A Shower with No Water.

So, I think that everyone on the planet knows how I feel about weddings, baby showers, bridal showers and anything that involves a bunch of giggling and/or mushy shit...so you might be surprised to know that I attended LBG's bridal shower over the weekend and did not puke. In fact, I didn't even WANT to puke. (This is HUGE for me!)

 

For starters, LBG and I have been friends since we were 12, so I obviously enjoy hanging out with her and we don't get much time to do that these days, so naturally, I couldn't NOT go.  Secondly, I got to see a bunch of people that I haven't seen in ages and carve a penis out of a cucumber! How can you not have fun while watching all of your friends create penis art? 

 

I wasn't sure what to expect when I was asked to bring 1) a broom, 2) a pair of underwear, and 3) nail polish remover. In fact, the only one of those items that was of any use, was my black lace thong...and that was only useful for a minute when LBG was guessing who belonged to which underwear and insisting that mine was belonged to Jess. 

 

Normally, any party involving that many chicks and no boys is not my cup of tea, but in all fairness, there were two boys there, they just happened to be gay boys. So...they counted. Sort of.  Either way, we got to wrap LBG up in a dress made up entirely of toilet paper (to which she says to me, "This probably isn't even the first time you have done this to me"...because, lets be honest...Just because I don't remember wrapping my best friend in toilet paper, doesn't mean it hasn't happened.) Jess and I took home a lot of prizes because of her penis carving skills along with her mastery of other bridal shower games.  (These games are strange, internet. At one point, I was standing in a front yard in the middle of the afternoon with pantyhose tied around my waist with limes in the foot part, swinging them around trying to knock stuff over...Yes. This was the object of the game. I was not just doing that because I felt like it.)

 

I am super glad, though, that I did not get pulled over on the way home because the array of weird shit I had on my person and in my car, would have surely caused questions.

 

Ahem...

1. The thong in my purse.

2. Queso dip.

3. A broom.

4. Two sandwiches.

5. Something called "Orgasmic Teardrop". (You will have to use your imagination for this because, well...I don't really want to get into it with you, internet, we are not that kind of friends.)*

6. A teapot. (and tea)

7. An air freshener.

8. A candle.

9. Nail polish remover and cotton balls.

10. Banana Now and Laters.

 

When I got home and emptied the contents of my purse and bag out onto the table, I thought Spliff was going to fall down. (Mostly because of the Orgasmic Teardrop...but...you know...) That is how you know that you have had a successful day. Right there.

 

*I don't carry it around in my purse, okay....it was a PRIZE, you perverts.

 

Why getting rest is important...

This, internet, is an example of why you should avoid staying out too late and then attempting to get up, pack your lunch and purse with things that you need, and then go to work...

 

The contents of my purse:

1. A business card for "Hooker Fences" (No lie, the name of the company, someone gave me the card. I need a hooker fence. Not sure whether to keep the hookers in or out.

2. Mirror

3. Two spoons. (Yes, I have spoons in my purse. You never know when you will need to eat jello. Or cook heroin.)

4. 7 tubes of lip gloss.

5. 450 tampons. (I am evidently planning to be away from home for a very long while.)

And another post altogether!

I know, I know...TWO in ONE DAY! Crazy talk!

I am soooo not a morning person. And I am definitely not a Monday person either. (I am more of a Saturday night kind of girl.) So naturally, I am a bit pissed when the alarm started yelling at me to get my arse out of bed. But I begrudgingly did and as Spliff and I were walking out the door, I announced that today would be a Dunkin' Donuts day. We never go there...because I am not a terribly big fan, but I couldn't handle not having breakfast and didn't want to spend 10 bucks on a drink and a tiny breakfast sandwich from Starbucks...even though they are totally FIRE! Anyway, so we get there, and pull up to the speaker and the conversation goes, as follows:

Guy: (A little too enthusiastically for a Monday morning) GOOD MORNING! What can I get for you?

Me: Ummm...coffee, sandwich, sandwich, blah...

Guy: Will that complete your order?

Me: Yes.

Guy: And then?

Me: Ummmmm...(giggle) No? And then?

Guy: (long pause) AND THHHHHHHEN?! (snicker, snicker)

Me: (REALLY long pause...) NO AND THEN!!!!

Guy(s): (They had multiplied and they were laughing into the intercom like crazy people.)

At this point, I just drove to the window, Spliff and I both crying our newly applied mascara all over our faces. When we got to the window, there were three guys standing there cracking up and offering us a job...

That, my friends, was the best Monday morning, fast food experience I have ever had. Ever. Well done, Dunkin Donuts. Well done.

