Oh, These Tumultuous Twenties.

Woof.

2008-07-25T08:18:00.003-06:00

I will oblige Julie Gong with a picture of me as Amy Winehouse as soon as I get batteries for my digi. Which ended up in my car for most of the evening at the party... along with my car keys. They were in the ignition. I had to call Triple A, even though everyone said the police would come faster. I was not calling the police to let me into my car while dressed like a crackhead/prostitute. I was in Brentwood, for Christ's sakes. It would have looked really bad.

I don't really have a lot to say this week. I'm moving next week on Wednesday to Regent Square. I'm pretty amped up for the move, for 2, no 3 reasons. 1. I'll be out of the place I shared with my ex, so I won't be reminded of him all the time. 2. It's 850 square feet of mine all mine space with exposed brick walls making my apartment way cooler than yours. 3. There's a rooftop deck. I'm into that kind of shit.

I posted a couple things here and you should go give me a "thumbs up" ASAP so that I can work for them full-time and become a freelancer, leading a life of leisure. I'd stay in bed till at least 10 a.m. every day. Only watch the Price Is Right occasionally, because Drew Carey is a little weird to me (although, I was watching it one day and the prize was a jet ski and a years supply of Centrum Silver, which I thought was weird, and he said, "Well, I guess you can jet ski while taking your vitmains, huh? Okay, then..." and I appreciated that he saw the oddness of the combo, too). I'd do the things that I wanted to do and sing the songs that I wanted to sing. I'd go with Nas to Fox's headquarters and do back-up rapping while he performed "Sly Fox." I'd go to the Carnegie Science Center and spend the day on the submarine. Maybe what I need is a sugar daddy? However, I just don't think I could force myself to copulate with someone I was repulsed by. How do prostitutes do that? Oh yeah, drugs. Ah, well, guess I won't quit my day job afterall... Sigh. I'm having a martini with my lunch today.

I Said Nooo, Nooo, Nooo!

2008-07-17T14:04:00.002-06:00

I'm going to a party this weekend. Not just any party. A celebrity costume party. Jealous? I would be of me if I weren't me. Did ya get that? Guess who I'm being? WRONG! Not Rosie O'Donnel! We look too much alike and are both mortal enemies of Donald Trump! That'd be way too obvious. Jk. I'm being Amy Winehouse, complete with torn up fishnets, a beehive, tons of tats and eyeliner, and plenty o' scratches and bruises from fightin' with my man (or her man, as the case may be).

I went to the wig shop dahntahn today. You know the one (if you live in Pittsburgh)... it's on Fifth Ave, I think, and it's owned by little old Asian ladies that bustle around and ask you if you need help every five minutes. There are wigs all over, and tons of packages of weave with the words, "REAL HUMAN HAIR" splashed across them.

I waltzed in, after buying a pair of $5 shoes at some real ghetto place that was approximately the same temperature as my microwave when I put it on the "defrost chicken" setting, and began browsing. Asian lady #1 quickly accosted me.

"Can I heep yewww?"

I told her I needed a hair piece to clip in that would give me a beehive.

"Ohhh, okay, yesh."

She then showed me a spiky, red, punk rock-esque piece.

"No, too spiky. I need something that's like 50's style that I can put my own hair over."

After she pulled strange curly, red, purple, and other various and wildly innapropriate chunks of horse hair off the walls and out of packages, I finally saw what I needed-- A big, gross looking, brown braided bun. I pointed to it and she attached it to the top of my head with a comb and then stood back and admired her work like she was Picasso and I was the Self Portrait.

"Ohhh, yesh. Veray niceee."

Indeed, it is perfect. I have to dye my hair darker to match it (and Amy), and luckily CVS is havin'a 2 for $5 sale on hair dye (I need 2 boxes 'cause I gots long hair)! It's going to be a lovely weekend.

BTW, Kennywood's open! If you're from the Burgh you know that means your fly is down. But, my point is, I'm going to Kennywood tomorrow for free with my friend who's law firm is having a picnic there. This is going to be one great weekend. Holla back young'n!

Me too, Jack Handey... Me, too.

2008-07-15T14:36:00.002-06:00

"I wish I would have a real tragic love affair, and get so bummed out that I just quit my job, and become a bum for a few years, because I was thinking about doing that anyway." -Jack Handey

Nothing against the bums in the 'Burgh, but it's really starting to smell like urine in the Cherry Way tunnel that is lovingly referred to as "Bum Tunnel." It used to smell like bacon. I'm not dizz-own with the change in smell.

I didn't come to work yesterday. What are you gonna do about it? Nothing. I was thinking getting fired might be okay. Collect unemployment for a few months. It might be nice. You know what? I have 4 friends who've already been on unemployment... and we're all under 24. What the fuck does that say about this economy and the work-world of Pittsburgh? Brutal.

I had a big pepperoni roll from Mancini's for lunch. Mancini's is this delish bakery in the Strip District that sells glorious loaves of bread. If you're single, you can't buy them, though, unless you are a carb-monster. Within 48 hours, whatever bread is remaining, uneaten, on the counter, in the paper bag, will be growing new forms of mold that the medical community would love to get their hands on. And you will not eat it. I hope. If you do, let me know what happens. I'm interested.

I met this foreign guy. He's Italian and Moroccan and was born & raised in France. He calls me things like "sexy" and "cutie" and it makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit each time. What's up with pet names? I hate that shit. Especially with someone I don't know that well. I'm afraid to hang out with him one-on-one because I think he'll annoy the shit out of me. Is it weird that I have a phobia and avoid going out with men because I think they'll annoy me or just be a big let-down? What does it mean? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?! (Envision that being said like Jack Skellington says it in The Nightmare Before Christmas, because that's how I said it in my head). Welp, have a lovely night. I'm going to ride the T to South Hills to pick up my car from being inspected. I walked 4 miles today, so if I don't get a seat, someone's gonna die. By die, I mean I will shoot daggers with my eyes and listen to my Ipod on an obnoxiously loud volume level. Now get off my back!

It's Monday and Everybody's Already Workin' for the Weekend.

2008-07-07T11:37:00.004-06:00

My 4th consisted of drinking a bottle of vodka, tailgating outside Heinz Field for no real reason, and throwing up in my hair at Calico Jack's. Also going to Barry's in the Southside and being mean and angry because the hangover was already kicking in by that point. There was an extensive blackout period.

I live in an apartment building. A big one. Probably about ehh, I'm just ballparking it here, maybe 200 people? My management company is Mozart Management. Read all kinds of horrors about them here. Anywho, it appears they were charged in the past with some form of racial discrimination. From what I can tell, it's still going on. There are zero black people in my building. Then again, there are probably only 5 black people in all of Squirrel Hill. It's a very white (Jewish) neighborhood. However, it also seems like they've segregated the apartment building. Different floors smell like different ethnic cuisines.

When I go down to floor 2, I smell Indian food and it sounds like roughly 9 people occupy a 1 bedroom apartment.

