Thursday, December 30, 2004

Resolutions you should have made.

Sorry for the lapse in posting, the holiday hustle-and-bustle has gotten to the contributors of LoserEx. We will return in the New Year with more bitching and moaning, but until then, here is a joint post of resolutions you should have made all those years ago. Who knows, maybe if you had made them then, we would have been kissing you tomorrow night (but this is highly unlikely).

  1. Learn to drive. This applies to a couple of people. Actually, it should be a broader category of attain necessary accoutrements for driving (ie, a driver's license, insurance and a car).
  2. Wipe your ass thoroughly after taking a crap. I shouldn't even have to say this one.
  3. Learn to speak, read and write English. All of live here, most of you were actually born here. Become familiar with our native tongue.
  4. Stop stealing silverware, etc from restaurants. It only drives up prices that our current boyfriends have to pay to take us out. Don't make them look cheap.
  5. This is sort of a long the same lines but stop stealing scrubs from the damn emergency room. Ever wonder why there's a so-called healthcare crisis?
  6. Stop trying to stick your tongue in every crevice of our bodies. Your tongue up my nose is not incredibly erotic. There's a good reason why I don't date my dog. (This also goes for putting our jewelry in your mouth. If you want to make sure my pearls are real, throw down your plastic for a new string.)
  7. Learn to dress yourself. See previous post for a list of unacceptable items. Print it out and take it to the mall with you when you go spend those giftcards you got from Aunt Beverly.
  8. Come up with a date that's classier than drinking gin and Sprite through a turkey baster. It's like giving my mouth an illegal abortion and it is not my right to kill my mouth babies.
  9. Stop getting so drunk that you wake up to your dad hosing you down in a field when you're covered in chicken and have had your pubes shaved off. But if you think this is going to happen, please don't call us at 4AM to tell us how you got to your current state. We really don't care.
  10. Finally learn that when we offer to pay we're not actually offering to pay. This is your cue to throw down your plastic.
  11. Lose your religion. Especially if it is borderline cult-like.
  12. There will be at least four (but hopefully more) gift-giving occasions this year: our birthday, our anniversary, Valentine's Day and Christmas (these are not in sequential order). Do not give us a crappy gift. When in doubt, the following is acceptable: expensive gourmet chocolates, expensive white gold jewelry, expensive perfume that is not endorsed by a pop tart, an expensive dog with a smushy face and an expensive vacation to someplace exotic. Notice that the words "Bargain", "Gift Card", "Homemade Art" and "Fredericks of Hollywood" do not appear in this list. That's not because we forgot them.
  13. Acquire good taste in music. None of you are black, please set your programmed radio stations accordingly. If the song has to be drastically edited for the radio station, it is probably not good music so stop tuning to the station where every other lyric is bleeped out.
  14. Get a job and move out of your parents' basement. At 26, this is just pitiful. If you can't support yourself with your current gig, maybe it's time to try a new career. Afterall, you did graduate from "John" Hopkins.
  15. Don't call me skanky, fat, dumb, prudish, stuck-up, arrogant, heartless, selfish, difficult, etc. Especially not when you're blowing my cell phone up with drunk text messages at 3AM on a Tuesday. Who does that?
  16. Don't google me. That's so sketchy.
  17. Stop lying about the other women you're sleeping with, your brain cancer diagnosis, the size of your package, your age, your job, your whereabouts, your personal hygiene habits (look, I shouldn't even have to ask if you brushed your teeth, but I can sure as hell tell if you're lying to me), your plans for the future (including moving my shit to my apartment), or really anything else. Just don't lie. We will find out and when we do we will not be happy.
  18. Don't call my dog ugly or misbehaved (don't say it about my sister either).
  19. Make your room me-friendly. Take down the 500 paintings of me you created after we broke up, take down the posters of the Playboy Bunnies, get some furniture so I don't have to sit on the damn floor when I come over, quit turning the air conditioner on in February so that I get THOs when I come over, clean your bathroom and kitchen (this is big), stock your pantry with stuff other than beef jerky, doritos and beer, throw away petrified left-overs and buy at least one DVD that does not star Jackie Chan, Angelina Jolie, Jenna Jameson, Sylvester Stallone, Jet Li, or The Governator. As much as we love Ah-nold, his movies leave much to be desired.
  20. Don't blame me for your sub-par grades.
  21. Try to avoid being thrown in the looney bin this year. Avoid prison too.

