What Not to Buy Your Girlfriend on Valentine's Day

So, I'm probably beating a dead horse by making another bad gift post. But, it's Valentine's Day, and bad gifts never fail to be hilarious. So, suck it up and pretend you haven't heard this one yet.

What I have recieved in the past:

Fred: The first Valentine's Day we were together, he gave me nothing. The big fucking goose egg. We had dated for 6 months, so I kind of expected something, but was left empty handed. I recieved flowers from 4 other people and he still didn't take the hint. I canned his ass shortly thereafter. We got back together and the next Valentine's Day we were together, he mailed me a care package from Walmart. Now, I love Walmart as much as the next person (ok, probably much much more than the next person), but V-Day is not the time to get me Walmart knick-knacks. A box of batteries, cans of soup and beef jerky hardly constitutes a romantic gift. And a big stuffed dog is hardly appropriate for someone who is not a child.

Shrek: Gave me a box of chocolates. But then he ate them. Seriously, he presented me with a half-eaten box of chocolates as a gift. And the only ones left were the ones he didn't want. Why even bother?

Fruit Fly: Gave me a vase that was covered by a stuffed koala...it's hard to explain, but basically, it looked like a red plant was coming out of the koala's ass. Also, he gave me a chocolate bar that fell on the floor at work and he therefore obtained for free.

Boris: Ok, this is actually really really sweet, but a little misguided. He decided to be very romantic for Valentine's Day and got me two dozen roses, a huge box of Godiva truffles, a big heart-shaped balloon and a card. Except, he did this at school (I was 16 at the time), so I spent the entire day lugging around my Valentine's Day bonanza (my locker was way too small for the balloon and roses). Also, I was (and still am) really shy, so I didn't exactly love all the attention these things brought me. I loved the gifts, but I would have preferred recieving them at home.

At this point, I am over the idea of Valentine's Day. This year, I am just hoping for a good dinner and a lot of alcohol.

Wash that man right out of my hair

In honor of Sanjaya getting kicked off American Idol last night, we figured we'd have an open forum on the hair sins of our many exes. If you want to discuss the hair sins of an ex, please feel free to contribute by emailing us your stories. Or post them in the comments. That works too.

PS I hated Sanjaya. His hair annoyed me.

CCG
I am pretty particular about hair. All hair, but since I don't date women, this post will only be about men's hair. I decided last night, while flipping through Cosmo and watching TV, that I only like men with low-maintenance hair. I don't like "chickenhead", I don't like men with long hair, I don't like men who use excessive products in their hair.

I pay $75 for a haircut. I use $25 shampoo and conditioner and designer straightening cream with my $150 flat iron. Let's not even talk about my highlights. But this is okay because my hair is gorgeous and I am a girl. I don't like girly men. A man should pay no more than $15 for a haircut. He should spend no more than 30 seconds doing his hair in the morning.

My preferred male hair look might just be bald. On the right body, a bald head is really hot (see also: Bruce Willis). It is also manly and I go for really masculine men. But if a man isn't going to go all the way, I like it as short and low-maintenance as possible (officer/gentleman has the best hair possible--he buzzes it at Ranger Joe's and then doesn't mess with it).

There hair sins of my exes are numerous: ponytails, bad coloring, excessive product use, waiting too long for a haircut. But generally speaking:

- No, your ponytail was not hot. Chicks did not dig you with long hair. I never knew you when you had a ponytail but judging from the fact that your hair is now sort greasy and corse, I seriously doubt the "I got out of the shower, put my wet hair in a ponytail that trailed down my back and got on my motorcycle" was a good look for you. Your hair probably had nasty trailer park split ends and was greasy-looking and made you look like you work at the sleazy motorcycle repair shop. You are a frickin' attorney and a very impressive one at that. You have a great job and make great money and look incredible in your Brooks Brothers suits. I thank God you realized that and cut your hair. I also thank God there are no pictures of the offending ponytail that I have to look at.

- No, I do not have any hair gel you may use. If we go on vacation, you are obligated to bring your own grooming products. I don't ask you for a tampon. Also, I don't even use hair gel! Look at my hair--is it sticky and tacky like yours? Then chances are good I do not use your nasty Xtreme Sport hair gel.

- No, your hair does not look good "highlighted" with a bottle of peroxide. It looks brassy, damaged, splotchy and orange. You are very attractive with dark hair--that is why I am dating you. Please don't change that without consulting me first. And NEVER take hair tips from your friend Joe.

- You need a hair cut. Don't even take the time to ask me, just go to supercuts. Chances are if you noticed today, I noticed around this time last week.

- You need to shave. See how red my face and cheeks are? I am not flushed with passion.

- And a final note on body hair. I go through great discomfort and expense to remove mine. You are a big fan of when I do this. The absolute least you can do is take your clippers to the three Bs. Or I know my spa does mens waxing too--I can make two appointments at once. Also, hair coming out of your nose and ears may be a fact of life but for heaven's sake TRIM IT! There is no way in hell I am going to make out with you when I am afraid the monster coming out of your nose is going to bite me in the face.

