Like with everything else I do, a day late and a dollar short.

Clearly boys are on my mind. My posts have mostly been about men.

But let's be honest what single twenty four year old isn't constantly thinking about them? Whether it's about the co worker who is too cute to be as effing obnoxious as he is. ( I seriously want to take a spoon to his eyeballs, and that's on a good day)

Or about the guy who I told not to call me pet names, so he now texts me with endearing titles like " hey ass face" and it makes me giggle. He is also convinced he can win over my father and any man who is up for that task is okay by me. (and I have painted my father in the most accurate light that I can, we will just see if he can handle me long enough to get to the meeting my pops stage.)

Or how about the guy who I cannot figure out what I feel about him because he is hilarious but he likes to just flake out on his responsibilities and go drinking instead.

What about the guy that makes my heart melt and I feel more comfortable with him than any other guy I know. Oh wait I forgot I am banning myself from thinking about him. It's like he has a radar when he knows I'm thinking about him and immediately pounces on my weak brain and sends me saucy messages that are the perfect start to my night. But the perfect ending to those nights would be spent with him, and that never happens. Especially while he's got a GF which is usually the case over the last 6 years.

Ughh, this post was not supposed to be all about boys.


I want to say Happy Birthday to America! I know I am days late on this one but I was too busy wrapping myself up in an American flag cheering at exploding lights in the sky and throwing back Natty Boh's like a good little American girl to worry about the blogging part of America that needed a birthday wish.

I also wanted to put into words my sincere sadness about the passing of our one and only King of Pop.
I think I am a little more sad that most people my age but I have yet to get in touch with just how depressing this really is.

Don't judge me!

MJ meant a lot to me, and this world and I don't want to hear about people bitching about his Rolls Royce and Range Rover motorcade. Hello, have you heard of this guy? Been entertaining us for effing decades people. DECADES! Not one person can tell me they didn't enjoy at least one of his songs. Before his passing, earlier this summer I was at the beach house and heard the neighbor kids playing the Free Willy soundtrack at about 2 am and I ran over there and made them put it on repeat for about 20 minutes.

It was a glorious 20 minutes.

I wouldn't even turn on his memorial service yesterday because I was convinced I might shed a tear. After I saw a clip of his gorgeous little girl Paris get up there and speak I am convinced I would have been a bumbling idiot. So for now I've got my Pandora radio station devoted to just MJ songs. Loves it.

Also Steve McNair, like a classic NFL asshole was cheating on his wife. But any former Raven that leaves this earth is a sad day for me.

So guess what my genius idea for Halloween is..

I was totally gonna be the Lady Gaga, but now I am going to get a crew and be This Year's Dead Celebrities.

I could take it two places, dress up like them, as corpses. Which would fit in my usual desire for grim and gore and guts on my favorite holiday.

OR

I thought about dressing up like these celebrities in their hey day. Paying homage to them. Like Farrah in that memorable red bathing suit.

Either way will be cool.

OH but wouldn't it be funny to dress like a pack of dead celebrities lead by MJ and we can all do the Thriller dance! Oh I wish I had cool enough friends who would pull that off with me!


...stay tuned
(I'm sure there will be more boys to add to the mix soon, like the chef who is too scared of women right now but I will make him get over it and cook me a fabulous date!)

Little Spoon

I am five feet tall. The decibel levels my voice can reach are deceiving because I am indeed a little girl.

So tell me how it is possible that I find all the men in the world that want to be the little spoon?

What the shit is this? I dated the firefighter and besides the fact that for the longest time he didn't know what "spooning" was, once he learned he was adamant that I should be the one wrapping my arms around him and snuggling his back into my chest.

Oh come on!

I know I am an overbearing loud obnoxious brute woman who will try to kick your ass. But what I really want is someone who knows that its all just a game and to show me how quickly they can make me feel like a tiny little girl again. By roughing me around and proving just how little my punches actually hurt. That's fine.

Or how about pulling me in close and making me feel so small tucked into your big man body. Sheesh. Is that so much to ask?

So this weekend when my guy BFF and I decided to lay next to each other, I pulled his arms around me and the immediate question was "what makes you think you get to be the little spoon?" Uhhhhhhhh (insert shrill shriek here) And as we rolled away from each other to lay on separate sides of the bed, I laughed.

How is it possible that I always find the ones who actually want to be the little spoon? On occasion is fine. I am all about balance. Giving and taking. So I would never dream of always being the little spoon but for pete's sake can we just go by the general rule of:

Big man= Big Spoon
Little woman= little spoon.
I mean for real.


...stay tuned.

Classic GF

If I had a boyfriend right now I would be creeping him out royally.

Haha that statement just makes me effing laugh. I am such a flipping disaster. I am currently "talking" to a couple of guys. When it rains ir pours. And when I am in a drought holy shit it's like they all get a memo to stay the eff away from me.