Floor 3 smells like Chinese food all the time, and I'm always in the elevator with people who get off there and speak Chinese the whole way up. Why do I always feel like they're talking about me? "Haha, look at the silly white girl in her pink shoes and black and white striped dress! She will never be able to match the style and sophistication of the Harujuku girls! Only Gwen Stefani can do that."

My floor seems to be mostly us 20-somethings (sidenote: my building is 21+. No one under that age is allowed to live in it unless it's with a parent/guardian). The guys down the hall from me smoke weed incessantly and as a result, the whole floor smells like it. It was kind of embarassing when I was bringing a family up with their teenage daughter to try on an old prom dress that I was selling via Craigslist. They probably thought I was selling the dress for drug money. They were wrong. It was alcohol money.

Regardless of all this, I'll be movin' on soon, to the East Side. Actually to Regent Square. Smaller building. Bigger apartment. No reminders of my ex-boyfriend. A lot more people walking dogs. And new bars to become a regular at. Ahhh.

Inebriation = Celebrating Independence.

2008-07-03T12:43:00.003-06:00

How is it that virtually all holidays = getting drunk? Is it just me? Or is it everybody? Don't leave me hangin' and feelin' like I have a drinking problem, c'mon! But seriously, think about it...

The year begins with New Years Eve. If that isn't a drunkfest, I don't know what is. My NYE took place at Town Tavern, which normally I despise, but it was the most expensive ticket in town, so we figured it'd be less crowded. Plus, my cousin knew some Duq sorority that was having a private party there, and sneaking wristbands was too easy. I ended the night by running 11 blocks barefoot back to the Holiday Inn on 10th St. in the South Side, taking a shower for some reason, then having a half-naked cage fight with my friend and some boy I went to college with, wherein I dumped a gallon of Arizona green tea on his head. I hate that shit. My credit card got charged extra for clean-up. Woof.

Next, we have Valentine's Day, which I despise. It's so dumb. This past V-Day I was dating this guy who smiled like Buddy the Elf during sex and he got me this $400 Coach watch and 3 bottles of my fav Three Olives vodka (he said he wanted to get something he was sure I'd like). I made him take the watch back and take me on a shopping spree at Forever 21, because it's like impossible to spend $400 there, so I didn't feel guilty at all! Then I got drunk. When I've been single on the big V, I also get drunk. Doesn't change much.

What's next? ST. PATTY'S DAY. A huge drunkfest! This past year on the day of the parade, my friends and I made shirts with iron on letters from Wal-Mart. Mine said "Shit me, I'm kiss-faced" on the front, and "Woof- the drink tax SUCKS" on the back. We were at Carson City by like 9:30 a.m. and my friend B and I didn't even go downtown for the parade. There was a free breakfast buffet at Carson City! There were also green call-a-cabs on special, which if you don't know, are meant to be shared by 4 people and are in a ginormous margarita glass. Like you could bathe a baby in it. B and I shared about 4 of those, as well as chugged green beer, and did some mind eraser shots. I was blacked out by 10:30, I think, seeing as how I'd had vodka and champagne starting at 7 a.m.

Easter comes next, which, okay, ya got me... You don't drink a lot. But you probably have wine, right?

Around Easter we have a holiday in Pittsburgh known as the Bucco's Home Opener. I've already told you my H.O. involved bonging a gin bucket and various costumes. Plus my mom shot-gunned beer with us and kicked all of our asses. Go mom!

Now, we're at the 4th of July. The Regatta is going on. Fireworks. I plan on tailgating outside of Heinz Field tomorrow, where there'll be bands and vendors and a LASER SHOW, then heading down to the South Side for some fireworks action on Casey's rooftop deck. Casey's the bar. I don't know anyone named Casey, personally.

Labor days and memorial days are the same thing to me because I never know when they are. Both of them, though-- day off work = picnics and booze.

Fall comes... bringing with it Halloween, or as Mean Girls pointed out, the day that all females dress up like sluts and no one can say anything about it. It also involves copious amounts of alcohol. My past halloween involved me chugging chocolate covered cherry martinis at Buckhead Saloon, then blowing chunks all over my ex's car. Man, cleaning that up the next day sucked. It was pink 'n chunky!

Then we have Thanksgiving, during which you basically get drunk off of food and tons of triptophan from the turkey. Man, do I love turkey!

Christmas Eve for my family involves roughly 20 bottles of homemade dego wine and my cousins and I doing shots at grandma's downstairs bar. A few Christmas Eve's ago my cousin and I were going shot for shot with Galliano-- it tastes like thick, sickening minty-sweetness. Then he vomited on the carpet and his older brother and I had to hurry up and clean it up. I remember my mom coming downstairs and telling me they were going home. Then she whispered to me, "You are too drunk!" I got drunk-mad and came home with my fam, ran into the hosue, threw up in the bathroom I shared with my sister immediately, then knocked my bed off its frame and slept on a slanted bed that night. I woke up with a wicked hangover, but had to pass it off like I was fine, so I walked into the living room at 8 a.m., the rest of my fam bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and said, "Ohhhhh, I'm so hungover! Who am I? Where am I?" In all reality, a drummer was beating on my brain and my stomach was full of hydrochloric acid that was slowly eating away the lining. I love Christmas!

The point of all this is: I love alcohol and on my lunchbreak today I bought a bottle of cherry vodka and a bottle of grape vodka. It's sitting next to me in my office right now.

Happy 4th of July Eve!

I NEED THIS!

2008-07-02T10:03:00.002-06:00

What an informative article. I needed to share it. Julie Gong, what do you say to a taste-test-fest? It could turn into Vomitfest 2008? Or a great dance off at Bar 11 where Rob might let us wear his cowboy hat with the beer caps around the brim? Who knows...

Mark the Creeper.

2008-07-02T09:48:00.003-06:00

So, I was at Whack Arnold's downtown yesterday, getting my daily fix of sweet tea (seriously, I need a 12 step program to lay off this sauce). I could feel someone walking really closely behind me on the street on the way there, but figured the chances that they were also going to enter the land of bright red and yellow and plastic seating was slim. However, they did.

Instead of standing in line behind me, like a normal human, this guy stood right next to me. He was about 2" shorter than me, had completely gray hair, and was wearing a business suit... and staring at me like a creep. Then, he went in for the kill...

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

Seems innocent, right? I get out my cellphone and respond, "8:25 a.m.," and only then do I look directly at him and notice he's wearing a giant watch, which he's awkwardly trying to hide.

I turn back to the $1 menu and contemplating a sausage biscuit. But, oh no, he's not done.

"That's a really sexy outfit," he leans in and whispers in a conspiratorial voice, "I love boots and stockings."

What. The. Fuck. "Uhh, yeah, I like my boots, too," I say.

"Are those fishnet stockings?" he whispers.

"No. They are patterned tights." I bluntly responded, hoping he'd get the hint. At this point, it's very clear he's one of these guys on craigslist.

"My name is Mark. CanIcallyousometime?"

