don't call me baby

Something tells me: a) this guy is not that successful, b) the...

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 23:24:05 -0600

Something tells me: a) this guy is not that successful, b) the internet is stalking me, and c) someone’s kind of unabashed with the “short” accusations.

Dear internet, stop trying to hook me up.

Why is everyone getting married?

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 22:50:00 -0600

Are we old enough for that now? I feel like I blinked and all of a sudden I’m the last one on the married bus. Actually I’m not even on the bus, it’s more like I’m that weird kid who missed the bus and is frantically running after it but it’s not stopping.

I hate it. Everyone… stop getting married. We’re all still children.

And the bus is gross.

On the list of things in my life that can fuck off...

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 21:54:13 -0600

Men are at the top.

No good. Cheating. Lying. Fucking men.

All of ‘em.

Ya’ll suck.

Your moms suck too.

What if I took off MY clothes in my pictures?

Thu, 05 Apr 2012 21:21:01 -0600

What kind of messages would I get if I was ACTUALLY trying to be a giant whore? I already get messages like, “Hey, wanna hook up?” or “Damn fine.” or my personal favorite, “What size boobs are those?” My pictures don’t scream sex pot. I don’t really think I have come-fuck-me eyes, and the pictures don’t show the come-fuck-me heels I typically adorn so that can’t be it. My profile is upbeat and happy… I talk about ponies and shit and I talk about how much I love sunshine.

So what if I did have some picture of my boobs hanging out, licking my lips, putting out my best come-hither stare? What the hell kind of messages would I get then? I’m almost curious enough to try it and see what happens.

Almost. I’m not that self-destructive.

And then there’s these guys with their shirts off in all their pictures, standing in the mirror like a fucking idiot holding an iPhone and attempting to flex so much they look constipated. Does that work for them? Do girls message THEM saying “Hey wanna hook up?” or “Wow, nice guns, BABY.” If they do, we have a much bigger problem on our hands than douchey guys on the internet. The bigger problem would be all the douchey girls on the internet.

I should just move back home and date that nice boy from high school.

THINGS YOU DON'T DO PART 2.

Sat, 31 Mar 2012 22:51:52 -0600

Invite me over, have no plan, pound a bunch of rum, drive me to a bar, drink more beers, fail to ask me a single question about me (like… “What do you do? Do you like Denver? What’s your favorite FUCKING COLOR?”), talk about how many millions your father has, be 23 and drive a Jaguar, duck out on the tab, get a bloody nose (fine, shit could happen to anyone) but not notice because you’re too drunk, blow up my phone after I leave asking “What you did wrong,” and not take “I just didn’t think we had any chemistry, nothing you did!” as a satisfactory answer and continuing to blow up my phone with phone calls/text messages.

Is this real life?

Things you DON'T do.

Sat, 31 Mar 2012 22:46:07 -0600

You don’t invite a girl over when she’s first moved to a new city, tell her how awesome she is, get her to stay over, mess around, be disappointed when she won’t fuck you, shoo her out of your house in the morning, never text her again, and then 9 months later find her on POF and shoot her a friendly “Long time no talk.”

FUCK YOU.

POF = POS

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 18:59:00 -0700

I had to disable my POF account. It was getting too depressing.

Does anyone actually have luck with that site? Seriously. Not just as a booty call. Appalling.

Here on business?

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 18:10:02 -0700

“Hey I’m here on business for another week so if you want to get a drink shoot me a text at XXX-XXX-XXXX.”

Read:

“Hey, wanna fuck and then forget about each other?”

FML.

"ME: “It’s like all I have to say is, “I’m a marketing coordinator.”..."

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 13:39:01 -0700

“ME: “It’s like all I have to say is, “I’m a marketing coordinator.” And boys just run away.
E: “You should probably start telling them you’re unemployed and need a man to make you happy.””

- Drunken conversations with my best friend.

is this your main blog?

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 01:22:30 -0700

Nah I have another one but I rarely update it. Actually I rarely update this one if we’re going by evidence, but I’m getting better about it.

"Did you know that Hitler, Mussolini and Genghis Khan were scared of cats? "

Mon, 02 Jan 2012 01:00:00 -0700

““Did you know that Hitler, Mussolini and Genghis Khan were scared of cats? “”

- I went on a bit of a blog hiatus because I was all, “Wow, life is uninteresting and no one gives a flying fuck.” But then friends of mine were all, “Wow, your life is interesting and I give a flying fuck.” And then on a brief stint in my home town I witnessed this little gem as a pick-up line… or something. So I had to start again. Meow.