Open Letter to The Annoying Bitch at my Office

Dear Captain Speaks when not Spoken to:

I am sort of a wordy bitch, so I understand having something to say about most things. The thing is, oh annoying one, I try to avoid jumping into conversations that people are having across the office. I avoid this for several reasons 1) if they are that far away, they are probably not talking to me, 2) if they wanted to talk to me, they might try something like...addressing me directly, and 3) I do not assume that everyone gives a shit what I have to say. I know, I know, that might seem a little unreasonable, seeing as you seem to think that EVERYONE is ALWAYS talking directly to YOU. But I assure you, we are not. In fact, when I lower my voice and am looking directly at someone while speaking, I am usually just talking to THEM. So your incessant, "What? What? What?" gets a little, you know...wearing. I am not asking that you stop speaking altogether, (however, I am a firm believer that this might make the office a much more bearable place) I a mearly suggesting that you might...you know...BUTT THE FUCK OUT. Keep in mind that this is only a suggestion, but it may save you from getting your teeth knocked out before 9am on a Monday morning. I'm just saying...

I would also like to point out that when engaging in a conversation that people are TRYING to have with you, gradually raising your voice until you are the only one that anyone can hear is really fucking rude. And again, annoying. I don't know if this is something that you can help. I don't even know if you are aware that other people are talking. Or if you have some sort of disorder (if this is the case, a tiny amount of leniency is totally granted). But you should wear a sign or something. It should say, "I am the most annoying conversationalist in the UNIVERSE. Prepare to be infuriated."

Well, I think that about sums everything up. Thank you...and SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Sincerely,
The Criz

Lessons Learned (or not...)

Well, internet, I have managed this week to avoid sleeping almost completely.  I can't remember the last time I fell asleep before midnight. I think it was sometime in the mid-nineties. At least, that is what it feels like.

 

Between JGJ's visit, being abducted by Mak, Spliff's birthday and what are turning into really, really long conversations with my old high school crush (who I have decided to name V-Dub because he had a VW Beetle when we were in high school and I loved that car), I have been averaging 4-5 hours of sleep per night. If I am lucky. I've been having a lot of fun. I just wake up to find that there is literally not enough coffee in the entire state to wake me up.  (I have been considering mainlining.)

 

Yesterday was Spliff's 29th birthday so we got the gang together and headed out to dinner at Taco Lu.  (Margaritas, YAY!) I did the obligatory, buying of the birthday shot of Patron and Spliff did the obligatory, wincing routine after taking it like a champ.  And then there were vodka drinks. And then there were more vodka drinks. And then there was this shot that might have been Robitussin.  It was some sort of clear, grapey weirdness that nearly killed us. And then, you know, for good measure, we got beer and went home where Spliff devoured a bag of potato chips and left a trail all the way down the hallway and I, of course, stayed up until 3am drinking beer and talking to V-Dub.  (I think that name fits quite nicely.) Stupid, stupid, stupid.  I just don't learn.

 

So, this morning, I woke up to  the tragic realization that I had forgotten to set the timer on the coffee pot so it sat there. Empty and sad. But next to my empty coffee pot was a note from Spliff which read:  "Stal, I think I noshed on your orange chips last night. I hate myself."  This is funny for several reasons. First, the fact that she "thought" she noshed on the "orange chips" was funny but the funnier part was that the trail of chips in the hallway? A totally different kind from a totally different bag, which are now completely gone. That, my friends, is what we call the "drunchies".

 

Right now, Spliff, Han and I are sitting in the office hating ourselves. One of us from lack of sleep (me), one from the hangover from hell (Spliff) and one from the embarassment of a drunk dial (Han).  In fact, I just got an email with the subject "machine gun" and in the subject, just one word.  "Face".

 

We are having a lovely day, internet. I sort of want to die.

State of Love and Trust

Being single is becoming confusing.

 

I had a conversation with Pookie the other day that really hit home with me. She was saying how she has never been able to commit to anything (this is not entirely true, she was able at one time...but that time has long since passed...) and how she is sort of...content being that way. Pookie has always been the one of the two of us who has believed in love. She was ever the optimist.  She always did whatever was in her power to make a relationship work. And I, on the other hand, bail the second that things get tough.

 

I have always been the ultimate cynic. I could attribute this to any number of factors in my life. You know, the fact that my parents hate each other, the fact that my mom is sort of lacking a backbone and I don't want to be like her (EVER), the fact that (duh) all of my past relationships have failed...I could go on but it wouldn't matter. The fact is, I am a pussy.

 

Yes, it is very true that I never want to become complacent and bored like my mom, but it is also true that I have had some very successful relationships and have ended them (or made someone miserable enough to do the deed for me) because I have been scared.  I am "that guy". Seriously, I am the dude (because it is always a dude) who plays the non-committal jackass in all of the chick flicks. This is not a shock to me, nor was it a shock to Pookie, but then, this wasn't the revelation that came while I was sitting on the beach, soaking up the Summer sun.

 

While we were talking, I realized that I have been running for so long that I have sort of...forgotten what I am running from, if that makes sense.  I started thinking about some of the events of the last few months and what they are trying to tell me. One, I realized that there was one reason that I was able to stay with The Kid for so long. The fact is, I knew from day one that it wasn't going to go anywhere. Therefore? Nothing to be scared of. Nothing to run away from.