RGB
I have been fortunate in that no one I have dated actually had bleached hair while we were dating. I did however have a very close call. Shrek was from an area that was rather, um, what's the tactful way of saying "trashy," again? Oh, yeah, rural. Shrek was from a very rural area.

His senior year of high school (before I knew him -- we didn't meet until college), he decided, for some reason completely unknown to me, that he should bleach his hair. Shrek had naturally dark brown hair, so bleached-white was not exactly the best color on him. But nevertheless, he let his 9 year-old cousin do the honor of combing bleach through his hair over the bathtub.

She missed a few spots, but they "weren't noticeable." I really don't know if they were or not because, I did not know him at the time. However, I would imagine that dark brown spots in a white-blond head of hair are, in fact, rather noticeable. But, that's neither here nor there.

I guess the "ladies" of the area in which he grew-up have different taste in men than I do because, Shrek insisted that they totally threw themselves at him even more than usual for the time that his hair was bleached (I think this is a load of crap. Shrek was pretty delusional about his own attractiveness). He therefore rationalized that bleached hair looked good on him. I am grateful I did not know him at the time.

- Oh, and Ex 2 (Fruit Fly) had blue hair before I met him. He wanted to dye it again while we were dating. That got a big "hell no" from me.

- A note on the nose hair issue: please, for the love of all that is good, get some nose hair clippers. I hate when guys decide to take care of their nose hair with a full size pair of scissors -- that's some scary stuff!

- Don't use my shampoo. It was expensive.

- If your hairstyle requires gel, you have a women's haircut.

CMS

Now, I want to preface this by saying that I am pretty open to all kinds of hairstyles in guys, with the obvious exception of super-gelled oh-my-god-are-you-in-the-mafia type hair. I even have a certain affinity for kind of longish, shaggy hair—but not the emo look-at-me-I’m-so-alternative shaggy hair with the side-swept bangs and (probably) streaks of some color not normally found in nature. (Seriously, emo kids make me want to either rip my own eyes out or kidnap them and lock them in a room with puppies and kittens and butterflies while playing nothing but Jimmy Buffet until they suddenly develop the urge to join the cheerleading squad.) But anyway, the point of this is that it’s pretty difficult to have hair so bad that it makes me mad.

But that doesn’t mean that it’s not possible. One of my ex’s (the one who didn’t know how to order wine, if you remember him) had bad hair when we were actually dating. He always gelled it so it stood straight up a la Ryan Cabrera. He also had a weird hairline—it was really uneven and sort of squiggled across his forehead. I guess that wasn’t really his fault, but he managed to emphasize it with his stupid gelled hair. Anyway, his hair was bad back then, but not bad enough as to be a deal breaker.

However, I saw him a few months ago, and his hair has taken a turn for the worst. Apparently, he thought it was a good idea to dye his hair the same color as his skin. So now when he gels his hair straight up, you can’t tell where his forehead ends and his hair begins. His hair looks like an extension of his forehead—like the Elephant Man or something. Just trust me, its bad. To add to this, he has decided to try to grow a full beard, but his facial hair is really patchy so he has weird bald spots all through his beard. It looks like the beard a malnourished hobo would grow.

-As a final note, I’d like to say that I don’t have a problem with facial hair per se. On some people, it looks really good. But please, please, for the love of God and all that is holy, if your facial hair grows unevenly or not at all in some places, shave. Seriously, it’s a sign from God that you are not supposed to have facial hair. Just embrace your babyface and move on.

Why I didn't lose my virginity on prom night

There was an article in USA Today this morning about high school proms. Apparently, kids these days get proms with dinners, breakfasts, parades, cruises, comedy shows, etc. It makes me sick. My prom was nothing worth noting. It was at a mid-range hotel in Baltimore, we had no refreshments (not even cokes), and our only party favors were photo albums that cost about 50 cents a pop and a handful of hard candy.

The only thing truly memorable about my senior prom was my horrible date, Ex 2 (Fruit Fly). About a month or so before the event, we butted heads about his tux. He wanted to get something like the Dumb and Dumber get-up. I told him I didn't want to explain to my children 30 years from then that my date was, in fact, not actually retarded. After I had told him exactly what to get, I felt like maybe I was being a little bitchy, so I agreed to let him and the other guys control one aspect of the evening: the limo.

I figured there is no way someone can screw-up ordering a limo. I mean, it involves picking up the phone and giving an address. Boy was I wrong.

Fruit Fly was excited about his task, and wasted no time getting all the other guys in our group involved on it. I didn't really bother to ask questions about it because, I figured a limo is a limo. I was a little concerned when I realized it was getting close to prom and he had not actually made any phone calls. But , I figured I shouldn't nag about it. Even with two and half weeks to spare, I was sure he could find something decent. Finally, he told me that he had booked a limo and that he was really excited about it. I was really excited too, I thought for once he had managed to handle a menial task without disappointing me. It was a little late, but I figured a limo is a limo. It couldn't be too bad.