The memo may or may not go a little something like this:

Date: From now until the foreseeable future.
Attn: All men over the age of 28 and under the age of 35(okay 40);

It has come to our attention that you may be interested in a particular young lady who is tons of fun.She is short and hates being called "cute". She is also extremely loud.She even laughs loud, it's called a cackle. She also laughs all the time and smiles even more often. She has one volume, she's endearingly named the volume level as "fuckingloudasshit" and no off button. She has a gigantic heart and just wants to love the whole world but for some reason she makes sure that you don't know this right away. She has no problem using the c word (insert apology to her mother!) and she will make sure you know that you are not as awesome as you might think. She probably wants to fight you but be careful she can hold her own. She has no problem being smacked around a bit as long as she gets to hit you too. She claims her four brothers are the reason she is so violent. She also makes sure you know that along with her brothers she has a father that wants to kill pretty much anyone that goes near her. She will readily admit to bringing new guys around her family just to see them get eaten alive. She can clean up well and loves to wear dresses just to see mouths fall on the floor. She can sing and dance but you will probably never see much more than a few dance moves.
The point of this memo is to forewarn you all. Please do not approach this dangerous animal while we are conducting further studies on how to calm her the eff down. Also please do not feed her. She has Celiac disease and the glutenous foods may set her off! We would appreciate it if you would use extreme caution if you are going to disregard this memo and get in contact with the creature.

Thank you for your time. And do not call us if you have bruises whether they be physical or to your ego. We claim no responsibility for lost of stolen items,like your sanity.

Regards,
Management.

And then one daring young (read: old) man tries his hand at handling the shit storm that is dating me, or merely putting up with me for more than one interaction. And once one guy starts this trend it's as if that memo is redacted and they all come running.

So for now I've got a couple of messages from guys I gave my number to and didn't answer when they called.

(I'm an ass, I know, but I NEVER answer the phone if I don't know who it is, can you tell I have bad credit issues hahaha)

The funny part about not having a boyfriend right now is that I am absolutely sure I would be freaking this guy out. My best friend has a newborn baby and I am obsessed with her. I love this child and it is not mine. All I want to do is be near this little baby girl and hold her. I am fairly confident that with boyfriend in tow I would be talking about this baby just enough to freak him out. Now the other bestie and I are a ways away from the thought of having kids right now.

However if I think about my own mother if I was on her path I would be married, with a 2 year old and a newborn as well. Ah!
Of course she was just years away from a divorce as well but that is besides the point. The point is, I want a kid. I mean. I don't want kids.


Okay, clearly I am confused because I know I was born to be a mother. I will be the most fantastic mother on this planet. I want 6-18 kids. Hahah, no for real I want as many as I can afford. And hopefully a husband who can handle that. Haha but it's all the crazy girls who get boyfriends so maybe I will let all these guys who are chasing me right now into my little idiosyncrasies and maybe one of them will fall in love with me.


..stay tuned.

p.s. I apologize for all the haha's in this post but I honestly wrote this while laughing. It is so freaking true it's scary.

Silly Yak

I'm no fan of WebMD and my brother likes to tell me I am crazy. But I think I'm onto something here!

I have self diagnosed myself with Celiac Disease. So yes, it might be possible that I do not in fact have this ailment and that I am making it all up. But the whole Gluten free diet has been a freaking God send to my stomach and its previous issues. Without getting all sciency and stuff Celiac disease is an intolerance to gluten. It basically produces auto antibodies that destroy parts of my stomach called villi. Once destroyed they can no longer absorb the nutrients that everyone else can. And thus, pain is involved in the process.

I dealt with stomach pain for years and years. I thought I was lactose intolerant, which would be highly unlikely for someone who literally drinks milk every single day since I was born. I freaking love milk. And Cal Ripken is a liar. I'm from Baltimore so he is usually my go to man. Except growing up he was all about those milk ads. So i drank and I drank. I'm flipping 5 feet tall CAL! What the hell. I didn't grow big and strong because of all that lovely Calcium. Jerk. (okay so I've never broken a bone, and genetics might have something to do with my height, so maybe you do have something. Whatever you're still my hero, Billy Ripken!)

Moving on, I have been trying to keep a food diary (not consistently because well, I can't do anything consistently, except be loud of course.) for about 2 years. I never really noticed a trend in what triggered the pain and discomfort after eating. I knew yogurt was one of them, and my BFF explained to me that that was weird. Because people with digestion issues often are helped by the live cultures in yogurt. So I pretty much thought I was crazy at this point. I just knew that I was going to be in pain and sometimes not have any desire to eat another meal for hours upon hours after something set me off.

Very quietly I would deal with the pain, except when someone would listen to my complaints. I mean I am a woman, we will talk if someone will listen. My firefighter ex used to try to help me figure out exactly where the pain was. It was quite nice to actually have someone helping me because I was usually met with, "go to the doctor" "you probably just have gas" "eat more fiber" "welp, maybe your appendiz is going to burst" (That last one was my brother. He loves me.)

