Call Dr. Drew

I'm addicted.
Seriously, it's bad.

I wake up, wanting this drug. If I don't get some during the day, it's going to be a rough night. I am shaken from my sleep with extremely vivid dreams about my addiction. My personality is that of a constant user who knows how to get what she wants.

The highs are quick and fleeting. The lows can last for days.
I don't really drink.
I've never smoked anything in my life.

But when it comes to this, I am a freaking junkie.




I am addicted to... MEN.

It's the worst addiction out there. I ride the highs and lows of dating slash flirting each and every day.
I know I am a flirt. (I have known this for a very long time.)
I know I am a tease. (I mus've been born without a slutty bone in my body. Dangsies.)

So here I am, cooped up inside my own little world of addiction.
Round and round I go. Does he like me? Will he call? What does that mean? SHould I ask him out or wait for him to ask me out? Why hasn't he complimented anything about me except my boobs? Why won't he kiss me? blah blah blah....

Guys. You may not be able to relate to this. Or understand it at all. I don't expect you to. You are simple. And I have been told that I over think things.

Well, girls, you understand this right? How can I not constantly think about men? We all do. It's fun, most of the time. But sometimes...
Wait?! Was that a text message?God I hope it's from a boy. Oh but which one?

Doesn't really matter. I mean. I would like to get messages and calls from certain men in my life more than others. But when I going through withdrawal anything will do.

I recently joked with a girlfriend that I realized that men were my drug. I am not out whore-ing it up so I don't really think I need Dr. Drew. But when you walk into work one day, down and out and the only thing you can attribute to your grumpiness is the lack of men "oohing" and "aaahing" over you. Well then you know you've got a problem.
Or I have a problem I should say.

Or how about days when I bounce around and tell every other woman in my life about the current guy. Rarely oh so rarely a boyfriend. Truthfully most of them last just mere moments in my revolving door of men in my life.

It's sad when said women in my life recount a specific man and I cannot recall whom they are talking about.

I usually describe them in detail so they have only attributes to try and jog my memory. Sadly they don't have names.
The firefighter or
the geek soccer player or
the guy from Tech or
the 64 year old (which isn't actually an age of a person I've dated but my brothers have decided all the older guys I date(no older than 35 mind you) are no longer allowed a reasonable number for their ages, so it ranges from late 50's to early 80's.. it's awesome when they yell "wait you mean you're 75 year old?" , "Why yes brother, my 92 year old boyfriend and I are very happy together, thank you!"} (My family loves me)

So when I didn't get (and still haven't gotten)what I really wanted from the current guy, sure enough I turned around and there was a ripe 21 year old. He thinks we are gonna go out sometime. And I think he is just pretty to look at and I know he just wants to see me naked so I won't be pursuing anything with him. What I will do is use the attention I get from him to suffice while FP throws me for some more loops. Yeah I'm using one drug to hold me over until I get what I really want.

I've been called fun, and entertaining and the life of the party. But little does everyone know that my actions are equivalent to the itchy arms of a heroine user or the pacing back and forth outside of a dealers house.


So here I am, currently in a state of naught. Neither high nor low. I am trying to control the urges. I'm just gonna go to the gym. And make sure I wear a super tight super cute outfit so I get a glance or two. That should get me high enough today.

I'm a complete sociopath. Awesome.


...stay tuned.

A Boy Made Me Do It

I woke up from a coma today.
Yeah, another life coma. Believe it.

Man I seriously need health insurance. Gotta get those things checked out.

I'm pretty sure it's like one life coma per year is healthy. I mean NOT healthy, but do able. (And no, that's not what she said, Will!! Jeez. She isn't nearly as slutty as people make her out to be. And she is pretty tired of being referenced all the time.Okay? So just drop it)

But honestly, I am 24 years old now. I swear it was yesterday that I was having the shittiest twenty first birthday ever.
And just a few weeks ago I was angst ridden and West Coast bound...

I never really listened to old people when they have told me about how fast life goes and you don't realize it, so enjoy it blah blah blah.

All I can think about with old people is how in nursing school I was told we weren't allowed to call them cute.....Under any circumstance!

Yet, still no memo on calling the short 24 year old cute. I still have to endure this shit. Just cuz I'm fun sized doesn't mean I...Holy crap I'm gonna be old one day! I just fucking figured that out! ( and I will be freaking cute then too, I'm sure of it.)
So maybe as long as I keep surrounding myself with older men. (NOT a problem for this girl) then I will never feel quite as old as them! Yay. Genius plan.

Back to birthdays. This year. Thank God for Florida. I mean we don't have to get all biblical here because it is just Florida I'm talking about. But someone may have been missing a toe or twelve if I didn't go to Cocoa Beach for 5 days before my birthday. (Thank you best friend.)

Quickly I will explain. (quickly, only because I am convinced anyone who is reading this has better things to do and is always waiting for me to get to the point. Where you can then exclaim immediate judgment upon me... "Hysterical!" or "Genius!" or "You're hot I want to date you!"... wait you couldn't possibly get all that from a blog post... unless. No never mind.)

