The moral of the story folks . . . The quickest way to get over a cheating ex-boyfriend is to have a BIGGER and WORSTER problem to worry about. Oh, and don't drink and drive. And yes, I know "worster" is not a word.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The moral of the story folks . . . The quickest way to get over a cheating ex-boyfriend is to have a BIGGER and WORSTER problem to worry about. Oh, and don't drink and drive. And yes, I know "worster" is not a word.
He suggested we meet at BJ’s for dinner. Of course, my mind reverted to perversion and the memory of some creep trying to get me to blow him in a bar parking lot.
All giggles, I told the moms, “We’re going to BJ’s, hope he’s not expecting one!”
Ok, so there were no blow jobs in the parking lot, but I did get a good laugh later in the evening when he told me he tried to think of a casual place, but then realized the innuendo that could be derived from the restaurants name. Thus, I pulled out my cell phone showing him the text I’d sent to my mother while he stepped away to use the restroom:
“10:59pm Sat, Jan 30
Still at bj’s, hasn’t asked for one yet”
Instead of sucking the penis, I ate undercooked vegetarian pizza, had a few drinks and talked a whole bunch. It was great, better than any blow job I’ve ever given! (that’s sort of joke, y’all)
Definitely, our outing was a pleasant surprise. I was pleased to be out with another perfect gentleman who’s down with the swirl. (OMG the 1st pic wikipedia link cracked me up!)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
I know the online dating antics brought a lot of you over and then the antics fell off because frankly the whole thing grew old and annoying. It’s not like I was trying to deprive y’all. Dang! Well, let’s get back to the dating stuff for a minute because your ol’ pal, Steph had a dizz-ate last night- woot, woot.
See, it went down kind of by accident; I had all, but given up on dating and was browsing profiles for kicks. Y’all know some of them are funny. I randomly messaged a decent looking fella with a legitimate question regarding his profile and a little messaging ensued. Actually, I was caught off guard when he sent his number my way, but yep, that’s how this date came about.
We met at Pete’s Dueling Piano Bar in Addison that’s Dallas area for you non-DF Dub-ers, parked, paid and then went to a greasy burger joint below the bar. Yum, but I had to cut the burger short because of the greasiness; thought that patty would make me poop and uh, that’s a no.
During the burger eating, French fry sharing fest he asked if I drink, to which I replied yes, thinking the question came a little late since he invited me to a bar and all. I did what any other gal would do and returned the question…Oh, no wonder he asked, he’s allergic to alcohol. And, hay and silk are allergens as well.
“So you can never have silk sheets?” *giggle, giggle* yeah that’s me thinking I’m funny.
*giggle, giggle* “Hey, you can’t ever go on a hay ride, can you?” later, still cracking myself up.
Well, it was established he can indeed have a few drinks, but must watch himself and if all else fails and he gets carried away, there’s an EpiPen in his car. I told him to hand over his keys, just in case. Nope.
We made our way back upstairs to conscientiously have drinks and enjoy piano dueling. All was good and nice, but after a long day at the elementary and nonstop clapping at an awards ceremony for the upper grades, I was flat pooped, unable to fully get into the true spirit of the bar. I didn’t share this sentiment for fear of being labeled a dud; however, he suggested going somewhere a little less rambunctious.
We bundled into our coats, freeing our chairs for a fresh faced couple eagerly awaiting a seat and hit the pavement. We decided what we’d do and I told him I’d only do it under the condition he didn’t try any weird shit and no, I wouldn’t leave my car with the valet and ride in his car.
Sidenote: “Don’t go to a man’s house to watch a movie. He’s only using the movie as a guise to get his penis in you” is a statement I jokingly, yet seriously maintain. I’ve also been know to tell my friends to uphold my mottos, “Never trust a guy in all white sneakers”, “Take what you can get” and “Uh, you’re not getting any younger”. Those last two usually go in tandem, but there are exceptions to every rule, especially those last two.
He seemed harmless enough, so I ventured to his house.
Really, a mild mannered, gentleman-ly guy.
We arrive at his house to watch a comedy, All About Steve, and then onto some big head, Steven Segal movie. During the movie watching, we talked and he shared his "story" and of course I divulged nothing because that’s just maladjusted me.
During this chat, I find he’s divorced, which I think I knew ahead of time, but forgot and then was reminded. He’s been without the wife for 3 months. I’m the first date since a Christmas date with a supposed semi-whack job. Yikes.
As the hours passed, I asked if it would be ok if I were to sleep on the couch because I was far too tired to figure my way back home. I slept over on his L shaped couch. Me on one section and he on the other, both of us fully clothed. There was no kissing, hand holding, no touching what so ever. I was completely relieved he didn’t “try any weird shit” as I had warned earlier.
At 6AM, my alarm sounded like usual. Too tired to fully wake, I laid there with my eyes closed.
“Is it alright if I lay beside you?”
We lay there on the couch, with him holding me and my arm entwined in his.
Yeah, eventually we locked lips a bit after we brushed out teeth, which was swiftly interrupted when I heard the voice on the TV say, "I got kicked out of Boy Scouts for eating Brownies". Really, how could I not laugh? Stupid Segal movies.
I scrammed out of there and went home. He let me follow him out of his neighborhood and then onto the highway, where we parted ways.
I tried really hard not to do anything socially awkward and/or inappropriate. I mostly passed with flying colors ;)
I'd probably hang out with him again. He's okay. We will see. Keep ya posted!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
This time around it’s our girl from 20SB, Ashley, at You’re the Charlie Browniest.
