lying to her, telling her that he was going to DVR it because he was working and in the zone.  Then, she asked if he wanted to do something this weekend, we’ve got a stage 5 clinger on our hands! I mean this was like the 10th time Anth had denied the girl a hang out just this week. 

He told her he was booked up for the weekend, which was another lie, and she replied asking him if she did something to piss him off.  He wanted to just ignore her until she got the hint that he didn’t like her, but against his better judgement he took my advice when I screamed at him, “NO! FOR WOMAN KIND YOU NEED TO TELL THIS GIRL YOU WANT TO JUST BE FRIENDS!!!! You’ve been on 3 dates and it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”  He told me that he didn’t know about that because it would be really mean since he had just taken her to that wedding.   He thought telling her that he wanted to just be friends because he didn’t like her would be like saying, “Hey thanks for coming but I had a horrible time and you suck.”  To which I replied, “You know, soemtimes that happens but at least then she knows she needs to work on some things.  Like spreading her legs.”

So he replied telling her that no she didn’t do anything to piss him off, but he thought they should just be friends.   She called him, he ignored it, she sent a text asking if he could talk for 2 minutes, he said yeah he’d call her back later but he was working.  And she was all desperate saying, please don’t leave me hanging here I thought everything was great, you didn’t even give me a fair chance, we were always drunk you don’t even really know me, lets do something this weekend and you’ll see… blah blah blah.

Hearing this pretty much nausiated me, because why do girls try to fucking bargain with guys and sell themselves when the guy doesn’t want them?  I am guilty of it too, I’ve defintiely done it before with long term boyfriends, never a guy I only hung out with 3 times… but that’s past Gizzy.  NEW Gizzy wouldn’t respond and wouldn’t need to hear a reason why.

So eventually he called her back, I was downstairs getting my tacos ready for Jersey Shore, and Anth bolts down the stairs saying, “MAN! I wish you could’ve heard that convo, that shit was BRUTAL, she just kept saying that same thing over and over and I had to have a 30 minute long breakup talk with a girl I hung out with 3 times.”

I snort and say, “WHAT A CRAZY!!! Time for some Jersey Shore!!!” Then he looks at his phone and sees that she’s still on the line.

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