 

Two, I realized that I am tired of running. In fact, I am so exhausted from it that I can't see straight. I want to stop being scared of being a person with feelings and I want to stop sabatoging my relationships. Mostly though, I want an equal. A partner. Someone who knows me.  I don't think that this is unreasonable and I don't think that it is impossible but I have never actually considered that this was an option for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, internet, I have had some amazing boyfriends but you can ask any one of them if I was ever completely ready to "settle down". Because they will tell you, I almost always had one foot out the door.

 

So Pookie has become this cynical girl who has decided just to float about in the dating pool and not really ever get attached. And I can't help but think how depressing all of that sounds to me now. I don't want to float anymore. For once, I actually want to find someone to love and to trust and to just...BE with. I am so insanely BORED and unhappy with the state of affairs right now, I could literally scream.  I am almost thirty, internet!  I need to grow the fuck UP and stop dating the wrong guys because I know they can't hurt me and stop fucking up my relationships with the right ones because I am a moron. Also, I guess this means I have to stop making out with my "friend" now. He probably isn't helping my situation. Crap.

Dammit, this grown up shit is hard.

 

 

Soul Refreshing

Great news, guys! I have just been given the "Worst Blogger Ever" award and I accepted and made a speech. It went like this:

 

"I would like to thank..."(and then I saw something shiny and the speech was over. You know, I give speeches, much like I blog.)

 

Anyway, there really hasn't been much to report. I have been enjoying the single life once again, which is really much like living the un-single life for me, except I am free to make plans with WHO I want...WHEN I want and not have to remember that I told my boyfriend that MAYBE I would want to hang out on Friday and then hope that I don't decide that maybe has turned into "eh...no." (Huge relief!)  That was never a fun argument to have. (And I had it a LOT, because I never know what I want to do until I want to do it.)

 

But, things have been fun. I've had a lot of time to hang out with "my peeps" and play games such as "Wii bowling for shots of Captain" (which is sort of like trying to kill yourself but a lot more fun, really. But when you wake up in the morning, you will realize that being dead would be much less painful) and "Apples to Apples : Fermented Edition" (wherin the winner of every round takes a shot of beer and I think I have expressed to you that while, a shot of beer SEEMS like a harmless little thing...Many, many of them add up to equal disaster, or you know, lots of unexplained bruises and, if you are really lucky, a REALLY awkward conversation).

 

All in all, awkward conversations and bruises aside, it has been a good time for all.

 

I have even managed to regain contact with an old friend from high school (who is not getting a nickname here yet because he has the same initials as everyone I have ever met and I am running out of things to call people) who has kept me up pretty much every night for a week on the phone so that I get up in the morning cursing him.  (I don't wanna hear it from YOU!) I have to admit, staying on the phone until 2 am is really fun, until about 7 am...and then the alarm scares the bejesus out of me and I end up not remembering the drive to work. But I do sort of feel like I am in high school again...you know, without the excessive pot smoking and whatnot. 

 

 

Today is not the greatest.

Today was the kind of day where you wake up and you think about immediately sticking your head in an oven. There was back pain, there was utter and complete sorrow, there was stress, and there was idiocy. And then there was drinking. Don't worry. I poured one out for my homie.

I love you, Matt. RIP.

Okay...so...

I guess I should finish the story I started. I am bad about that.

Anyway, the honest truth is, that after the pool things became an utter and complete clusterfuck. Yes, we went out. Where? I have no idea. I vaguely recall a bar with a bowling alley in it. And some sort of banana concoction. And Anthony doing a "stop light" (and, seriously kiddies, don't try this at home...it will not end well...). And some dancing to Guns N' Roses. And then possibly some more Jaeger. I don't know. But I DO know that we all got to make out with someone random and that, my friends is always fun.

Anthony, however, while Mak and I were passed out in the room, was having some poolside fun with my identical name twin. When he wanted to stay at the pool by himself at 4am, I was hesitant to let him, seeing as he never learned to swim. But after going to check on him and realizing that he was...well...indisposed...I extended his curfew to 8am. Which is when he came stumbling back to the room, girl in tow, both of them yelling about eggs and cheese (don't ask, I have no idea). I don't like being awake at 8am, especially involuntarily. MOST especially when some girl from New Jersey is trying to talk about Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers to me when I am clearly SNORING. "SHHHHH. Sleepy time is NOW." (Read: SHUTTHEFUCKUP!!!!)

That morning started out with a hustle to get ready to check out and then watching the girl do the "walk of shame" out to the car while we screamed out the window and ended in breakfast with the Fish Head and her fiance. (Which, by the way, included a "BLOODY MARY BAR"...Holy crap. Best idea EVER.) Anthony couldn't eat (this never happens) and ended up sleeping in the car while we ate and drank and made fun of him for being a wuss.


But all in all, it was a good trip. And I like boys. That is all.