The last question was uttered really quickly as if he thought that if I didn't really understand what he said, I'd be more likely to hand over my number on a Mickey D's napkin.

"I live with my boyfriend." was my reply.

With that, Mark turned on his heel and left the Wood St. McDonald's, hopefully never to be seen again.

I would love to know what this man was thinking. For a 50+ guy to pick up a girl half his age, he's got to offer something guys her age can't or don't: charm, intelligence, worldliness, or just good ol' fashioned money! Not creepiness. Guys in their 20's have tons of that. Man, do I attract the freaks.

P.S. I was not wearing a remotely sexy outfit and def did not have on thigh highs like in the pic. I had on a past-knee length black dress from H & M, black tights, a caramel-brown leather thick belt around my waist, and matching brown round-toed Steve Madden boots. Not sexy ones. More like pirate boots. You know that wearing black and brown together now is cool, right?

I want to die, but I'm also cold and I want to go sit in the car.

2008-06-23T07:39:00.003-06:00

Angela Chase of My So-Called Life put it best when she said, "There's something about Sunday nights that really makes you want to kill yourself." For me, that goes for Monday mornings, as well. What is it, though, about Sundays that is SO depressing? I laid on the couch all day yesterday with a killer hangover, featuring vomiting and a migraine, and watched: The Last Kiss, Night at the Museum, Knocked Up, and Be Kind, Rewind. All pretty much in a row. How sad am I?

My Saturday night was such a frickfest. Drinking only leads to bad things for me anymore. It was a friend's bday, so a lot of people were out in our group. It was the first time I'd really drank in a while, and of course, the Ex shows up at the same bar we're at. My stomach immediately jumped up into my throat and then promptly fell down into my bowels. He came over to say hi, and I said, "Could you please leave because I was here first and I really do not want to see you." And he did. That was kind of him. There is something about him that just kills me. That thin line between love and hate thing? The line with him is microscopic. My feelings for him are so blurred and smudged and smooshed that I need to develop a new word for them. Perhaps I late him? No, I think I hove him. Either way, it's not a pleasant feeling. The night only went downhill from there, including my friend throwing a total girl-drama tantrum because I got lost and was late getting to a bar, so she accused me of "leaving her", and the bff of a guy I've hooked up with a few times being flirty with me, prompting jealousy in said guy, and him forcing his friend out the door and onto a bus when I went in the bathroom. Oh, and then when I came out and called him, he said he "didn't know where I was." Too bad his friend sent me a lil facebook message apologizing for leaving me and that he tried to wait for me, but Guy 1 forced him to leave. Ahem, jealousy issues. Good thing we never dated.

So, I basically spent the entire Sunday brooding and moping and thinking about laying down on the T tracks and getting runover. And the friend is still mad. I hate petty girl-drama.

I once read a book called, "The Big Love" and in it there is a little story that perfectly sums up how I feel right now: A man is at the funeral of his great aunt. His great uncle is in the front pew, wailing and sobbing, "Why did you have to take her from me? I can't live. Please, God, somebody, anybody, just put me out of my misery! I want to die! Oh, I want to die!" They then go to the cemetary for the burial, where the uncle's crying continues, "Please, dear God, just kill me! Please!" Suddenly, on a dime, the uncle turns to his wheelchair attendant and says, "I'm cold and I want to go sit in the car." This is how I feel: I want to die, but also, I'm cold and I want to go sit in the car.

What I need is a swift kick in the ass.

2008-06-20T14:43:00.003-06:00

It's not supposed to be 130% humidity today nor 90 degrees, so today should be a tolerable day for the Arts Festival. I mean, every year I see the same 40 tents and $300 pieces of art that I know I'm not buying. However, I discovered a little gem known as "Soul Ice". It's better than italian ice. MUCH better. It's smooth a kind of creamy and banana strawberry is sent straight from God to my taste buds. I don't know what I did to deserve it's glory and splendor.

I missed the bus this morning and that sucked because it meant I had to drive and pay $10 to park in a lot on Penn Ave. with the guy with no teeth. I can never understand a word he says, so I nod and smile and say, "Yup, have a nice day!" and then park. It's a great little routine we have going, and I'm going to miss him some day.

A kid sat on the bus with me going home yesterday and really freaked me out. He was fall asleep, almost on my shoulder. Then he was breathing really heavily like he was about to go into labor, combined with a lot of face-rubbing and some perspiration. I thought he was going to vomit all over me. Luckily, I was talking on my cell phone in very much an inside voice so as not to disrupt my fellow-riders' activities, so I didn't have to acknowledge my scary seat-mate. He got off the stop before me, luckily.

Well, my contacts are so dry that I can't see right now, so I'm gonna go look for eye drops and then go have a cocktail because it's Friday, mother effer!

"WHEN I GROW UP AND GET MARRIED... I'M LIVING ALONE!!!"

2008-06-10T07:09:00.003-06:00

That title's just a little Home Alone quote from Kevin McAllister that pretty much encapsulates how I feel today on several levels. 1. I live alone and I FREAKING LOVE IT. 2. People are really annoying me today. Just by existing. 3. I don't wanna grow up, I'm a Toys R' Us kid, and also: there are 2 lower-end twenty-somethings I work with who are engaged and seem to have NO LIFE other than their fiances. Oh, and they're GUYS. WTF? Who flipped thier weens inside out?

So as for #1, I lived with three other girls in college in a house for two years. While we each had our own bedrooms (and I had the biggest, sweetest one), it was still really annoying. You had to make your schedule for showering, eating, playing your music loud and dancing around your room in your underwear, etc. coincide with everyone else's. Also, I had some damn crazy roommates, so crazy that Girl Interrupted had nothing on them, but I won't get into that. You can't walk around the house nude or partially nude (someone's boyfriend might be over). You have to do your dishes quickly, lest someone get mad about it. You need to get your hair out of the shower drain (I lose a LOT of hair... don't worry, I have full, thick locks of love, nonetheless). There are just a lot of things that you have to be careful of. Then I moved to Pittsburgh after college, to a 1 bedroom, alone. I got lonely. Then Z. and I dated and moved in together (his suggestion!). The entire ordeal of dating him and living with him was so terrible that when he moved out and I had the entire apartment to myself... I FUCKING LOVED IT. Now, I come home from work, put on my freaking pjs, eat a Lean Cuisine in front of my LCD tv, WATCH BRAVO AND THE STYLE CHANNEL ALL I WANT, play Arcade Fire and The Magic Numbers all I want and no one complains, and the best part? I can fart whenever I want. Also, I can poop whenever I want. There is no one around to impress. I've already impressed myself enough.