If the truth came out of my mouth, we'd all be in trouble.

Wed, 03 Aug 2011 23:44:01 -0600

Sometimes I wonder how offensive my OKC profile would be if I was just completely honest and straightforward. Which I am, currently, to an extent, but nowhere near what’s actually going through my head.

Under “What I’m doing with my life” it would say something along the lines of:

“Drinking a lot in bars with hot bartenders. Being broke as hell. Putting up with sexual harassment from my boss. Disliking children.”

Under “Things I’m good at” it would read:

“Beer pong. Rolling my eyes. Calling you out when you say something stupid. Running away from good things. Cartwheels.”

Under “Message me if…” it would state:

“You’re shallow and think I’m pretty. You have tattoos. You treat women poorly but are attractive and have an unbeatable taste in music. If you live with your mother and/or do not own a car, move along. Points if you are a mind-blowing kisser.”

More people should be honest. Including me, probably. Right now my profile is sprinkled with sass and oozing with adorable girl quirks. In real life I’m a train wreck.

Who was it who said “Guys like girls who are train wrecks” ?

Gandhi maybe?

Little-Man-Red-Head-Faux-Hawk

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 23:41:00 -0600

I really need to be more selective about who I go out with. The bartender is going to start thinking I’m desperate. Little does he know if he’d just ask me out all of this madness could go away. Sigh. Onward.

I went out with this guy tonight who I knew from the first 27 texts we exchanged was going to be a huge disappointment. I really only have myself to blame. The thing is I actually do have a soul deep inside so when I tell someone I’m going to do something I actually follow through. I should really go back on my word more often.

Strike one: He was a tiny, tiny man. So wee. Like his features were even tiny. I could have flicked him and sent him to the emergency room. Sirens blaring. The bartender re-carded him. My beautiful bartender. I’m sorry you had to see me this way.

Strike two: He grabbed my hand and explained to me that because I was wearing my ring on my middle finger I channel “Hades” the god of the underworld which in life represents that I’m a party girl.*

Strike three: He lives with his mother.

And of course, HE texts me at the end of the night.

“Hey I had a lot of fun, ur a fun girl and I hope we can do it again :]”

Dude uses more emoticons via text that a 12-year-old on MySpace. No one is that happy.

My batting average is such shit.

*Disclaimer: I am a party girl. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t fucking weird.

"Red-Head Faux Hawk: (says something dumb) Me: “That doesn’t make any..."

Thu, 28 Jul 2011 23:33:24 -0600

“Red-Head Faux Hawk: (says something dumb)
Me: “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Red-Head Faux-Hawk: “I just have to tell you I’m the biggest practical joker.”
Me: “And I’m brutally honest.””

- Don’t say dumb shit and expect me to laugh at you.

Cabbie. Get out of my life.

Sun, 10 Jul 2011 12:23:00 -0600

Last night I went to a music festival with some amazing, however coupled people. Side note: this couple is probably my fave because they function completely individually, I can have epic conversations with both of them individually and they are adorbs when they’re together.

So we party, drink, dance, party more, and BAM I’m drunk. Surprise! Sloppily hitting on anything with two legs and failing at closing the deal. A whole separate story in itself. At about 1 am the female half of amazeballs couple says it’s time for us to go and the cab is there. My savior! I need to put this girl in my pocket and carry her with me everywhere because clearly if I was at this party any longer I would have A: hooked up with the drunk guy in the bathroom or B: thrown up. Or both.

Cue cab ride.

Couple’s apartment was closer to where we were and mine was more north so we dropped them off first. I, being the drunken trainwreck I am, had spent all my cash at the festival and was lacking funds to pay the rest of the way to my apartment so couple tossed the cabbie an extra five bucks to get me the rest of the way. Saving me again! They exit the cab and tell me to make sure I text when I’m home. I’m a lone soldier once again.

Listen up, folks. I’ve taken MANY a cab in my day. Alone. I even hail it myself. I’m pro. And EVERY damn time, the cabbie launches a conversation about why “a pretty girl like me is alone in a cab at the end of the night.”

Cabbie: “So why does the pretty blonde girl have a man to take care of her and he’s taking care of you as well? Where’s your man?”

Me: “Uh. Because he’s nice. And I don’t have one. Clearly.”

Cabbie: “You don’t have a boyfriend!?”