We'd love to say we'd rather be kissing you tomorrow night, but well, we wouldn't want to lie to you. We'd honestly rather spend tomorrow playing leapfrog with unicorns. But hey, given a little effort you are all capable of becoming mediocre dates for fat 30-somethings. Aim high, boys.

Happy New Year from us here at LoserEx!!

Friday, December 24, 2004

The hardest part of breaking-up is getting back your stuff.

Ok, here are some new ones.

Boris- Used to get really pissed off when my best friend and I played the Penis Game (which is that game people play when they're 14 which consists of taking turns yelling the word "penis" progressively louder). One time, he yelled at us, and told us that it was obnoxious. So I apologized for my rude behavior. Then, I told him that we would play a less-offensive game called "The Scrotum Game," which he agreed to let us play. Needless to say, this was the same game with a different word. I don't know how anyone could have not caught onto this. I guess the game grew on him, because a few days later, he wanted to play it. It ended when he rolled down his car window at a red light, looked at the woman in the car next to us, and yelled the worst possible word to yell at her. She followed us for twenty minutes. I was shocked that the cops never came after us that day. Dumbass, the penis game is one thing, but sexual harassment is another.

Fruit Fly- Here is the very first conversation we ever had. Really, I had just met him 30 seconds prior to this discussion.

Him- Ok, so I have this problem, and I need some advice on it.

Me- Um...

Him- Ok, so I got really drunk last weekend, and passed out, and when I woke up, I was naked and all of my pubes were shaven off. Now, they're starting to grow back, and they're little red, ictchy bumps. It really itches, I don't know what to do about it. Do you know what I should do?

Me- Um....exfoliate?

Him- Ex-fo-li-huh?

The rest of the conversation was me explaning what exfoliating is. Hey buddy, teling people about whats going-on down there is not a good way to meet women.

Shrek- I really hate this guy. I don't know If I've made that clear in past entries, so I want to say it now. I have nothing against the other guys, other than they were lousy boyfriends. But, I really hate this one. He is the only person I have ever dated whom I do not wish to ever talk to again. Boris and Fruit Fly are nice guys, and I still talk to both regularly. Shrek is the only person I have dated that I would consider a mistake. With that being said, here is my complaint for him today:
So, I was moving to my apartment, and I had asked Shrek a few weeks in advance if he could help move my stuff once I boxed it. I asked, because I told him I would just have my mom and step dad come down to help me move if that was a hassle. He said it was no problem, and we even scheduled two days to move my stuff. Well, a few weeks later, day one rolled around, and he told me he was going to help his D&D (yeah, I know) buddies move their stuff instead. They had asked him 5 minutes prior. Also, they are big guys, and there are two of them, there is no reason why they could not move their own belongings. But, being the way-too-much-of-a-pushover that I am, I allowed this. Day two, he told me that he was tired, and he wasn't going to move my stuff. Now, I was left with a few hours to move before I was fined. I called a sister, and she helped me. The only things left were my TV, computer, and fridge, which Shrek had moved into his room. He refused to take these to my apartment for weeks, even after we had broken up. To this day, he still has my microwave. I'm not sure if I am going to try to get it back. It was only $30, and that almost makes it seem a reasonable price to never have to deal with him again. He likes to hold on to my stff, because he thinks it will bring me back to get it. I don't want to play this game. I am done with him, there is (almost) nothing he could have of mine that has enough value that would make me come back to get it. $30 seems to be a fair price to be able to move on with my life.

God help me.

My first boyfriend was a Mormon.

God, where should I even begin with this one? I should have ran away when I first met him, but unfortunately I stuck around for two years and I'm sure if I were to show up at Nottie's or someplace tonight I would be asked "Are you still dating the Mormon?"

Umm, no. We broke up seven years ago, but that's what happens when you date someone for so long in high school.

He's married now (no big surprise there), so I can talk about him now because it's not like his (mormon) wife is going to divorce him or anything.

For religious reasons I could not see or talk to him on Sundays. Keeping the sabbath holy or something. I also could not see him on holidays, including Christmas, Easter, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day, Independence Day, Bastille Day, Boxing Day...pretty much if the banks were closed I couldn't see him. He would go to church all day on these days, or at least that's what he told me.

For a while there was also a rule that for every date we went on, he had to take a Mormon girl on a date. I guess so that he could find a wife before he graduated from high school.

(This shit would not stand now, but I was naive.)