On to #2: I don't know what it is, but everyone is annoying me today. I think maybe it has to do with the fact that approximately 1 minute after I stepped out of my apartment, it started sprinkling. Then 20 seconds after that, the clouds parted and God cried tears of rage and pain for gas prices and George W. Bush, and my strappy-sandaled feet bared the brunt of it. The winds were a-howlin', and my cute umbrella from H & M almost was flipped inside out. I also wound up looking like I sat in a puddle of urine. Naturally, the smell of wet and strange people on the bus was quite overpowering. I've noticed a strange phenomenon involving me and the bus: I'm always the LAST person someone will sit with. Why? I look mean, and read all my text messages out loud. Also, sometimes I smell weird. Plus, yesterday I had Barbie doll heads on all my fingertips. It makes it hard to text, but it just feels so right. Plus, the voices told me to do it! Hey-ooo, jk, I'm not Brit Spears.

Sorry about that tangent. My point is: people annoy me. In general. Mostly these 2 guys in my office... which is connected with #3.

So #3: In my department, there aren't many of us. It's a large company of about 200, but there's only maybe 10 of us on our floor in our dept. Four of us are below 30. I am the one and only of those below 30 that is neither married nor engaged. Nor in a relationship at all for that matter! There are 2 guys, ages 22 and 23, both engaged. And all they fucking do is talk, no make that complain about their fiances! I have a solution for you, d-bags: DON'T GET MARRIED! GET OUT NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN! You're so young. I weep for you on the weekends when I'm out getting hammered and no one is getting mad at me or texting me asking me where I'm at and who I'm with and when I'll be home. Jk, I don't weep for you, I laugh at you.

I have a theory (a self-serving theory) that the younger you get married is in direct proportion to your social/romantic worth aka how attractive, cool, stable, fun, educated, etc. you are. People I know who get married young.. well, they're not exactly the cream of the crop. I think on some level they realize that, and forsake the "grass is always greener" mentality to take on a "welp, I'm pretty sure it won't get any better than this, so I'd better take what I can get-- QUICK!" I, however, am still honing my red-flag seeking and alerting skills and will bizzounce at the first sign of something I don't like.

The past 3 guys I've been interested in have all succumbed to red-flag theory. Guy 1: Well, he had a little penis and he smiled during sex. I'm talking like Buddy the Elf smiling. It totally started making me think Chris Hanson was lurking just around the corner with his camera crew. Guy 2: His ex was a 31 yr. old with a kid.. and he works with her. I don't need that kind of baby mama drama. Guy 3: he's 29 and incapable of having a serious conversation. At all. I've known him for about 5 months, and we've never had a serious talk. Ever. Also, he's a photographer, so I don't know if I could handle dating a man who takes pics of beautiful women for a living. So, all in all, it's funny how life works. I dated Z. after I found out he'd been sleeping w/ his ex-gf and lying to me about it for 3 months. HUGE RED FLAG. Now, I bolt at the first sign of anything awry. I am crazy. NOW LEAVE ME ALONE! I have a fruit and yogurt parfait from Whack Arnold's to enjoy. I hope it doesn't give me diarrhea.

Pinnacle Cherry Vodka.

2008-06-06T14:36:00.004-06:00

I don't know if you've noticed it on your liquor store shelves recently... but it's there. It's there and it's $11.99. I used to be all bout-it, bout-it with Three Olives Cherry Vodka, but hitting me up each week (does that mean I have a prob?) at $17.99 kinda sucked, and my mom told me I should stop buying those expensive fifths of vodka and learn how to budget my money (she doesn't know about the weekly trips to Forever 21 and H & M, my bitch lovers). Anywho, I stumbled upon Pinnacle the other week. I was wary. Smirnoff makes a "black cherry" version of vodka, and it is so gag-inducing, the reflex is kicking in just thinking of it. The way the label stares at me in a vulgar shade of deep red. I'm just not into it.

So, I took a chance on the Pinnacle. And it paid off bigtime. I wish I was a bettin' man, because it would have payed off in multiple rounds of $25 martinis for the whole bar. I moved on to the strawberry-kiwi, grape, and plain ol' shit-faced flavored since then, and they are all glorious.

I have one word of caution for fellow vodka lovers: Do not consume more than 3 or 4 vodka and red bulls hencetoforth known as Demon's Brew. It causes you to enter a euphoric state in which you become The Drunk Everyone Hates. You do all those annoying things like smack people's asses, lie, steal, talk to people you don't even really like and get their phone numbers, drive drunk, knock passenger side mirrors off of your own car (even after your dad BOLTED it to the car after the last time you knocked it off because you drove drunk and told him that "someone knocked it off when you parked in Oakland"-- blame it on the college kids!), try to pressure someone into having sex, the list goes on and on!

Sidenote: I'm not promoting drinking or driving. Drinking should be done only when you're really thirsty. Driving should be avoided when there are buses and subway systems, but if you really think you are FINE and you have never peed your pants, and you like testing the law, do what you will, cowboy. Have a lovely weekend.

Sweaty Balls.

2008-06-05T12:17:00.005-06:00

It's so damn hot out. Milk was a bad choice. Jk, I didn't have milk today, BUT I did have FAYGO RED POP! Does anyone remember how freaking delicious this shit is? There's a shitty little convenience store around the corner and through the woods (just near the Convention Center actually) that sells it. I haven't seen Faygo in a store for quite some time... Actually since I was dating an ex we'll call BoyMeetsWorld, who lived in the city of crap otherwise known as Cleveland.

Actually, Cleveland wasn't all bad. It has this restaurant called Waterstreet Grille that was fan-fucking-tastic. Other than that, I guess there were little to no redeeming qualities. Anywho...

I've been eating pickles like mad lately. Like 2 jars a week. I LOVE PICKLES. You gotta problem with that? What's the big dill? Deep-fried pickles are good, too. I had a turkey sammy from Sammy's today and they gave me a pickles. However, I could tell it had been in the jar for a while and the one end had been out of the juices, so it had kind of dried out. That disappointed me. Something that did NOT disappoint me today was the Cinnamelt from Whack Arnold's (McDonald's) this morning.

No one ever gets my Whack Arnold's references. Didn't you people watch Chapelle's Show? It was a hilarious skit. Google it. Youtube it. It's there and it's great.

I'd like to take this space and dedicate it to a man that I'm currently in love with and have been for a while: Jon LaJoie. Watch this now: "Pedophile Beards"... and thank me later.

Holy Effing Crap.

2008-05-30T07:36:00.003-06:00

So, yesterday, I made my work friend B. accompany me to the ominous "Adult Bookstore" on Liberty Ave. downtown since it's near our workplace. I have a (fake) bachelorette party coming up, and I needed some supplies. I was in no way prepared for the experience. I mean I've been in adult bookstores before, but nothing like this...

You walk in and the store is separated by a turnstile. The front section is as big as a walk-in closet and contains your garden variety Playboy/Playgirl and bachelorette stuff like tiaras, penis straws, penis squirt guns (got 'em), sashes, penis pasta, etc. So, my first sign that things were weird was the fact that you had to put a quarter into the turnstile to get into the rest of the store. The purple-haired, blonde-rooted, obese, pierced girl working behind the counter said, "It's to keep out thieves." Okay. Sure. Lots of porn and dildo thieves around here. So, we get back there and are surveying the selection of vibrators, handcuffs, and dildos when the girl behind the counter laughs really loud, in one of those ways that you know she wants you to say, "What's so funny?" so I do. She says, "I'm reading this article in Nightwire about pick-up lines. They're so lame. The first thing I said to my last girlfriend was, 'Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?' and we dated for TWO years!" Cue the nervous laughter.