I like birthdays. You wouldn't know about my annual birthday countdown because I have been effing lazy this year and felt no need to make you endure the 3 months of counting down until I was twenty..whatever the hell age I am.

But in my head and to the people around me, my birthday is the shit. This is when I go crazy. I make big plans and I intend to live on a grand scale for just a day. (I'm lying to you, I get a birthday week, or two. The one leading up to and the one following. Deal with it.) I invite anyone to come join in the festivities and this year.

My awesome idea was...

Atlantic City.

Seriously, I was excited. Many people tried to talk me out of my excitement. They would say.."it'll underwhelm you" "do you guys ALL really want to gamble?" "the strip club on 12th is the place you should..." Well whatever they said. There was many a person who apparently have clairvoyant abilities and tried to tell me.

I ignored them all. I had 7 other people drive up and stay in a horrendous pube filled hotel. (according to Sonny, they're nutritional, but don't take his word for it.Stay away kids)

7 of us have NEVER been there before. The one who has, was days away from getting married. So what he remembers is pretty much not valid. (Except that strip club he was telling us about.)

Let me fast forward and tell you how the night ended and my actual birth day began.
With me slamming the hotel door yelling " GO F*!% YOURSELF" and then I went back into my room and my best friend sang happy birthday and gave me my annual lemon cake.

The in between was all whining and complaining about losing 20 dollars in one WHOLE hour. And lots of drunken antics, and no real big winners to speak of...

So yeah icksnay on the ewNay erseyJay Forever. I never want to visit that state again.


Happppy Birthday to me.

So it's understandable that an impromptu trip to Florida for five days sitting with my best friend wooing multiple crowds of men by the beach was much more pleasant than a night in a dirty hotel where I tried to play matchmaker with my weekend plans and everyone else who came along.

The good thing about birthdays. They keep on comin'.



p.s. thanks Stephen for reminding me why I like to write, and why I should get back to posting regularly on here.
I have to share with you his texts this morning, that lead to the title of this post.
My thoughts in parentheses

"So I just read a few posts on your blog.

(I love this because now I know he stalks me, cuz I never mentioned my blog to him!
HA!)

You are a f-ing hysterical writer. I was seriously laughing.

(I have NO clue which posts he read, sorry I can't vouch for the whole me being funny)

Who knew you could write?

( Um? I did. Thanks.)

I mean you sure as hell can't drive a kart."

(He took me go karting on Sunday. I wish I could say he was lying. But I sucked ass.)

To which I responded
"You just made my freaking day. I haven't been able to write since I share my computer is in storage right now.
(and i live in the stone age and don't have a laptop.)
AND I wasn't exactly sure anyone actually liked my blog. Writing is how I want to make my fortune in life, I'm currently working on a series of children's books."

And then this little gem...

"I'm impressed. And frightened at the same time... re: the kids books. Kinda like when I discovered George Carlin narrated Thomas the Tank Engine Shows...as my son watches."

Did anyone just read that?! I like that comparison. Even if it is meant not in the way that I am like George Carlin in any way shape or form. Because I obviously know that. Much less my level of comedy being anywhere near able to reach that of the late great Mr. Carlin's. But to compare the shock and horror a hot Dad feels when realizing my mouth of a sailor is trying to write a series of successful children's books, well it's a great day.




...stay tuned.

Thank You Sir, May I Have Another?

I'm pretty sure everyone has some crazy cockamamie conspiracy theory that they have come up with and truly believe.
Right?
Like the government is listening to our cell phone conversations.
(whaaaaaaat!? !That's for real, like for real for real!!?)

okay how about...

GPS systems can be hacked into and people can stalk you everywhere you go
(that's legit too? Shiittttt!)

or
the leprechauns at the end of rainbows aren't handing out gold coins from their pots, instead they're armed with pistols and glocks.
(hello It's a freaking recession!!) (What? Just me?)

But for real. I have this twinge every time I fill up my car with gasoline. This slight hesitation. I believe I am being taken for a ride. (Pun intended) Bear with me here while I explain..

Let me start by saying my car is well, jinxed, to say the least. So as a fun joke (my car is freaking HIL-arious by the way) the regulator or valve or flux capacitor or some other car sounding word thing inside the gas tank doesn't work.

I cannot fill up my gas tank like everyone else.

I have to stand and hold the nozzle at a very specific angle with the exact amount of pressure on the handle for my tank to allow gas to flow into it. If I don't do exactly as my tank demands it immediately ceases all flow and allows me to adjust and try again.And again and again. Sometimes just pennies worth of gasoline get in, sometimes dollars but if I move the slightest bit from that point that was working. BAM! Off goes the pump and all the people at surrounding pumps either think I'm dense as shit and keep trying to top off my tank or that I'm dense as shit and don't realize there is a little lever underneath that will allow you to lock the nozzle in as is and walk away as it still pumps.

So I may be paying a bit more attention to detail than others. You lucky bastards that get to stick it in and walk away. (that's what she said!Wait!What? Dangsies I don't even like that's what she said jokes!)