We couldn't watch R-rated movies. He was over at my house one time and my parents were watching Dracula (the Bram Stoker version) and he asked me to ask my parents to turn it off because he couldn't watch it.

He was also cheap as hell. I think we went out maybe like four times in the two years that we dated. The rest of the time we'd watch movies at my house. Then we would make out. Then he would tell me I was going to hell because God didn't want him making out with non-mormon heathens. In fact, I was really the devil because I was trying to make him "unpure" so that he couldn't enter the temple.

In April of his senior year I found out he still hadn't applied to any colleges. I filled out the damn HCC application for him and mailed it in. I guess he spent too much time praying to actually apply to college.

He had this t-shirt from the Physics Olympics that he wore like everyday. With a flannel shirt, five years after the grunge look was in style. When I first met him he didn't bathe on a regular basis. He actually wrote in my yearbook "You have taught me the importance of hygiene when no one else could." Nice. Isn't cleanliness next to godliness?

He wrote (and sometimes spoke) in his rendition of old english. There was a lot of "ye" and "doth" in his vernacular. Yeah, that was a good time. (That thing in the yearbook probably actually says "Ye hath taught me...")

He wouldn't cuss. At first this was funny, but after awhile "Gosh darn it!" got pretty damn annoying.

He wouldn't drink caffeine and he told me my little sister needed to go into drug treatment because of her caffeine addiction (because she would drink ONE CAN of Dr. Pepper after school everyday).

The gas gauge in his car was broken. Instead of having it fixed (or at least watching the trip odometer), he would just drive his car until it ran out of gas and then have me call my mother to come pick us up.

Once, he promised to take me to the circus but then his family came into town and they were going to go to the beach instead. Rather than calling me and explaining and dealing with a little bit of whining from me, he had his mother call and tell me that until we were married, his family came first.

Junior year, he got "called" on his mission. He would be gone for two years and we wouldn't be allowed to talk to each other. He chose to break this news to me at halftime during a Friday-night basketball game. I was a cheerleader. It was one of the few times he actually game to one of my games. I think I ran out of the gym crying. It was real fun trying to be peppy after that. And then his cheap ass didn't even take me to dinner after the game.

He left on his mission the day before we left for Disney World for Nationals. Needless to say, I didn't have a good time in Florida that year.

A few weeks later he went apeshit and got kicked off his mission. He came back to Slumbia but didn't bother telling me. I guess he thought he could keep it a secret. One of the girls who danced with me went to his church. She was the one who told me he was back. I started hyperventilating in the middle of the dance studio. I got to go home early. You can guess where I stopped on my way home. That's when I broke it off for good, two years too late.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Driving Mr. Daisy

Okay, in RGB's first post, she complained about an 18-year old who didn't have his driver's license. I dated a 24-year old who had his license, made more money than I do, paid less in expenses than I do and still was too cheap to buy a car. So we took my car everywhere.
He was also too spastic to learn how to drive stick shift (real men drive stick) so I also had to drive us everywhere.
He had no problem, however, choosing destinations on the other side of the friggin' state. I mean, Valentine's Day in Rochester is nice, but why the hell do I have to drive?
You know how much it sucks to be the sober cab? Imagine doing that for an entire year. And then never question my lack of a tolerance to alcohol again.

Friday, December 17, 2004

'Tis the season

Since it's the last weekend before Christmas and I know the mall will be jam-packed with men who forgot that this holiday occurs on the same day every year and are trying to find what the salesguy at Zales deems the perfect gift, I figured I'd offer my stories of the worst gifts ever. Consider it "what not to buy":

  • A teddy bear that you bought in August and slept with every night so now it smells like your funk
  • A popsicle-maker--the plastic kind you pour juice in and stick in the freezer for a few hours
  • A musical Mickey Mouse toothbrush
  • a poem that you wrote, especially if you don't have a basic grasp of the English language
  • The Book of Mormon, with your favorite passages marked
  • A DVD that you really want
  • A video you already own
  • Anything stolen from the local emergency room
  • Anything from Fredericks of Hollywood. Especially if it resembles something Mrs. Claus would wear in a porno.
  • The necklace she asked for at her birthday six months ago that you neglected to buy.
  • A gift certificate to Outback Steak House (I haven't received this one yet, but the current boyfriend has threatened me with it)
  • An ugly "Y" necklace--ten years after "Y" necklaces ceased to be in style
  • An "open-heart" necklace--especially if you bought her an "open-heart" necklace last year
  • A Hillary Duff calendar

The sad thing is I've actually received every single one of these gifts and I've actually been forced to act surprised and delighted at each and every one. Yet every year, I agonize over what to get my boyfriend. This year I took the why-bother route. I got him a present, but it took me about five minutes to figure out what to get him. He'll like it because there will be hell to pay if he doesn't.