I just did not really know how to respond to that. It freaked me out. She had no TMI-ed us with her sexual status and the phrase, "Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?" So, B. and I continued on our merry way, as I gathered up penis-tipped drink stirrers, and whatnot. I was looking around the store, trying not to make eye contact with all the nipples staring at me from the porn DVD covers, and I notice the dark, foreboding area in the back-- the so-called "viewing booths." Now, I was never 100% clear on what this meant-- are they strippers dancing a la an LL Cool J video in a little booth? Are they for men to watch porn videos? How much would a black light test reveal in there? Then I see a sign that say, "Viewing booths: $10. If you decide to buy, the $10 will go towards your purchase." Okay, now. Are you SO into the porn that you're willing to waste $10 just to make sure that this is something you want to whack off to every night from here till eternity? I mean, c'mon. Spring for the extra $10 and take your dirty old man self home. Then I notice a guy coming out from the back booths. He spots B. and I, and does a 180 turn back into the solace of his booth, out of the harsh neon lights of the storefront and the reality of what his life has become.

So, I finally am feeling like I need a shower, so I take my selections up to the counter to check out. Purple hair girl is scanning the stuff and abruptly says, "I had the BEST sex of my life the other day. I was fucking some guy's girlfriend in the backseat of his car on 376 while he was driving. It was awesome." I had no response for this. I think B. said something like, "Cool" or "Sweet" or "Nice"... I mean, seriously? What the HELL do you say to a stranger that has just revealed such info to you? NOTHING. Then she coughed and hacked and wiped her nose. Then, took my debit card and swiped it and gave it back to me. I tried to touch it as little as possible. I subconsciously was wiping my hands the entire way home. Then I showered. I will NEVER go there again, and I advise you not to either.

Penises are like snowflakes.

2008-05-29T13:29:00.003-06:00

A male friend asked me today, "Is it hard for a woman to go from someone who's really packing back to someone who's not? Would it be like trading my Audi back in and then getting a Taurus?"

I responded by telling him that penises are like snowflakes. They're all different and special in their own ways. The ones shaped like candy canes, or Captain Hook's hand-substitute... the little ones... the big ones... the ones that smell like ball sweat. Woof. Actually, I think if you ask most females, we'll tell you one thing. No, strike that, two things: 1. penises are generally pretty unattractive and 2. balls are disgusting. I have one lady friend, and one lady friend only, who has an affinity for balls. We'll call her P. because that's what her name starts with.

She is one of those friends that you hate at first, and then you grow to tolerate them, and then you grow a teeny-tiny bit fond of them. This is why: she does not know when to shut the F up. I mean that in a double-fold way. She can and will talk your face off. Also, she makes comments that make you want to punch her in the teeth. She often prefaces them with, "No offense, but..." or "Don't take this the wrong way, but..." These words are often followed by things like, "You look like a pirate today!" or "You used to be SO skinny!" (Yes, she's said both of those things to me.) Eventually, I learned to tolerate it because she really is just plain stupid. The girl is simply not the sharpest tool in the shed. She'd be a labrador retriever, wagging it's tail and staring up at you all happy-like, right after it threw up all over your new comforter and sat in a pile of it's own dung. That's P.

But I digress, she likes balls. She says it's because they "feel cool." Okay, I agree. I guess they feel kind of cool... but not enough to make me wanna teabag or something. Boobs feel cool, too, but we wash them and stuff. I admit, though, I sometimes absentmindedly sit and caress mine while watching tv (not in a groping way, get your mind out of the gutter)... Maybe this is similar to guys always fondling their balls? I don't know. If anyone knows, let me in on the secret.

One more thing: For the past 2 mornings there was a homeless guy sleeping in the tunnel on Cherry Way that I walk through on my way to work downtown. He was in the EXACT same position for 2 days. The second morning, I honestly had an internal battle on whether or not to nudge him to make sure he was alive. This morning, the 3rd morning, I decided if he was still there, I'd have to do something. As the bus neared the stop, I played my favorite game, Worst Case Scenario, in my mind:

He's there again, same position. He must be dead. What do I do? Nudge him with my foot? No, that's what you do to dead animals, not humans! Poke him? What if he's alive and bites me? Lean over and speak softly to him, "Sir? Sir? Are you okay?" I don't know... sounds risky. Stand two to three feet away and call 911? "Yes, I'm in a little walking tunnel between uhhh Forbes and uhhh Fifth, I think? Maybe Oliver? Anyways, I think this homeless guy is dead. It always smells like bacon in this tunnel-walkway. Just in case that adds to the puzzle." "Ma'am, have you been drinking? Is this a prank call?"

Thankfully, he wasn't there this morning, meaning he is alive and well, and I did not have to enact any of my ill-conceived plans...

That Girl is Poiiiiisonnnn!

2008-05-23T12:54:00.005-06:00

Never trust a big butt and a smile. Jk, because then I'd be telling you to never trust me, and you should. Unless you're a man trying to hit on me at a bar, in which case I'll tell you my name is Nicole, and it's not, so don't trust me. It's Friday and that means I've done about 35 minutes of work and spent the rest of my time emailing friends, reading Julie Gong and 123 I love you and umm... Oh yeah, we got free pizza for lunch again, and then sat around the conference table telling stories while our boss was away at a luncheon. My favorite kind of Friday activity!

I can't wait to go out dahntahn for happy hour(s). I just love imbibing alcohol. It makes me feel so young. And loose. And happy. And warm inside. No, I don't have a problem. I can stop whenever I want! I'm so damn tired today though. I kept yawning like the cowardly lion in a poppy field all morning long. I even took these stupid One-A-Day WeightSmart Vitamins (apparently vomiting is a common side effect?) this morning that normally make me feel like I'm on speed and vom all over the place, but today, nada. Well, they made me wanna vom a lil, but no speed-like side effects.

I have a bag of dried cranberry and nut mix on my desk that I keep in my office and eat when I feel like snacking. It's great for one reason and one reason only: it's not delicious, but it's not repulsive. What I'm saying is, it doesn't make me want to overindulge like an endless supply of A. pickles B. Primanti's coleslaw or C. hot dogs would. I've been trying to eat a little healthier lately. It's hard. Good thing I love cucumbers and whole wheat pasta.

One more thing: when you have your own office, farting seems like something you can do whenever you feel like it. However, you never know when a colleague is going to walk in. That's all I'm saying.

Ode to Ye Olde Craiglist.

2008-05-22T12:30:00.003-06:00

Man, I love Craigslist. Sometimes I put ads on it just to entertain myself at work. And man, I've had an entertaining past few days. Let me explain...