So over and over I was told to either shut up, or was given a ridiculous solution. Well I do believe I have mentioned my lack of health insurance in another post. And it is a BIG factor in my life. Especially when you have a mystery illness. But alas, I am still in no place to afford myself the sweet luxury of health insurance.

No matter! I have figured it out. I think Oprah calls these "ah ha! moments". Unfortunately the way that I found out was freaking Elisabeth Hasselbeck. Gross. When she talks I want to punch her. She might have just told me that I am the most beautiful woman in the world and I would still want to punch her in her baby maker.

But anyway, her obnoxious voice got me to stop on a channel where she was hocking her new book. I listened for a bit and it seemed to describe me. I immediately decided to do a gluten free diet for a month or so to gauge amount of pain I was in.
It stopped. All together, no pain. It was tough the first couple of weeks. I still find it difficult to eat out. But honestly within weeks, I felt nothing. And it was amazing.

I had gotten so used to being doubled over in pain after eating that I found myself waiting. Waiting for it to hit me. I still do sometimes. I am only in month 2 of this lifestyle change and it is here to stay. Thank goodness I have a dietRition best friend who can help me figure out meals I can make. I gotta tell you I have never eaten so much meat in my entire life.

I seemed to have traded one obnioxious trait for another. I may now be that annoying girl at the restaurant asking what is "gluten free" and making sure there is "no bun" on my burgers and such. But I will no longer be the girl sitting there complaining after a meal any longer. I wont be all "i wanna go home, my stomach hurts" or "stop talking to me I hate you as well as my stomach!" Not that I've ever said those things. (sorry to the people who got yelled at while I was dealing with pain, I am pretty much only in touch with my more abrazive feelings, not so much the softer ones.)my bad.

But I'm better now!

...stay tuned.

Will YOU give me ten thousand dollars?

I am so thick headed,but that's another post.(no seriously I'm currently working on how it's possible that I function in life whilst being as stubborn as I am, stay tuned). I am finally sitting down to my computer on what is possibly the nicest day of this summer so far. Not too hot, plenty of sunshine and not a drop of rain forecasted. So I pick THE nicest day to stay inside and babble on to the multitudes (read:negative quantities) of people that have been breahtlessly waiting for a post since May. I have been putting off writing for a couple weeks now. Certainly not due to a lack of goings on to talk about. I started a couple of posts and never finished them...
One was about Rod Piazza and the glorious times where I thought "I'm gonna be a blues singer..you can freaking mumble and jumble words and put a few kick ass notes behind you and people eat that shit up" Rod Piazza wore a suit jacket splattered with gold paint spots. His wife played the piano with her feet and the waitress at Ram's Head Live told my father that they didn't have Guinness but they had another beer like it called "Genius".(Brilliant!) She also said peanut grigio. I love and simultaneously hate people all at the same time!

I had a post about the debauchery that went down in Dewey Beach on Memorial Day weekend. If you've ever heard of Dewey or been lucky enough to have passed through there, then you know. It's no bigger than 13 bars on a single stretch of road will allow. But it's the homiest most comfortable place I have ever been. For 6 years now I have made my way back there to enjoy the splendor (read: half naked surfer boys and a complete disconnect from the rest of the world.) that Dewey provides. For example Suicide Sunday is a time honored tradition at one of the WORLD's greatest bars, The Starboard. Wake up nice and early and get your game face on. Bloody Marys and Mimosas at nine in the afternoon, Eggs Delmarva and a line that boasts "if your not standing in it by 9:15, just go home." So I will spare you the champagne soaked details and get to the moral of this non-post... Ask and you shall recieve. Hostess pages me at 2 hour wait time and says htey're no longer seating. I asked her to reconsider. The owner of the joint gave us a table.
Shots? Done, I didn't pay for any of them.
Pouring a gimundo container of syrup on obnoxious frat boys around us? Yup he seriously let me. Got mad at the aftermath of having WAY more syrup on his face than he had planned. Then later asked me to marry him. (the rule doesn't apply to him, I said no.)
3pm came and the crew was far from coherent...the night ended there. For some, not for me but again the details have been lost in a sea of thoughts consumed by the fact that I will again return this weekend for my best friends little sister(lets call her Henna)'s 21st birthday.

I read the Blogess' post about her aunt dying and though how coincidental that it inspired her to write a post about Mariah Carey and my aunt Christy just passed away 2 weeks ago and I couldn't think of a syllable to write that wouldn't make me curse the heavens for taking such a life force out this world.

I also had a post about, oh shit. I already forgot that one too. Well let me tell you what finally got me to sit down and write after all these weeks.



A loan. A boring stinking banks are failing someone give me a car loan.
So my question is... if they say no. Will YOU give me around 10 grand? Or how about a car in working order? Oh come on. I'm cute.

Right?


...stay tuned