Plus the only thing he really wants for Christmas is to get in my pants so if I lead him on for awhile, he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Your best friend won't tell you what not to wear, but I am not your best friend.

Let's face it: men have very little sense of style. While I can accept that men won't iron their clothes, or may wear t-shirts in the middle of winter, I cannot accept the fashion crimes of my exes.

Boris- I could go on forever about this one, so I am just going to list a few of the worst things which he wore:

  • black jeans -about 10 years after they ceased to be in style
  • white jeans -often with a white t-shirt
  • jeans in any other obnoxious color you can think of- including, but not limited to: red, green, and funny blue
  • sweat pants -the kind from k-mart with the elastic in the ankles (and in assorted colors)...and I mean he wore these out of the house, like to school or out to eat.
  • a variety of shirts from k-mart -which, in his defense were plain, and therefore not too bad
  • brown shoes with black slacks- there's really nothing to be said here.
  • those stupid shirts boys wore in 1st grade with animals on them, and some sort of nature scene -the worst of which being this green one which had a huge eagle on it, and some trees in the background, then at the bottom in HUGE letters, said "Field Master" and he wore it with olive-colored jeans. I still cringe when I think about this one.

Fruit Fly- Was prissy about what he would wear. He wanted to maintain his gay-punk-does-this-color-look-good-on-me style. Oddly enough however, he dressed like a tool. Key pieces of his wardrobe are as follows:

  • Those hanes white undershirts worn as outer shirts- he wore this almost every day.
  • Those hanes white tank tops worn as outer shirts- this was so gross. It showed a lot of chest hair, and looked...well, skanky. Mellie called him "nudie boy" after he wore this to school once.
  • a pair of baggy punk-esque khakis with holes covered in duct tape- he never wore shorts. For awhile, he only had one pair of these pants. This was not because his family was poor or anything, it was because he was too prissy about his pants to find another pair he liked. The finally pissed me off so much, I bought him a pair of $11 pants at old navy and told him to please discard the duct-taped pants.
  • a pair of flip-flops held together by duct tape- he would never wear sneakers because, he didn't like the way they made his feet look. He eventually realized that he needed some closed-toe shoes for the winter, and spent all winter making me take him to various shoe stores, where no shoe was what he wanted. In the spring, he finally settled on a pair of slip-on brown leather shoes with sneaker-like rubber soles which look much like what one's grandfather would wear. When he showed me these, I didn't know what to say, until he wore them with black leather accesories, then I knew exactly what to say: "The fashion police are going to get you if you do not change something here." Seriously, these shoes were soooo ugly. I can't believe someone so prissy about shoes could ever find these to be the right shoes. I can't imagine anyone wanteing to wear these, unless they are really old and no longer have th motor skills needed to tie their own shoes.
  • assorted bracelets and necklaces- most of which were either hemp, or those little metal ball necklaces which no punk can be without. He also had a this black, shiney vinyl wrist cuff that he wore...but he lost it one day.
  • a buttload of hair products- including, but not limited to a collection of gels, sprays and pomades. He would never want to leave the house without having his hair done. Or without plucking his eyebrows. He plucked more than I do.
  • a leather coat that felt like plastic and had a funny shape to it- it was, um, interesting. Once again, this was the only coat which he would wear, because he didn't like the way coats looked on him.
  • my purse- I'd often ask him to hold my purse for a second, and he would not just hold it, but put it on his shoulder and strut with it.
  • a few band t-shirts- although he would always swear he didn't like the band which the shirt was of...whatever.
  • a navy blue hoodie- worn almost everyday. It was coming apart at the seams, and he even sang about his damn hoodie.
  • Thrift store finds- including, but not limited to: a CCCP t-shirt, a pair of Burgundy corduroys (which "made him strut"), some goofy-ass hats, and a shirt that looked like clown vomit.

