Back in college, when I actually had free time, I used to make greeting cards for birthdays, thank-you notes and any other occasion which merited a card. I don't mean "make" in the sense of printing off my computer, or even using a sheet of computer paper and drawing on it. My cards were all quite tasteful, and carefully crafted.
One year, I had a particularly cute idea of making Christmas cards that would have a sprig of mistletoe tied to the front with a little red ribbon. On the inside would be red lipstick kiss. I think I may have thought up something corny like "Merry Kissmas" to write on the inside under the big red kiss. Well, it was actually most likely something more creative than that, but that was the general idea of the message.
So, I went to the store, bought heavy cardstock, mistletoe, ribbon and adhesive gold strips for a border. These were going to be the cutest cards, ever! I was so excited about it, I started putting them together as soon as I got home. In the midst of all the cutting, gluing and kissing, Shrek's fat ass wandered over to my dorm.
At first he didn't get it. "Why would you kiss a card that is going to a friend?" I explained to him the tradition regarding mistletoe. He told me that my cards were slutty, and that if he received one from a girl, he would assume she was hitting on him. I believe I have addressed this before, but Shrek always thought everyone was hitting on him.
Apparently he missed the memo on how to actually flirt with someone. I mean, seriously. A girl asked to borrow his notes, and he assumed she was really asking to suck his dick. Two girls asked him for the time, and he thought they were asking for a threesome. A guy held the door open for him and apparently that means that he wanted to be pounded in the ass by Shrek.
We got in a fight about the damn cards, and he threw the biggest temper tantrum imaginable about it. I ended up throwing them in the back of a drawer somewhere. Maybe one day I will make them again.
This time, I will send one to him with the message "Kiss my ass, dickhead!"
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year...
It's that time of the year again here at LoserEx. That's right, it's time for the shopping extravaganza that is buying my Christmas and birthday presents (please note the plural, meaning I do not accept joint presents -- each holiday deserves a distinct gift).
Two years ago, CCG made a post about appropriate gifting, but I think it's time for a refresher course about what not to give. So, here it is, for your education -- the top 10 worst gifts I've ever received from a boyfriend.
10) Grocery store bonanza!- I once got the grocery store special for Valentine's day. It was awful. I don't want a damn Hershey bar and the obnoxiously bright Crazy Daisies. I want something nice. But if you're not going to spring for that, then at least get me nice flowers and Godiva chocolate. And also expect me to sulk about the fact I didn't get anything nice.
9) 12 pounds of cheese- Who can even eat this much cheese before it goes bad? Who has room in their fridge for this much cheese? Not me. If anyone gives me cheese this year, I am hiding it in under their bed so it rots and stinks up their apartment.
8) A shirt with ostrich feathers around the neck- Understand that while I am not always the most stylish person, I am always better at picking out clothes than any of the men I've dated. Rule of thumb for the men in my life: if you think I might like a certain article of clothing, you are probably wrong.
7) A shirt that looks like something a hooker in Eastern Europe would wear- Let's discuss the rule for clothing again: if you think it is something I might like, you are probably wrong.
6) A self-portrait- there is only one face I would enjoy commemorated in a painting, and that is my own. But really, don't give me a portrait of myself either. The worst part about the self-portrait I got wasn't that it was a bad idea, or that it was poorly painted. No, the worst part was the fact it was given to me three weeks after Christmas and since my birthday falls during that time, I somehow did not get a birthday present.
5) A moderately-priced dinner- On my birthday, you are obligated to take me to an expensive dinner. There is no way around this. This is not my gift for my birthday. This is in addition to my gift, which for the record, I would not like to receive while in the restaurant. You should give it to me before we go out because, if you are worth the two hours I must waste going to dinner with you, then your gift is David Yurman that I can wear out to dinner.
4) A shirt from Hot Topic- WHY?
3) Tacky jewelry which exceeds the size of a quarter, and is probably worth even less- If you bought it at the airport in the "Celebrate Colorado" store, then it probably is not something I want. Thanks.
2) A stuffed koala bear with a red plant coming out of its ass- This needs no explanation.
1) Nothing- The best surprise is no surprise? Yeah, maybe if you're talking about getting tested for the hiv. When it pertains to a gift for me though, it had better be something.
There it is. I do not expect to get anything on this list ever again. If I do, there will be hell to pay.
Yes, I realize this is bitchy, but so is giving me a self-portrait. Furthermore, if you want a girlfriend who is low maintenance, check out the trailer park.
Two years ago, CCG made a post about appropriate gifting, but I think it's time for a refresher course about what not to give. So, here it is, for your education -- the top 10 worst gifts I've ever received from a boyfriend.
10) Grocery store bonanza!- I once got the grocery store special for Valentine's day. It was awful. I don't want a damn Hershey bar and the obnoxiously bright Crazy Daisies. I want something nice. But if you're not going to spring for that, then at least get me nice flowers and Godiva chocolate. And also expect me to sulk about the fact I didn't get anything nice.
