Twitter Hijacked!

Hey folks,

Our Twitter account was hijacked by some Arizona "COP" who is old and heinous looking. We hope he croaks.

RGB and BJA.

Update: We got back in. We deleted him. Stay tuned for a new twitter!

Update: New Twitter is up and running. Sidebar now has the correct address.

Requiem for My Love Life

Fred decided one day that he wanted to watch "Requiem for a Dream." Since no one owned this movie on DVD (it is far too depressing for most people to want to watch more than once), he decided to go rent it from the local Blockbuster. This was located next door to the Circle K, where he went every single day to buy cigarettes, so it seemed like it would be easy to take it back after two days (this was before the whole 'no late fee' thing).

Well, I suppose taking the movie back managed to slip his mind every day for two months. Until one day when I was in his apartment and one of his roommates commented that the movie had been sitting there forever. Another roommate said that Fred didn't really care about bringing it back because it was on RGB's account. Fred laughed at this. The part that pissed me off was the fact that I know he had probably said this to his roommates earlier. He really thought it would be quite funny to stick me with an outrageous bill for his laziness.

But, I was the one who would get the last laugh.

"I don't have a Blockbuster account." I casually said. "So, it must have been on Fred's."

At that point, Fred screamed a word I will not put on here and immediately ran out to take the DVD back.

Funny how it was a game to not take it back when it meant sticking me with the bill. But as soon as it involved him, he was out the door before even bothering to put on clothes he didn't sleep in.

A week later, his parents called regarding the bill and I got to hear him lie to them by saying he returned that movie the day after he got it and it must be a mistake on their end.

Well, I've Never Been to Spain...

...But I have had creepy older men hit on me.

When I was 18 and living in New Orleans, I was walking out of a movie theatre downtown with some girlfriends to find a cab. A drunk man who was old enough to be my father comes running across the street to our group.

He approaches me and in slurred speech asks "Hey, did you hear about the amateur strip contest at [redacted]?"

Not sure what to make of it, I responded honestly that, no, I had not heard about such an event.

"Well, you should have gone! You would have won for sure!"

Aside from the obvious old man creep factor, I should also mention that I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops. Hardly anything even remotely sexy. Especially considering that there were countless other women dressed in much sexier clothing around me.

He then proceeded to try to entice me to enter the next contest, telling me that there was a big cash prize for the winner. He was apparently oblivious to the fact that I was not comfortable having this conversation and was frantically trying to hail a cab to get away from him.

Weirdo.

But, in all honesty, there's no way in hell I would ever win a stripping contest. I am way too clumsy. Me getting on a stripper pole would end with a trip to the emergency room.

You Make Me Sick

Social norms across countries are randomly different (nothing new there), occasionally surprising (which can be fun), and far-too-often down-right disgusting. There are just some things that I've experienced in other countries that were beyond my normal acceptance of social differences, and crossed the line into - you're still disgusting in my book.

Madrid, Spain.

On a trip to Spain last year, my family and I stopped in Madrid. As I was also in the midst of the leasing process on a new apartment, I made frequent trips to a local computer cafe to take care of my business at home.


I've accepted that there are men and women out there who get their jollies from exploring illicit sites on the internet. I'd even partly prepared myself to experience such a thing while I was abroad. However, I was utterly floored to find that, even in Spain, this was considered "ok" enough to be used as a flirtation method.


I went into the cafe, ready to send another nasty email to the landlords who were being a$$s about the whole moving ordeal, when I noticed the 30ish year old man next to me was looking at porn. I quickly averted my eyes and continued working. But the man kept smiling at me! When he said something in Spanish, I could only grasp but a few words - enough to know he was calling me pretty and something about pictures. Maybe you'll come to the same conclusion as me, but all I could think of was... disgusting.

I mean really. Who sees a girl in a random cafe and thinks to themselves... well I'm looking at porn maybe she's into it. I don't care where you live or what language you speak, there's a line there! We weren't in the red light district, I was not dressed provacatively, and I certainly wasn't trying to get his attention.

Perhaps this guy isn't quite a "loser-ex" by our standard definiton, but it only appears that way since I refused to pose and/or go with him anywhere anyway. Had I done so, I have no doubt that he would have ended up on this blog. Fortunately, I have class.

Ladies, don't lower yourself to date a man who would ask you to pose for porn. Especially if he doesn't speak your language and is doing so in a public cafe, proudly "showing" why he wants you to do so.

Fred's Dirty Laundry

In college, one thing that annoyed me was when people using the laundry rooms would not promptly remove their clothes from the machines after the cycles. Now, I understand being a few minutes late, but several hours? Come on. Often, I would see laundry sit in machines, finished, for the entire time it took my clothes to be washed, dried and folded. This was especially annoying when there was a shortage of machines.

The Resident Director of my dorm junior year apparently felt my pain on the matter and plastered signs all over the laundry room threatening to donate unattended clothes to charity. Overkill? Probably. Passive-aggressive? Definitely. But, I understood her underlying concern.

Well, Fred did not. He was one of those loath-able laundry leavers. And not just the extra hour variety. He was, by far, the worst laundry leaver I have ever encountered. Frequently, he would put his clothes in the washing machine, go to class for a few hours, move them to the dryer, go out drinking, and then take them out of the laundry room the next morning. And this was when he was on top of the laundry situation. Usually, this process would take much longer. Laundry time was frequently a multi-day event for Fred. This was particularly disturbing considering he did not even start the laundry process until he had been forced to go commando for at least 4 days.