Shrek- was just so dirty. His clothing wouldn't have been too bad, had he just washed it once in awhile. When I sent some people over to get my stuff from his room a few months ago, they were so grossed out by how he was wearing dirty clothes, and obviously did not practice the most rigorous of hygiene- routines. Aside from everything being dirty, here are some of the bad things Shrek wore:


  • Free shirts- which would not have been so bad, but this was all he wore. He only had like 3 shirts which were not free, and I did not buy him. He wore this one I got at CR which was really ugy. It had a herd of angry elephants at said "Stampede to Victory: Bush/Cheney 2004." Oddly enough, he is pretty apathetic towards politics, and would only pretend to be a strong supporter of the Republican party because, he wanted to dupe me into thinking we had similar values. What a tool. Look, I really don't care if people have beliefs different from my own, but at least have the balls to say what they are, and have a damn good reason behind them.
  • Big Dog shirts- remember those? I bet you do. Know anyone who still wears them? I bet you don't. He told me that he wore them because they were meant to fit people who were big (he was really tall, and broad...ok, fat). To this day, I do not know if that is true or not. All I know is that they made him look like a Big Dumbass.
  • skid-marked underwear- sorry I brought that up again. ew.
  • shorts- and almost never pants. Even in the dead of winter, he would wear shorts and a t-shirt.
  • sneakers- boy did not ever wear a pair of nice shoes, even when we went out to dinner with my parents on New Years, he wore black slacks with ugly-ass white sneakers. And his feet were size 16, so those damn sneakers were HUGE and always stood-out. I hated this. Well, I mean, it's ok to wear sneakers with jeans and stuff, but when we go out, and you wear slacks, wear some nice shoes too, dipsh*t.

This was all he ever wore. Ever. And remember, it was almost always dirty. He smelled really really bad. My friends told me his room was covered with half-eaten food which was decaying, and piles of clothes which are obviously dirty when I sent them to retrieve my belongings he had held captive. Charming.

Look, I don't want a guy who dresses better than me. I just want a guy who wears clothes which are clean, and not stupid. I am ok with guys who like to dress casually. A t-shirt (which was not a freebie), or a polo shirt with jeans is totally acceptable. Also, wear a sweater in the winter, or at least a long sleeve shirt with some pants. And when we go out, PLEASE wear some shoes which are not sneakers or flip-flops held together by duct tape. All I am saying is I put effort into the way I look, I just want you to do the same.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

So much for my happy ending.

Well, since I missed a day (almost two), that means, I get to share especially vicious complaints today. Here it comes:

Boris- Lacked phone etiquette. Really. Ok, first of all, he had this job over the summer at his father's place of work. He got a short lunch break, and for some reason felt he must call me everyday during it. Of course, whie he did this, he usually, no, ALWAYS was eating. Let me just say, that eating on the phone is gross. I do not want to hear chewing noises amplified into my ear, thank you. It didn't stop there though. He called way too often. If I didn't for whatever reason, answer my phone, he would call my best friend's phone. If she didn't answer, he would call her mother, and ask where we were. Ok, I don't know what you do in Romania, but in the US, we leave voicemails. Then, he went out of the country for two and a half months. During this time, I heard fromhim for a grand total of 5 minutes, spread over two phone calls...um...what happened to the calling, buddy? Find something easier over seas? If I had been the person then that I am now, I would have taken a side order during this time, but I was way too loyal to do anything like that then. Needless to say, the relationship died fast after his two and a half month disappearance.

Fruit Fly- Is completely self-unaware ( I think I made that term up). What I mean is this: most of us have a good sense of who we are. We know what our strengths are, and we know what our weaknesses are. This guy had no ricking clue. First of all, he thought he was straight, when he was clearly not. This didn't bother me though, I mean, a gay boyfriend is fun to shop with. What did was the fact that he thought he was the world's greatest musician, destined for rock-star status. The truth of the matter was: he played a few cords on his bass guitar. He couldn't sing for crap, but he thought he could. He didn't really know how to play a single instrument, and he knew nothing about music, other than the bad punk he illegally downloaded off the internet. He often got on these kicks about how I don't understand him, because I am not a musicain. Once, this finally got to me, and I asked him if he could read music, and suggested giving him a sight-reading test to find out. He declined this offer, and admitted that he cannot read music. Then, I asked him if he played anything other than a few cords on the bass. His answer: no. So, I told him to get off his damn "I'm a musicain" kick, because I am not buying it, and I am sick of hearing it. Then, there was the whole art thing. Look, the guy took photos, warped them on paintshop, then traced them on a canvas. This is such crap. I cannot accept this as artistic talent. Sorry.