It's funny how the CL works. First, you're looking for an apartment. Then, you see the "personals" section. You check out man 4 woman, maybe woman 4 woman if you're feeling experimental, then, oh, what's this-- casual encounters? That's right, folks, it's just like it sounds. If you ever want to find a plethora of ween pics, this is a little goldmine waiting to be gutted. It also may induce vomiting.

Anyways, I posted an ad on there for a "no strings attached" or NSA in the CL'er terms, relationship. Ohhh boyyy did I get some great fellas replying. Let me share some of my faves:

"this is a x rated pic but it shows my tatts"
-No thanks. And no thanks for the x rated pic. Woof.

"What's up[ sexy? My name is EL. I saw your ad on cl and i like your pic. You are very cute. A little bit about me is I am 24(hope that isn't a problem). I am 6'2" 185lbs with short cut black hair and brown eyes. I lie in the uptown section of pgh near the mellon area. I would love to chat with you and get to know you. If you like what you see let me know and we can go from there. "
-This was so obviously copy & pasted. It bore no relevance to my posting at all.

"Hi,
You sound very interesting. Would you consider an
older guy for a night or when ever your just horny.. I beleive my experience will
be a pleasurable one, you have not had before.
I can show you how to turn bad sex into great sex everytime
if you'd give me a chance. Let's be secret buddy's
Let's talk
Well hope to hear from you. Send me a pic :) and some stats, age,weight , height
take care
Bill 5'10" 185 silver hair"
-Man, I wish I could show you this pic. My visceral response was, "Grandpa? Is that you?" And then I cried.

"lets bone."
-NO.

"im 18 but i can make be ur yung strapping lad."
-Yeah, and then Chris Hanson will show up.

"i promise i will make u gusher ;)"
-What a disgusting sentiment. It makes me want to change my underoos.

Ohhh, man. If you could see the photographs... Hilarious. What's with so many glasses-wearers in P'burgh? Haven't you clowns ever heard of corrective lenses meaning contacts? I mean, damn. And the weird faces you're making? I'm def not gonna bone someone who looks like they're squeezin' out a duece. OH-- and one guy... he sent me a pic of his weiner, it was an overlooking shot.. and his ween... was right above a TOILET FULL OF BRIGHT, BRIGHT URINE. He's def takin' some Vitamin C pills in the a.m. SICK. Just another confirmation of the fact that Pittsburgh is full of unlovables. Probably myself included. I'm not judging. I'm just being a realist with a layer of jaded.

Now I'M ANGRY!

2008-05-20T10:22:00.004-06:00

Remember that game at Chuck E. Cheese with the alligators and you had to smack them when they came out of their cave-like dwellings? And at the end they'd say "Grrr...now I'M ANGRY!" and start coming out real fast? Well I like to say it like them, and no one ever gets the reference. It's very sad (for me).

But I digress. I am angry. Why, you ask? [Preface: Z. and I still sleep together occasionally... Okay, weekly. Bad idea, I know, I know.] Because on Sunday Z. said he wanted to bone monday when he was back in P'burgh, and then yesterday (Monday) I text him to see what time (so I can pencil it into My Life's Journey Daily Planner), and he says, "Oh, I dunno. I have class, then I have to eat dinner, then I have to go to the gym, then I have to meet up with a stranger from Craigslist for anonymous sex." (Okay, he didn't say that last part, but trust me, it's possible. I'll tell that one next Storytime.) Point is: WHAT. THE. FUCK.

I'm sorry, but it's common fucking courtesy to not flake out on BONING plans. People have no decency anymore. NONE! I'd never. Unless I was very tired, or got a better offer. However, there is no better offer in this case. Is it just me or does Z.'s "no longer care to bone" reek of "I may or may not be boning someone else" [wink]...or is it just me? He's so weird. When we first started seeing each other, it was All Bone, All the Time, open all hours like 7-11. Now it's "Ehhh if I have time." BONING IS NOT AN AFTERTHOUGHT!!!!!! God, this is pushing me to either celibacy or craigslist, it's yet-to-be-determined.

Just Call Me Dame Lame.

2008-05-20T07:59:00.004-06:00

I'm feeling so lame lately. I only went out one night this past weekend. And while some of you are saying, "That's normal. Good for you." I'm feeling, "What a d-bag." However, I'm actually growing a wee bit tired of the drinking scene. I'm getting too old for this shit. Jk, I'll never be too old for it, but I am growing weary of it, since I have to wake up at 6 a.m. now and waking up early is so not my cup of tea.

My friend, R., and I are starting a Sober Activities Club. We emailed about it earlier and she said, "You know, we can do things like go to Pirates games, the Arts Festival, etc." I thought, "Shit.. Pirates games = tailgating aka gin buckets. The Arts Festival? Last time I went there I wound up drinking in the downtown Hilton's bar with old men, playing Erotic Photohunt." What is this life? I guess it's just that a glass full of vodka takes the edge off for me. However, getting smashed also gives me more and more wicked hangovers as I age, and that's the only downside (besides blacking out, running out of gas, hitch-hiking, slamming Primanti's at 3 a.m.-- wait, no, slamming 'manti's is all good in my book, no matter what time of day). Anyways, we're trying to do less of the boozing, more of the shmoozing. I've really been feeling like I need to focus on my career a lot lately.

R. told me that I'm at the industry vs. stagnant point of human growth & development theory, wherein you leave behind friends & ways of your tweens/teens and find your "place" in the world and what you "have to offer." Well, guess what, World?! I HAVE CRAPLOADS TO OFFER!... I think?

Oh, how about the bus never came yesterday. Apparently the 67H is an unreliable crapfest of a busline. I waited an hour. Wound up catching a 71 to the dirty O aka Oakland, then one to my home. So lame. It took me 1 hr and 45 mins to get home. And then I fell asleep on the couch at 9:15 p.m. Yeah, that's why you can call me Dame Lame.

Boredom Stories.

2008-05-19T12:20:00.003-06:00

That pic of Hugh Grant is how I imagined my ex, Z., to have been every time I turned my back for 2 minutes... Here goes!

Almost everyone in the office is at a meeting right now and I'm bored as F, so I'll regale you with the story of Z. and I, since I've spoken of him a few times now. It's gonna take everything in me not to post a pic of his ween up here, but here goes!

We met at our alma mater, at the very end of my senior year. I went to a small, private college, so pretty much everyone knew everyone. He, however, I had not yet met somehow. He played football, I was in a sorority (I know, barf-fest 2006), so our paths rarely crossed. Anyways, basically, we'd never met, read: fresh meat. Long story short: We became a regular bone, and it was fabulous. Every morning after the bone, he'd stay and we'd talk till like noon or 5pm. Once summer came and we parted ways, we found we missed one another and wound up talking on the phone every mother effing day for like 2 hrs +. He came down to visit several times. I even shelled out $600 for a stay at an Inn one weekend (makes me want to vom now). However, whenever I'd suggest I go up there, I'd get, "No, I live in the middle of nowhere, you don't want to come up here." A little voice said, "What's he hiding... bsides YOU?" But, I said, "Shut up, little voice. It's FINE." Eventually he moved to the Pgh for school, and we became an official couple. My feminine intuition got the best of me, however, and after a few sketchy actions, I woke up one morning and checked through his call log & text messages. Sure enough, he'd been talking to an ex-gf. That night, I asked him what his ex's name was, again? He said "Amber" and I knew the ex in question was Karla. My suspicion was piqued. I turned the AIM logs on his IM (remember Dead Aim?! He still had it).