Then I saw it. I can't even begin to describe the shock and disgust I felt as the "hot-rod limo" came rolling around the corner to pick everyone up. "Hot-rod limo" is a huge overstatement. Had this name actually been an accurate description, I would have found it hilarious. This limo was a busted-ass dirty POS from the early 80s. It was gray with flames painted on the side and the driver was scruffy and drunk looking. His tux was totally wrinkled and he likely had not showered in a month. The interior of the car was dirty and ripped and none of the buttons in it worked. It was stinky inside and I thought I was going to get an STD just from sitting on the seat.

Fruit Fly had even gone up to the rental office and apparently looked at the car two weeks earlier. I couldn't imagine why he thought that this wasn't a POS. He even made a comment at one point that the car was pretty crappy. Well, duh! If you had just managed to do your fricking part and actually look at the stupid car while you were up at the office, this would not have been an issue.

The other girls in the group all glared at me wondering why in the hell I left this up to my boyfriend. I was thoroughly ashamed, but decided to make the most of the situation.

"Well, at least we'll be able to pick-out our limo in the parking lot. Right, guys? Right?"

Still, they were pissed at me.

We hopped in and about 5 minutes down the road, the driver stopped to go to the gas station. Weird. He stood outside and smoked 3 cigarettes and filled the car with gas. His smoke break made us 10 minutes late for our dinner reservations.

At the restaurant, we gave him the time to pick us up, and took his cell phone number so we could call if that changed. When we called him at the pre-arranged time, he said he'd be right there. A whole 15 minutes later, he finally came to pick us up. Loser.

When we arrived at the prom, he didn't feel like waiting in the line of cars to drop us off at the front door (probably a good thing anyway, I didn't exactly want to be seen in this POS) so he drove us around to the garage and we went in the back stairwell. Nice.

And as if the limo weren't enough, Fruit Fly was a turd all night, making me incredibly grouchy for having to deal with him. I don't think I talked to him from the time we had our pictures taken until it was time to leave.

In high school, people always made such a big fuss over prom. They would carry on about how they would remember it for the rest of their lives, so it had to be perfect. I couldn't even tell you what our prom song was, or who took whom as a date or who was on the prom court. The only thing that comes to mind when I think of my senior prom is how much Fruit Fly sucks at life.

I guess I should thank him for making an otherwise forgettable night memorable.

Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson

I heard from Fruit Fly, and he informed me that he had a date...with his friends' mom. His two friends are both girls, whose ages are 20 and 22. Fruit Fly is 21, so his date has a daughter older than he is. There is nothing I can say here that would add anything to this.

Seems I've Made the Right Decision

My last post inspired me to make a "Where are they now?" entry to tell all my good post-break-up stories.

Boris- Since we broke up, he went to college, graduated with a degree in mathematics and computer science, and is currently looking for a job. During his time in college, he was a very active member of a medieval battle club. Their annual event was to go to a "war" which was about two weeks long, in the woods somewhere. Geeks of all ages would unite to have mock battles all day. A girl there sent him a love note, requesting he meet her somewhere, but he blew her off.

Fruit Fly- Graduated high school, went to college, got a driver's license (still no car), and became a huge pot-head. Before going to college, he was sleeping with some gimpy girl who had the clap. He has spent his time at college sleeping with everything that walks (or hobbles) and has a vagina (or anywhere else to put it- I think he may have started going for men). He still has a million pictures he painted of me in his apartment, which made his most recent girlfriend jealous. She was also mad that he was still madly in love with another ex (not me) who lives a few states away. I want to meet the girl he is madly in love with, but she hates me, because my loserex called her my name in bed. Oops. Eric says she is beyond ugly. I can't say one way or the other though, since I have never seen a picture. I still find it hard to believe that he really loves this girl like he says he does. If he really did, he wouldn't be sleeping around with everyone else in the world.

Shrek- I think he said it better than I ever could. Check out the last entry if you don't believe me. One post break-up moment that sticks out for me is the online conversation we had about 6 weeks after the break-up. I guess when he found out I was dating someone else, he realized I had no intention of coming back to him. So, he sent me a bunch of IM's inquiring as to whether or not I had (or rather, accusing me of having) cheated on him with the guy I am currently dating. The conversation went something like this:

Fatass: Were you f*cking your neighbor before or after we broke up?
Me: Neither, thank you. I started dating my neighbor after we broke up, and my personal life no longer concerns you.
Fatass: I don't care who you're with, but it is my business whether or not I need to get tested for an STD.
Me: You know I never cheated on you, don't even try to pull that card. You're just being bitter.
Fatass: I heard you're talking shit about me.
Me: What did you hear?
Fatass: that you said I'm an asshole
Me: Well, you are.

It went on like that for a few minutes, then ended with him asking when he should bring some of my stuff over. I told him that I would send some people to pick it up from his dorm, since there was no way I was letting that ogre anywhere near my room.

Since this conversation, he went on to fail out of school, which was somehow my fault (awesome, I never knew I had so much power). If you want to know what happened to him after that, just read his livejournal, as it is just too ridiculous for me to even begin to explain.

See guys, I'm the best you'll ever have, and your pitiful lives will go to hell without me.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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!