Shrek- I used to do this guy's laundry. The first time I ever did, I was horrified when I saw his boxers. They had skid marks. I tried not to let it get to me, but it did. This is so gross. I knew then, that I could never marry this guy. I mean, imagine the honeymoon. What if his butt leaked all over the white sheets of the resort which we were at. Not only could I not have sex with this guy because a) he is nasty and b) the sheets would be icky, but I would also be mortified when housekeeping came to change the sheets. Surely they'd be thinking that he was putting it somewhere that I would never let anyone put it.

Well, those are the worst stories I will publish for awhile. I feel bad having said all this mean stuff. Well, not bad enough to push the "Publish Post" button...hehehehehhehehee...SCREW YOU, EXES!

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Throwing down the plastic

Hmmm...more on MB

He really really liked these two singers. I really like these two singers too so when I heard they were playing in Columbus, I got tickets (at $150 a pop). MB assumed that since the concert was a few weeks after his birthday, the tickets were my birthday present to him and made plans to come to Columbus to see this show. The thing is, we weren't dating when I bought the tickets and we sure as hell weren't dating when the concert rolled around. In fact, I was dating another guy and was blissfully happy with him.
But on the day of the concert, MB showed up in Columbus (he drove seven hours to get there). Feeling really bad that I didn't make it incredibly clear to him that he wasn't invited (I thought the fact I was dating another guy was was a sure sign), I cancelled on the girlfriend I was going to go with (the current boyfriend wasn't too keen into these performers and he had some stuff to do anyways) and told MB I would pick him up at five. That was my first mistake, I really should have held my ground.
We're sitting in the concert venue and I'm a little pissed about the whole situation but I'm trying to make the best of it so I ask what's new in his life.
"Well, I don't know how to say this but I'm dating someone."
"Really? How long has this been?"
"Since Mardi Gras. " (Note: Easter had been early this year so Mardi Gras had fallen at the beginning of February. According to MB, I "ripped his heart out" in late January. How bad could it possibly have been if he was DATING EXCLUSIVELY again at the beginning of February?!?!)
"Okay. What's her name? What's she like?"
"Her name is Jan, she's 30 and has about 15 pounds on you."
Niiiice (I am a firm believer that it is downright insulting to date someone uglier/fatter/not as gainfully employed as your ex. I realize this makes life difficult for my exes, but they should consider it a small price to pay to date such greatness).
Needless to say, I was pissed that he made me waste my concert-going experience (not to mention the price I paid for the tickets) so that he didn't have to tell me over the phone that he had a new girlfriend. Furthermore, what the hell was his girlfriend doing, letting him drive seven hours to essentially go on a date with his exgirlfriend? If my boyfriend tried to pull this one over on me I would nail his testicles to the wall. Literally.
So we get through the concert and I'm expecting him to at least buy me dinner. I subtly hint at this in the usual form ("Are you hungry?") and he ignores it. Right before I'm about to drop him off, he's like "can we go through the Wendy's drive-through?" and I'm like sure, thinking french fries sound incredible at this point (with a side of chocolate ice cream and maybe a bottle of beaujolais). Since I'm driving, I get to talk into the little box so I relay his order and then order my french fries. I pull through to the first window, expecting him to hand me money and he gives me exact change for his purchase.
So the bastard ruined the most spectacular concert of my life at my expense and then wouldn't buy my damn dollar-menu french fries. And since he was already my ex, I had no way to recoup my losses.
Cheap asshole.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

You don't sweep me off my feet.

Okay, my turn.
I'm still pretty good friends with many of my exes so I am rather limited in the people I can say things about but let's talk about MB for a second.
MB is short for "man boobs". My friend Dave gave him this name when he was looking through vacation pictures and found one of MB and I. "Wow, this guy has man boobs!"
A lot of men have man boobs. But there is only one MB.
But that's not the story.
When I dated MB, I had really severe rheumatoid arthritis. Oftentimes the RA made walking and moving extremely painful (actually, sitting was also extremely painful--RA is the most painful thing I have ever experienced). There were times when we were dating, that the pain was so bad I couldn't walk and MB (who is significantly larger than I am) would carry me around (NB, it wasn't like we were going to the bars and stuff. Most of our "dating" involved sitting in my living room, watching movies because I could not go out. At the end of the night, he would help me get upstairs so that I could go to bed because I physically could not do stairs--stuff like that--if we were in public, like at dinner or something, I would hobble around on my own).
MB and I subsequently broke up. To this day, he still gets drunk and blows up my cell phone with text messages about how "he carried me around when I was sick and I never loved him back," as if that's going to make me come crying back to him.
Just remember this ladies, if I guy ever causes your feet to leave the ground, you have to marry him.