So, he merrily goes off to class a few mornings later, and I stay asleep in his bed. Once he's safely gone, I check out those AIM logs. Oh, well, turns out, he'd been talking to his ex-gf the past few days. Telling her he missed her, etc, etc. Okay, now I have an Italian temper, and I was ENRAGED. I contacted her, via IM, told her it was me, not Z. and we had a discussion. Turned out, he was telling her all summer that I was "just a fling" and telling me all summer that she was "just a friend" he "had to see bc she is friends with his friends". Total BS. He was having his cake and eating it, too. Screwing us both. Being a total pig.

I opened 3 cans of tuna and labeled them 1, 3, & 4 and hid them around his apartment (after dumping tuna juice in all his drawers, his motorcycle helmet, and bathtub. Oh and the ol' running the toothbrush around the toilet bowl). Well, after the ex-gf and I sent him nasty texts, he figured out what was going on and rushed back to his apt where I, unfortunately, still was. What I failed to see was... He was good. He was too good. His mastery of manipulation rivals that of Hitler and Stalin. I fell for it, too. He would come to me, then go to her, then back to me, then her again.

He created a mind-fuck of rivalry between she and I so that we no longer were on the same side (read: against him), but adversaries, warring FOR him. Terrible! God, he's good. So, eventually, I cut him off like I knew I should... for about a week. He comes crawling back after being at home for his Thanksgiving break and tells me she said they could get back together if he cut me out of his life.. and he realized he couldn't do that and he needed me. Mind you, this is all with full-on waterworks and the whole 9-yards. I thought I had won! Little did I know, I had lost big-fucking-time. I told him we could try again, but I wouldn't just "let" him be my boyfriend again. He agreed. We were happy for like 2 months out of 12, maybe.

Basically, once someone has erred so far on the side of mistrust, there simply is no return. If someone could have made a sitcom about the scenarios going on in my head, it would have been hilarious and top-rated and picked up by NBC. Every single second I wasn't with him, I thought he was doing something devious. I remember one night we were at the library. He said "hi" to some girl when we came in, and I instantly prickled.

"Who's she?"
-"Some girl from high school."
"Oh, so you slept with her?"
-"No!"
"sure."

5 mins later he gets a text msg and says he's going outside to see his friend's new car. My head sees this:

The text message was from the blonde. He's going outside to meet her, probably in her car. They're gonna have a quickie, then he'll come back to me. I just know it!

5 mins later he returns. And, I am ashamed of myself, but, I actually leaned over to SMELL him when he came back to see if he smelled like a girl (I don't necessarily mean vag, but yes, that, too). Craziness.

And, ohh, there were other things, too: Finding what looked like a lipstick mark on his shirt after a weekend w/ a friend... Finding a girl's phone number in his phone and him SWEARING he had no clue how it got there... Seeing that he had talked to THE ex again about 6 months after he swore he never would again... His inability to control his drinking/blacking out... His inability to answer his phone when drinking... His african american girl porn stash (I'm not racist at all, but knowing your man has a sexual fetish for another race, well, it can make you feel a wee bit threatened when he's cheated already)...The list goes on and on.

And while any man reading this is like, Oh yeah, girls are nuts, I SWEAR-- this is NOT me. Z. made me a total nutcase. I sure learned a few lessons the hard way with him: 1. Once trust has been THAT damaged, it's never coming back. 2. You can't make a person change. They have to want to themselves. 3. Never, ever turn a relationship into a competition. It's gonna backfire!!

Ahhh, moral of the story: It's been almost 6 months now and I'm just about totally over his skank-ass. Now you get why I've sworn off men for a while?

I, Fembot.

2008-05-19T11:48:00.004-06:00

I think the transformation is complete. My heart, internal organs, and baby-making apparatus(es?) have all been replaced with steel, wiring, and shoddy plumbing. I am a fembot.

I said this to my male friend and he thought I meant feminist, so let me clarify: While, yes, I am all about ladies' rights, by fembot, I mean I am an ice princess. I have little to no emotion anymore (re: romance).

I went out Friday for happy hr. with L. and while I talked to some good-looking fellas at Seviche, Bossa Nova, and Hoity Toity Bar for the Business Class, I didn't tell anyone my real name. Why? Well, my new motto is: What's the frigging point? I am done with relationships (for a while). My ex-bff got married at 20 and knocked up at 21. Notice the "ex" part. What is it about marriage and/or serious relationships that makes a person totally abandon their former "selves"? My friend, S., said that there are 2 parts to every person-- a relationship self, and an "other" self. I think it's pretty damn accurate.

When we get into relationships, how does everything that was once "I" turn into "we"? And why does that seem to be a problem and inclination of the ladies much moreso than the fellas? What makes us lose ourselves and give so much up for guys? I don't get it. And I'm not saying I'm not guilty. After my last relationship with Z., I didn't even know who I was or what to do with myself afterwards. I was a total frickfest. However, now I know that I am a person that enjoys going to bed early, drinking banana mojitos, unicorns, the color green, and trying to think of inventions so that I don't have to work and can just get paid to be alive. I might also enjoy yoga, I'm not sure yet. Oh, and the beach. I like the beach.

So anyways, I have this friend, M., and she's one of those people that is a relationship hopper. You know the type-- she doesn't leave one till another is waiting in the wings. I hate that. How do you even know who YOU are? Answer: You don't. I feel that at the ripe old age of 24, I'm at the point where with even my friendships I need to cut my losses and move on! This friendship has become one-sided. It's all me making the effort, and her doing nada. It's funny how life works, isn't it? No one ever told us our twenties would be so turbulent. And I thought the tweens and teens were bad... Well, I guess I'm not so full of angst anymore. That angst is now cynicism. My glass is usually half-empty. God, I'm depressing.

On a happier note: I took the bus today (bc I spent like $50 parking dahntahn last week and it sucked balls). I actually found it rather enjoyable. I didn't have to fight traffic or pay to park and I quite liked that. Plus, walking outdoors is kinda nice. As long as I don't run into too many bums, at least. Woof. (Side note: "woof" is derived from the line, "Buzz-- your girlfriend. Woof." a la Home Alone aka one of the greatest movies ever made). Have a lovely day. I'm going to eat some peanuts and dried cranberries.