Well, after one particularly long laundry run (five days, to be exact), he returned to the laundry room to find his clothes, and the suitcase in which he brought them to the laundry room, gone. Apparently at some point during those five days, the Resident Director had made good on her promise.

This particular batch of clothes included such gems as: the pink parachute pants, the yellow button down tie-dye shirt, and a plethora of Hawaiian shirts.

Needless to say, I was not sorry for his loss.

Kissin' You Off

When I was in high school, I was shy and not particularly "lucky" in love. I had never kissed a boy. I know! Some girls were all over it in middle school. Not me, I didn't even get my first kiss until my 16th birthday party.

There are two stories here, with two entirely different goals by melding them into one post, besides the fact they took place over the same event.

1. Boys are dumb in high school, and they make things up to match the "reality" of what they envision their lives to be.

2. Boys are cruel in high school, not realizing the implications of their actions, nor how easily they'll become as targets of catty-fun blogs like this in the future of the girls they cross.

So here we go. We'll call these two gentleman Meathead Dumb and Meathead Mean.

Both Meatheads, along with some of their friends and a few other high school hot shots, were invited to my 16th birthday party. Sad as it was, I had it at my place with my parents chaperoning. I realize now what a mistake that was, but honestly the rents were pretty cool with the whole thing. They even splurged for the margarita mix - sans tequila unfortunately.

That didn't stop Meathead Dumb, though. Most teenagers, even with the most juvenile and naive of brains, realize that margaritas mix must have tequila added to reach any sort of alcoholic content. MD decided, in his infinite high school wisdom, to chug the entire bottle of the mix - again, sans alcohol. Yet, he must not have known this, as he yelled at the top of his lungs to the entire party, "I'M WASTEDDDDDD!"

Umm, no MD. You're not. There's no alcohol in that. I wish I could tell you otherwise because I'd have been launched to high school stardom right then, but there's not and I never did.

So, moment to laugh at the idiocy that we women had to choose from in high school. You know you had at least one of these dimwits. Don't lie.

Meanwhile, Meathead Mean decided we should all play truth or dare. This was high school - so yes, of course I thought this was a brilliant idea. Up until I chose truth. MM asked me how far I had gone with a guy. To my own credit, I was honest. To my discredit, I was dumb enough to ask if hugging or holding hands was farther. (I was so naive in high school, I really was. I won't even pretend I was remotely cool.)

Later, MM took me aside on my trampoline out back under the stars... I'll let you awww at the effect that had on my cute little birthday-lovin self. MM said, "So... you've really never even kissed a guy?" I blushed and I think I left it at that. Like I wanted to admit that again! So MM decided to give me a birthday present, and he kissed me. My first kiss!

Yet, there's a reason MM is called mean. Monday at school, MM denied having even attended my party, let alone kissing me. My friends apparently had a pretty big mouth about what had happened that night. But the thing that made me really angry was the denial. I'd be less offended if he just said he got drunk and made out with someone he shouldn't have.

(Note: I've made myself sound somehow unfortunate looking - I'm not. I'm not super hot, but I'm reasonably attractive - I avoided the ugly stick and the awkward stick. However, I was incredibly unpopular in high school. And it doesn't matter how attractive or unattractive you were at my school since we had access to plastic surgery - you didn't get anywhere if you didn't put out or weren't one of the cliquie "cool" kids.)

After all of this, during our senior year when I had finally come into my own and figured out what I wanted, and didn't want - when I was dating someone steadily (albeit String Bean, who will continue to be the butt of the majority of my posts and jokes ) - MM asks me to come to his graduation party. This is after he and a few of his friends had bad mouthed me throughout high school.

I promptly told him, "why would I want to go to a party of yours? Mine never happened, right?"

Hell yeah I brought it back from two years prior. That's what you DO in high school. I had figured out what a fair-weathered friend was, and who to trust and not to trust. Living up to who was "popular" and who wasn't, was not my thing.

Who denies getting some in high school? Seriously? Call it vindictive or call it vengeance - either way, Meathead had it coming!

These Boots Were Made For ... Something

I love shoes. My closet has 4 racks of them overflowing and I still think I need more. Naturally, I do not expect the men I date to understand or share my love of footwear. I would probably be freaked out if I ever met a guy whose shoe collection rivaled my own. But, I do expect them to have the basics. This includes sneakers, flip-flops, loafers, and most importantly, some shoes to wear to work (one pair in black, one in brown).

I am not picky about what one's work shoes are. As long as they are dress shoes. And that is a very large range. While there are particular styles I do not care for (buckles on shoes remind me of pilgrims), I am willing to overlook personal tastes as long as the shoes are work appropriate.

Well, apparently Fred missed the memo of appropriate work footwear. He insisted on wearing the same inappropriate footwear every time he wore his slacks: a pair of ten-year-old Dr. Martin boots. I will give this a second to sink in.

They weren't like the 18 eye black boots that you're probably thinking. Nope, they were the dorky little brother of those. They looked like hiking boots, which was a little weird because Fred never really did anything that involved exerting even the slightest amount of energy.

He wore these stupid-ass boots to work with his slacks every day. Winter, summer, rain, snow, whatever, these boots were on his feet. I am honestly fascinated that no one ever told him his shoes were not appropriate.

Well, time went by, and I had forgotten about these boots. The rare times I did think of them, I assumed that he was young and stupid and had since picked up on social norms and ditched the boots for a pair of dress shoes to wear to the office.

Then I saw him. Still wearing the same fucking wrinkled slacks, button down short sleeved shirt and the boots. Those stupid boots. Jesus, if his current girlfriend has even an iota of good taste, she will take those things and burn them.

But, I don't think that's likely.