You do not warrant long goodbyes.

New day = new complaints to share

Boris- Seemed to have this misconception that I only listen to modern rock music (to this day, I still don't know why) and one day thought he would "expand" my musical tastes. He put in some tape of this god-awful foreign music that sounded like the European equivilant of Michael Bolton. Then, he asked me if I liked it. Not wanting to be impolite (yeah, I used to be polite), I told him "yeah, it's good" to which he responded "See? It doesn't have to be rock music to be good." He seemed to think he was teaching me a life lesson. As I recall, a week prior to this incident, he had taken my CD of Handel's Messiah out of his player because he thought it was obnoxious. On another occasion, he had done the same to my Jimmy Buffett CD, and a random mix CD with a variety of musical genres. Um, ok, who has limited tastes in music?

Fruit Fly- Always has these "brilliant" ideas for some sort of modern art project. This would have been ok, except it awlays involved some sort of preparation which was completely unacceptable. For example, he spent a few months stealing silverware from restaurants every single time we went out to eat. He just couldn't resist slipping a few utensils into his pocket. It was horribly embarassing. I've never stolen anything in my life, and it was very uncomfortable for me to have to sit there while he did. Buddy- kleptomania is not an art project.

Shrek- I only own one halter top, which I bought for New Years' Eve last year. It is not in anyway revealing, or trashy, rather, it is cute and fun. I bought it at the mall with my mother (for those of you who do not know me well, I have a very conservative southern mother who would never let me dress like a skank). Well, lardass came to visit me for the holidays, and didn't want to take me out for New Years. Jerk. So, we went out to dinner with my parents, and I wore the shirt with a cardigan and a skirt (which was knee-length). He told me it was "slutty" and it was embarassing for him to be seen with me. Ass. I should also mention here that his female friends (all of whom he swears are not sluts and will defend to the death) wear nothing but the skankiest of tank tops and skirts (which come up to thier C U Next Tuesdays. No sweaters over the tank tops either). Furthermore, his female friends do not have, ahem, the most virtuous of reputations. Since that, I have wondered if this shirt is, in fact, skanky. I have asked several people, all of whom laugh at me, and tell me I'm being ridiculous for thinking that. Well, buddy, you may think one of my shirts is skanky, but I know all of your clothes are dirty.

...and it looks like I have once again reached my daily limit.

Monday, December 13, 2004

I kinda always knew I'd end up your exgirlfriend

So I'm sitting on the couch with laptop (courtesy of the new wireless internet I set up all by myself), attempting to do some work for my job, but I also have Love Actually in the DVD player, so I'm not really doing much work (as is probably evidenced by the fact I am posting to my little sister's blog about horrendous ex-boyfriends, of which I have plenty).
Before I launch into my dickhead/dickless/whiskeydick-affected menagerie of ex-boyfriends, I feel obligated to say that I am not a ball-busting-bull-dyke-man-hater. Nothing at all like that. I really am a hopeless romantic. I can find something to love in just about everyone (and most of the time I do). The men I discuss here obviously did something repulsive to appear here. Otherwise, we'd be happily married with like a billion children (well, maybe not).
Now for their transgressions: I don't want to list this in chronological order, mostly because many of my exes aren't all that interesting (at least at this point) and I don't have all night. So here are the highlights:

Door #1: "Mr. Minnesota"

The first thing that turned me off about Mr. Minnesota is that he is an idiot but he is completely ignorant of his ignorance. He is also an authority on everything. Case in point: I was going on a trip to visit my sister in New Orleans last Easter. Mr. Minnesota knew about this and sends me an e-mail telling me about the sights I should see in New Orleans. An excerpt from his e-mail: "you should go to this cafe in the French Quarter where they have coffee with chickory and world-famous powdered donuts." BEIGNETS, DUMBASS!
Despite this, I agreed to go on a date with Mr. Minnesota. The night before, I had been out drinking with my friends and I spent all day throwing up, but Mr. Minnesota wouldn't let me cancel because he had already bought tickets for a show. So he picks me up and brings me two bottles of wine and a dozen roses (can you say overkill). He proceeds to take me to one of the priciest restaurants in Minneapolis and then to the play (Romeo and Juliet, because that's not a cliche) where I sit in a cold, dark theater watching bad actors butcher Shakespeare, completely nauseated because he must have bathed in Polo Sport (gag--I love Ralph Lauren, I hate Polo Sport). He brings me home at the end of the night and asks if he can walk me upstairs. Until this point, I have never told a guy he couldn't walk me to my door (I usually just give them blueballs at the door). I look him in the eye and say "um, no."
He pulls out a piece of paper, on which he has written me a poem and tells me to "read it later". I can't make this stuff up. I sprung from the car and ran inside.
Congrats, Jackass, you took me on the worst date of my life.