Me: Sigh. “No. I’m independent.”

Cabbie: “Well you should have a man to take care of you.”

Me: “I don’t need one.” Dying inside a little.

Usually dialogue like this stops there. I get out of the cab and go about my business making drunken grilled cheese and Facebook stalking. But last night, the cabbie actually gave me his number and asked me out.

Cabbie: “Here is my number. Call me if you need anything.”

Me: “Uhh..”

Cabbie: “So we go out sometime?”

Me: “No…oh… wow.” Fall out of cab.

No, I’m not kidding. His number is in the trash and I’m left scratching my head wondering why old foreign dudes are attracted to me.

The end.

"Me: “I’m really not a sweet girl. Which makes me cold-hearted by any definition. You..."

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 23:38:00 -0600

“

Me: “I’m really not a sweet girl. Which makes me cold-hearted by any definition. You should get out now.”

Him: “Luckily salt is my favorite flavor.”

”

- Should we do it now or later? And was that dirty? No? So just so you know, lines like that only occur in movies.

I love when movie things happen in real life.

Crap, now I'm the crazy one.

Sun, 26 Jun 2011 13:51:19 -0600

What is it about getting stood up that turns me into the Clingmaster?

Shouldn’t I be all “well fuck you too then!” and move on with my life?

Nah, I like to make it worse.

I’m one of those girls who needs an explanation. How dare me.

"can chance bring us together on this night? if you not doing will you take a risk and come enjoy..."

Sun, 26 Jun 2011 10:20:09 -0600

““can chance bring us together on this night? if you not doing will you take a risk and come enjoy your time with a stranger?””

- Awwwwww yeah! Never mind, everyone. Found me a winner!

Curse of the one-date curse. Cursing.

Sat, 25 Jun 2011 18:09:00 -0600

Since moving to my new city/state/life, I’ve gone on more dates in the last four months than I have in my entire life. More single dates. As in one, with one guy, and then never seeing him again. My friend swears this is because guys on POF are just looking for a hookup and since I have been cured of my hussy-tastic ways and don’t sleep with guys on the first date anymore, they move on to the next unassuming chick who just wants to find love, or whateverthefuck.

Single dates are worse than one night stands. Instead of acting like a real-life, feelingless slut, you have to actually talk to the person and get attached to them, making you emotionally slutty. I’ve tried the “don’t-talk-about-anything-serious” tactic, it doesn’t work. Guys just think I’m being a cold-hearted, closed-off bitch (much like my boss does, but that’s off-topic). So instead I actually try to get to know the guy, and usually we end up talking for hours. Not just small-talk. I’m talking engaged, “I’m actually listening to you and responding relevantly” conversation. At the end of the date I’m all “aw shucks” and he tells me he’d love to do this again sometime and he’ll text me tomorrow.

Then. NOTHING.

Nothing happens. No text. No call. It’s like he’s dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them have actually died in some brutal accident on their way home from dropping me at my apartment and I just never knew about it.

So then I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t offering up any sort of summin’ summin’ at the end of the date. Like, maybe he thinks I’m not into him because I stuttered through goodbyes, gave him the one-arm hug and tripped on the stairs as I was backing awkwardly away from him outside my apartment complex.

Fine. I can grow a pair and make a move. Hell, I did it in college with 7th-floor-Mike on the reg.

So I started making moves. This always ended well, unless he was a bad kisser or didn’t know what to do with his hands, or worse, BOTH (which is a story for another day). A make-out here, a hand hold there, never anything skankalicious, but a far cry from mumbled goodbyes and I hope to talk to you again. Typically, the date would last forever, and then at the end we’d make plans for Saturday.

And yet here I sit. One drunken cookie-making session, struggle through the movie 300, an epic, epic make-out, two requests for “don’t go home yet” and three days later, and I’m getting stood up.

This leads me to believe that all online men want sex and that is all.

I’ll be shocked when a second date actually happens. And the guy isn’t a crazy psychopath (this story goes with the guy who didn’t know what to do with his hands, again, later).

I was doing way better when I was sluttin’ it up.

"hi cutie,my name is ——.I was browsing through and I found your profile,you sound cute..."

Sat, 25 Jun 2011 17:44:00 -0600

““hi cutie,my name is ——.I was browsing through and I found your profile,you sound cute with your words and you are very attractive and beautiful,i would like to get to meet a cute hearted woman like you. hope to hear from you soon.””

- Is your spacebar broken? Or is it just too cute for you to use it.