Family Lunch Around the Meeting Table

2008-05-16T13:55:00.003-06:00

Our boss got us all pizza for lunch today. Oh, and I went out drinking the past two nights. But I didn't get drunk I swear. I have to go off on a tangent about it now though... The first night (Weds) was a beer pong thingy in the Southside and I ran into the older brother of a high school friend. We chatted. He looked damn good. Then he said, "I'm running to the bathroom. You'll be here when I get back right?" And I said, "Yes" and thought, perhaps I shall give him my numeros. But then, I thought, why bother? It'll probably just crash and burn. I don't have time for this people! I HAVE NO TIME FOR YOUR SHENANIGANS! So then I left the bar, went home, ate a half a grilled chicken breast I had in the fridge, watched The Office DVDs, and went to bed.

Last night I met up with friends on the Northshore and we sat outside, even though it was getting cold, and yelled at people and made them feel uncomfortable. The us (that's short for usual). But I digress...

So, back to the pizza lunch. Our whole department sat around the big meeting table sharing a pizza lunch, and this one guy goes, "Hey, we get to grill Yours Truly now right?" and starts asking me questions. Particularly one question about how I know this one other kid in my office. Well, this kid and I went to college together. He was in a frat w/ one of my bff's. One night, right after my first interview w/ this co., I had a raucous good time at ye olde 1311, and took full advantage of the $5 smirnoff pitcher special, including smuggling one out under my shirt and telling the bouncer I was knocked up. I'm such a typical Pisces. Jk, Pisces are supposed to be like quiet and sensitive and shit. However, I do like water. Anyways, though, he wouldn't let me drive (bc I was annihilated), so he took me w/ him to Shadyside where I ran into this guy who works at the co. Apparently I was close-talking him all night. I don't recall. Regardless, he now thinks that I am a close-talker. BUT I'M SO NOT! I'm so embarassing to myself. I can't take me anywhere. Why does everything end up having to do with alcohol. F.

I'm Sweating.

2008-05-15T07:08:00.002-06:00

I parked in the Strip today and hoofed it like 9 miles to my office building. I totally underestimated the distance and time it took to hoof it. Then, I got to the building and we have this old ass elevator that is manually operated (by the mailroom guys), and it was on the 7th floor, so I thought, oh, I'll take the stairs. Man, that was a terrible/heart healthy choice. I'm on the 6th floor of an olllld office building. And now I'm sweating. Yuck. I also have a mild level hangover from the beer-pong benefit in the Southsizzle last night. However, belting out Weezer's "Say It Ain't So" with a live band was quite refreshing and I do not regret it at all. Holla!

Do Not Try This At Home.

2008-05-14T09:47:00.001-06:00

After chiding by friends and my own vanity kicked in to a high enough extent... I decided to start a blog.

Mission Statement: To entertain the masses. Also, to provide myself with a black and white copy of my ridiculous life, and perhaps put the wheels in motion for me to start a 12 step program and get a sponsor. I don't know. I don't know if I'll have time. Anyways...

My Saturday night was a big hot mess, starring Yours Truly. It started off pretty normally. Friends came over to my apartment. A game of Kings entailed. About 8 vodka & red bulls and 4 shots later, we departed for the dear ol' southside of Pgh. Ended up at a bar called Jimmy D's. Fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Met up with more friends there... for some reason, the more friends I'm with, the more obligated to imbibe alcohol I feel. And apparently that's what I did because I had like $7 in my wallet the next day and had started out with $80. I hate when that happens. Oh, also, you should know this because it will make you want to be my friend: I get very generous when I drink. I love buying shots for myself and friends. A lot. So I'm sure that's where a majority of my funds went. Anyways, at some point throughout the night, I decided that I needed a booty call. I had my sights set on this guy, we'll call him Roger, whom I met in such a weird way that I don't have time to describe it right now. Anyways, he and I had boned on one other occasion, and, having found it enjoyable, I desired to do so again.

Roger, on the other hand, was asleep. Do you think that was gonna stop me? That or the fact that I was totally annihilated? F no. So my friend P. (who had not been drinking) drove me back to my apartment and watched me walk to the door of the building. Here is when it gets foggy for me... I don't know if I actually went up to the apt, or I just pretended to go inside while she drove away. I'm a sneaky drunkard. Regardless, I ended up driving my car to Roger's house, and also making a pit-stop at Whack Arnold's aka McDonald's on the way. Why I decided to purchase 2 double cheeseburgers, a Southern style chicken sandwich, 2 large fries, and 2 cokes, I don't know. I supposed I was planning on bribing him with garbage food?? So, I get to his street and... I vaguely recall smashing into what was probably a parked car with my passenger side mirror, thereby knocking it off. I remember stopping the car and running out and grabbing the mirror off the street and getting back in. Then I parked. I got out, attempting to tote along my fries, burgers, and drinks, but it was too much to handle in addition to the 3" heels and wet cobblestone under my feet. You can guess what happened. I fell. Hard. Next memory I have is of sitting in the middle of this damn street eating french fries off the ground on the phone with Roger. Roger was telling me he was sleeping and I should NOT come over because he was too tired to bone. At some point I admitted defeat and got back in my car. I am pretty sure I then sat there and ate the whole chicken sandwich. Then, as I finished my meal, I got ready to depart and realized I had no idea where my cell was. I literally tore apart my car (that it looks like I live in anyways) looking for it. Could NOT find it. So I do what anyone would have done in my situation: I get back out of my car at 3:27 a.m. and walk to Roger's house and pound on his door. He answers it, looking rather bewildered, and I say, "Hi! Call my phone over and over again until I answer it! Bye!" and run down his driveway back to my car. I was concerned that I'd dropped the phone in the street somewhere, but it turned out to be in my backseat. He and I, according to my call log, had an 11 minute conversation when I answered my phone then. I remember saying 2 sentences: "I really like sex" and "We should just be friends!" The other 10 1/2 minutes are up for debate.

So then I finally begin my drive home (should take about 10 mins). I had neglected to get gas earlier because I like to play a game with myself called "See How Long I Can Go On Empty". Well, I finally did it. I ran out of gas. On the freaking Parkway. Luckily I was about .5 miles from my exit, so I thought, welp, gonna have to walk! I get out of the car, and start running down the parkway barefoot, shoes and purse in one hand, double cheeseburger in the other. Oh, and it was raining. About 15 seconds later, a silver SUV pulls over and a woman says "Do you need help?" "YEAH" I say and jump in her backseat. I start telling her and the guy in the passenger seat that my fuel line burst or some BS and then slowly it dawned on me... I could get murdered any second. So, I tell them to drop me off at a gas station about a half a mile from my apartement building. I jump out, and run barefoot back to my apartment, and let me tell you: the sidewalks are paved with razor blades and cacti. I finally make it inside my apartment and what do I do? Call my ex-boyfriend (whom I just had my number changed because of ONE WEEK AGO) and tell him to come over because I wanna bone! And he does, and we do. In my defense: We are fabulous together in bed and he's very well-endowed.

So, there was my Saturday night. I really hate me sometimes.