Anyway, It is a pain in the freaking ass. And have you seen the weather channel lately?!?Holy frigid nipples Batman! It's colder than Arnold Schwarzeneggar's hands after a long ride home from a masterful evening of evil. My little ass has to stand outside for every glorious moment of gasoline to drip into my tank.

So there I am. Holding the pump a lot closer than I care for. Sometimes with two hands. (Yes I recognize the visual you all just got.)
I am FULLY convinced that when you pre pay. Which I never used to do. Not because of this suspicion but because I never had cash money. Now that I am a waitress, it's all I have and I feel like a drug dealer at times.
(It's the presence of 1's that separate the drug dealers from the strippers by the way.)

My only option nowadays it to make it rain on the cashier and give him that Andrew Jackson that it takes to flll my take. And as I am sure you all well know, when you pre pay, they slow down the flow of liquid as it nears the total amount.

Some places are different than others. Some start slowing down at 50 cents to go others anywhere up to 10 cents to go.
Locally its about 30 cents to go.

Here's my contention. I believe there is NO MORE GAS FLOWING into my car as soon as that pressure drops and the numbers slowly climb to the total. I honestly believe that I am no longer getting any more gas at this point. I can't be. Especially in this weather. Does gas freeze? Cuz it would totally do that in the tube if it was going as slow as it does with the little amount that is supposedly coming out.

So that's my conspiracy theory. And I don't think I can do anything about it. That's whats most upsetting. Taking on the Oil Companies. What am I ? Erin Brocovich?

I'm not. I will tell you that. And I am no Julia Roberts playing Erin Brocovich either. Dangsies!


I guess I could stop this nonsense and always pay with my card. But then I would have to be responsible and go to the bank and deposit shit and check my balance and stuff.

Is probably rather bitch about losing 30 cents worth of gasoline every time.

Anyway I'm totally buying a hybrid suckers! That'll teach 'em.



...stay tuned.

That little extra tip.

A little piece of me died last night.

The piece that is a die hard Baltimore Ravens fan. That is actually a huuuuugee part of a little girl.

Luckily there is enough left of me to go on... that is until I showed up at work and had to come to terms with two bets I made. With Steelers fans. Ew.

I also have tons of Steelers fans that are my friends. (I continually ask myself why that is, but I just cant seem to get rid of them.) So of course my Facebook wall is lit up with people in hysterics about their team sweeping my team this season.
A fact that I was not willing to admit. The second regular season game was won by a bullshit touchdown.
I don't blame much on the refs but I just don't agree with that call. You can review it all you want ESPN and draw a little line to show me just how the ball crossed the plane but I refuse to believe it. The refs took just a little bit of time to TURN OVER the ruling on the field. Which was no touchdown. (ahembullshitcoughcough)

Last night however was indeed a fair fight. We lost fair andsquare. We did not have enough steam to take us to their goal line one more time. Not that that alone would have done it. But we were a team that has played 17 weeks in a row. And a team whose starting line up reflected the lack of time off.
But the injured wanted to play last night. Willis, Ray Rice, and T Sizzle, who barely moved his right shoulder unless he was sacking Baby Ben. (Which was freaking GLORIOUS)

And many more were banged up before during and after this game. Willis McGahee being the most concerning of all. a hit the likes of which I have never seen. Both players were shaken up but I thought he was paralyzed.My heart sank and that is when I threw in the towel. The terrible towel that is.

I dreaded going to work today, but found a way to get through it.

You know, you can completely deflate a persons arrogance and gloating if you just happily smile and go with the flow. So yes, I will be donning a Steelers jersey during the Superbowl. I will not bitch about it.

In fact, my secret plan is to use it to my advantage. A poor little girl has to work in a gross yucky Steelers jersey and serve you food and work for tips. Wouldn't you want to give her a little extra tip to help her through?
That's the angle I am working. I'll let you know how it pans out when that fateful day is upon us.


So through the smile, my heart is broken. I was Wacco for Flacco hon.
But then again a rookie QB and Head Coach going to the AFC championship aint half bad by me.





(..GO CARDS!)



...stay tuned.

I'm kind of a big deal.

That's me in the middle.
I recently went to LA and met up with Heidi and Giselle and Tyra and those girls. It was cool, I got to wear a shirt like theirs.
Anyway, I am completely full of shit. But I had fun making this little picture. A slight exaggeration of a dream that I kind of have. I have always said that given another foot in heighth and I would totally be a model. Probably not true, but easy to cite my lack of tallness as the reason why I am not there with those women in reality.

Create your own FACEinHOLE


I created another one for my brother. Hysterical because I'm pretty sure he doesn't like Beckham and would rather meet Wayne Rooney.

Create your own FACEinHOLE

Whose face is replaced by his. Anywho, I think I could do this all day. If I didn't have a job.

Oh,I dont have to be at work until 6pm tomorrow? Sweet. Be expecting more of these! I'm gonna create a whole web of lies and start printing them out and framing them. I'll be a fake celebrity stalker monger whore thing. Kind of like Perez Hilton.

Nice to be back by the way.


...stay tuned.