9) 12 pounds of cheese- Who can even eat this much cheese before it goes bad? Who has room in their fridge for this much cheese? Not me. If anyone gives me cheese this year, I am hiding it in under their bed so it rots and stinks up their apartment.
8) A shirt with ostrich feathers around the neck- Understand that while I am not always the most stylish person, I am always better at picking out clothes than any of the men I've dated. Rule of thumb for the men in my life: if you think I might like a certain article of clothing, you are probably wrong.
7) A shirt that looks like something a hooker in Eastern Europe would wear- Let's discuss the rule for clothing again: if you think it is something I might like, you are probably wrong.
6) A self-portrait- there is only one face I would enjoy commemorated in a painting, and that is my own. But really, don't give me a portrait of myself either. The worst part about the self-portrait I got wasn't that it was a bad idea, or that it was poorly painted. No, the worst part was the fact it was given to me three weeks after Christmas and since my birthday falls during that time, I somehow did not get a birthday present.
5) A moderately-priced dinner- On my birthday, you are obligated to take me to an expensive dinner. There is no way around this. This is not my gift for my birthday. This is in addition to my gift, which for the record, I would not like to receive while in the restaurant. You should give it to me before we go out because, if you are worth the two hours I must waste going to dinner with you, then your gift is David Yurman that I can wear out to dinner.
4) A shirt from Hot Topic- WHY?
3) Tacky jewelry which exceeds the size of a quarter, and is probably worth even less- If you bought it at the airport in the "Celebrate Colorado" store, then it probably is not something I want. Thanks.
2) A stuffed koala bear with a red plant coming out of its ass- This needs no explanation.
1) Nothing- The best surprise is no surprise? Yeah, maybe if you're talking about getting tested for the hiv. When it pertains to a gift for me though, it had better be something.
There it is. I do not expect to get anything on this list ever again. If I do, there will be hell to pay.
Yes, I realize this is bitchy, but so is giving me a self-portrait. Furthermore, if you want a girlfriend who is low maintenance, check out the trailer park.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
How was I supposed to know?
During the first month of my freshman year of college, a guy approached me at a bar and asked if I was in his psychology class. It ended up that I was. He then asked how I did on the last test and I told what my score was and his jaw dropped. I had gotten the highest grade in the class, and therefore had set the curve for everyone else. He had gotten a D-. He explained that there was just a lot that he didn't get. I asked if there was anything in particular that came to mind, and he said he didn't understand what "cognitive" meant. Oh boy. I apologized and told him if he ever needed any help, he could borrow my notes.
The next week in class, he asked if I wanted to get together to help him study. Not wanting to be a bitch, I agreed. We decided to meet later that week in front of the library.
When the time rolled around for our study date, I threw my text book and notes into my backpack and made my way to the library. He was already there (probably because I was 5 minutes late), and asked if I wanted to go grab something to eat first. It seemed reasonable since it was about 5 in the afternoon. So, I agreed, and we walked up the street to a local diner. We both got hamburgers, and paid for our own meals. As we walked back to campus, he suggested we go to his dorm instead of to the library. This should have sent up a red flag, but I just assumed that he didn't like the uncomfortable library chairs.
We got back to his room, and I sat down and started to pull out my books. He looked at me, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You actually brought your books?" he asked.
Apparently, he didn't really want to study, which I found ridiculous. Everyone else I tell this to laughs at me because, apparently "study" is a euphemism for "come over and screw." Damn, I wish that had been in my freshman handbook.
But, it isn't the whole studying facade that annoys me most about this; it's the fact that he was trying to get in my pants and didn't even pay for my dinner! Cheapskate.
The next week in class, he asked if I wanted to get together to help him study. Not wanting to be a bitch, I agreed. We decided to meet later that week in front of the library.
When the time rolled around for our study date, I threw my text book and notes into my backpack and made my way to the library. He was already there (probably because I was 5 minutes late), and asked if I wanted to go grab something to eat first. It seemed reasonable since it was about 5 in the afternoon. So, I agreed, and we walked up the street to a local diner. We both got hamburgers, and paid for our own meals. As we walked back to campus, he suggested we go to his dorm instead of to the library. This should have sent up a red flag, but I just assumed that he didn't like the uncomfortable library chairs.
We got back to his room, and I sat down and started to pull out my books. He looked at me, and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You actually brought your books?" he asked.
Apparently, he didn't really want to study, which I found ridiculous. Everyone else I tell this to laughs at me because, apparently "study" is a euphemism for "come over and screw." Damn, I wish that had been in my freshman handbook.
But, it isn't the whole studying facade that annoys me most about this; it's the fact that he was trying to get in my pants and didn't even pay for my dinner! Cheapskate.
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