Door #2: "AB"

Never ever date the guy you drunkenly suck face with at a Jimmy Buffett concert. Chances are good he only seems like a catch because you are faced.
AB and I dated very casually in the summer of 2003 while I was maintaining another blog. One night, we went out in College Park and I got completely wasted. AB tried to get me to fool around with him but I was really turned off by him.
A few days later, I wrote in blog about the incident (it was actually a lot more tactful than I'm making it sound). I concluded that even though there was nothing wrong with him, I was just not attracted to him at all and didn't want to date him. I also concluded that the best way to not date him was to two-week him. (Editor's note: "two-weeking" is the theory that if you don't communicate with someone for two weeks, you are no longer dating that person. It only works for people who are casually dating--obviously if you are serious you need to have a sit-down with your significant other when you want to dump his ass). I thought it would be a good idea to write all of this down in my blog and then I set about avoiding his calls.
Until he stopped calling my cell phone and stated calling my parents' house (how the hell did he get that number??). When I answered, he chewed my ass for a good hour. Apparently, he didn't think it was the least bit sketchy to GOOGLE SEARCH me and he came across the blog and read all about my evil little plot (I'm subsequently removed all references to myself from that site, making it damn near impossible to find it if you don't know what you're looking for).
How much sketchier can one get? But the sketchiest guy ever is behind

Door #3: "Bad Driving Man"

I was completely crazy about the bad driving man. Which is why I was heartbroken when he left for spring break, said "I'll call you when my plane lands, babe", and I never heard from him. Despite my calls and e-mails, I didn't hear a word from him until the last day of break when he called from the Columbus airport, wondering if I could pick his ass up and drive it back to college.
When I questioned his whereabouts, he told me he had gone to the ER for a headache and they found a spot on the MRI film and the doctors thought it was cancer so he and his (urologist) father flew from Chicagoland to LA to spend a week getting tested at the John Wayne Cancer Institute for brain cancer that turned out to be a speck of dust on the imaging equipment.
Now if you thought you had brain cancer, wouldn't you call your girlfriend of nine months and tell her? Furthermore, if lived in Chicago and thought you had brain cancer, wouldn't you stay in Chicago and go to one of their top hospitals? Or at least take a ONE HOUR plane ride to MAYO CLINIC (the best cancer hospital in the world) to have it looked at instead of flying all the way to a research facility?? But what do I know.
A few months later, after totalling my mother's convertible, he pulled the same stunt and I never heard from him again. No big loss there.

First complaint

To kick this off, everyone is getting a complaint today, just some are cheeky and dumb, others are downright evil.

Ex 1 (We'll call him 'Boris' due to his thick Eastern European accent)- One time we went to a diner, and he ordered a hamburger with feta cheese. It was so damn gross. He even ate it with his mouth open, commenting that I should try it. Um, no thanks.

Ex 2 (to be known as 'Fruit Fly' due to the fact he plays for the other team now)- Was 18 and still did not have a driver's licence, ergo, I had to drive everywhere -- including taking him home from school everyday (which was so out of the way). When I needed gas, he would neither pay, nor get his butt out of the car and pump the gas.

Ex 3 (I will call him 'Shrek' because he was such an ogre)- Once the ogre I was dating lost his calculator before his econ final, and he pitched a fit to borrow mine. Since I had already taken my stats final, I let him use it. Well, the moron lost it, and promised to buy me a new one, since I had a math course starting in two weeks. Two weeks came and went, and when I asked him to buy my a calculator, he threw a fit at me. Well, idiot, I need it for class, and you shouldn't have lost it. So, I end up buying one, since, unlike nimcapoop, I actually give a hoot about my classes. So, point is: I was out $80 for his: a) feeble-mindedness in losing my calculator and b) his extreme cheapness (and a-holeness, and irresponsibleness, etc.) for not buying me one to replace the one which he lost. If anyone out there actually talks to this doofus, tell him he still owes me $80.

Well, I could go on forever, but I am going to stop there. More tomorrow!