Sheesh, that’s a cute blog name, right y’all? It’s about as cute as this story she’s about to share with you! And, how in the heck did she know to include a moral at the end of her story!? So, lets get ready to learn our lesson;
Replicating the Boards: A Love, Actually Mishap
When Stephanie made the call for embarrassing stories about love or unrequited love, I knew this post had to be written. And you should know, blogosphere, that you’re privileged people because I rarely tell this story to anyone. If you weren’t there to witness it, chances are you don’t know it happened. But I’m coming clean now, all for the sake of the wonderful Stephanie (whom I thank muchly for letting guest bloggers take over her space!)
So…we’ve all seen the movie Love, Actually, right? The brilliant, amazing, sweetest movie ever? Do we all remember the scene between Juliet (Keira Knightley) and Mark (Andrew Lincoln) – as pictured? For those who don’t, Juliet is married to Mark’s best friend; all the while, Mark harbors a secret love for her.
In order to get over her, Mark decides to confess his love: using poster boards. He goes to her house, gets her to the front door without her husband, and proceeds to hold up multiple poster boards declaring his love. I promise the scene is actually much better, I’m crap at re-telling movie plots. I highly recommend it.
Somehow in all my viewings of that movie, I missed that he did it in order to get over her.
Pretty early on in my first year of college, I had a core group of friends: 2 other girls and 7 boys. If I was anywhere, at least one of them would be with me. And as all things go, I eventually realized I had a slight crush on one of the boys, who I’ll call Smith. Smith’s roommate was another one part of our group, and I’ll call him Matt. Now, I was often in their room. I mean, I had a thing for Smith, of course I would want to be around him all the time.
Have I mentioned I don’t do subtle? That might come in handy for later.
So I was constantly there, always hanging out with them. They were actually my friends too, so they didn’t mind (I don’t think…). I should have known it was trouble the day I realized I didn’t care when Smith was around…I was actually always looking for Matt. Just like that, my crush switched roommates: now I was all about Matt.
One of my best memories with Matt is when we watched Love, Actually together with a few friends; of course, all the girls had seen it and none of the guys had, so we forced them to watch it. In the end, they all loved it, and it seemed to really strike a chord with Matt.
I don’t know the train of thought, but somehow three of my friends decided that before we left for winter break, I would confess my love for Matt in the same way as Mark did for Juliet.You would think I would immediately veto the suggestion, right? Any sensible woman would.
The night I decided to go through with it was a disaster.
Only Smith and the other two girls in the group knew what I was going to do, so I can’t really blame our friend Ryan when he invited Matt out to a movie that same night and didn’t return until 2am. I briefly considered doing it when they got back, but I knew Matt would be tired. So then I considered not doing it at all, but for some reason—which I most valiantly wish I knew now—I decided I’d just move it to the next day. Even though it felt all wrong, I pushed it aside as nerves.
8pm, the next day. I’m in one of the other friend’s rooms, waiting for Smith to call me to let me know Matt was back in their room. Unfortunately, he was hanging out in a different room with some friends, so I was forced to wait until whenever he returned. Around 10:30, the call came. “Ash, he’s here,” Smith whispered to me. I could hear him closing the door behind him. “You need to do it now, I think he’s tired.”
Without any thought, I left the room I was in and retrieved the necessary supplies: poster boards and Matt’s Christmas gift. I went downstairs to his room, stood outside the door, and took a deep breath.
I knocked twice…Nothing.
Knocked twice more.
Now the panic sets in (about two weeks too late, in retrospect).
What do I do?!
I knew they rarely locked their door, so I quietly opened it and poked my head in. Where was he? I doubt he left—Oh, there he is.
This is sign #4 I shouldn’t go through with this, in case you’re keeping track.
I quickly back out and call Smith. Again, any sensible person would probably give up. But no, not I or my friends—we persevere!
Smith came up with the idea that he would go in the room and start banging things around to wake up Matt, while I stayed just outside the door so I could quickly get to him while he was in a conscious state.
Smith enters, I hear a few things being tossed around, muffled voices, and Smith is back out the door. “He’s up, you’re on!” he whispers, dashing down the hall.
It’s not a wonder to me that Smith sounded like he was giving stage directions, because at this point, I’m pretty positive my life is one of those horrible chick flick parody movies you wish you hadn’t snuck into. I took two deep breaths, and knocked.
“Oh, hey Ashley,” Matt says as he pulls open the door, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes, “What’s up?”
“Um, can I come in? I want to talk to you. And I have your Christmas gift.”
“Oh, sure…sorry,” he says as he yawns. “I was sleeping, but Smith woke me up.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“Kind of…but you’re here, it’s fine, don’t worry.” He smiles at me, then sees the boards in my hands. “What are those?”
“Uhhh…nothing….well…no, nothing, really…here’s your gift!” I’m not entirely sure, but I may have thrown the present at him.
I have to explain that the minute he saw those boards, I knew he knew what was going to happen. He knew, and I knew, and still, I pushed on.
What number reason are we on that I shouldn’t do this?
After he opens the gift, he smiles and thanks me…and then the awkwardness sets in. I’m sitting on his bed, he’s in his desk chair, and the boards are lying on the bed next to me. It’s now or never, Ashley, now or never.
“So…here’s the thing…I guess I should do this…I mean…yeah, I’m gonna…you know what this is, you recognize it?”
He nods silently. I take a deep breath, hold up the boards…and start.
I wish I could tell you more about the boards, like what they said or his exact reactions, but I’ve apparently repressed it because I don’t have a memory of it. The only thing I do remember is the minute I started holding up the poster boards, I realized I actually didn’t like Matt.
Do you know the weirdness that sets into your body when you’re declaring your feelings for someone in a potentially super romantic situation (because, think about it, if I had liked him, and he did return the feelings, how awesome of a story would this have been?! I know, right?! I’m fucking awesome.), and all of a sudden you know you actually don’t have those feelings? It’s very, very strange. And a bit uncomfortable.
The only thing I do remember is him smiling at me after the last board was read, saying, “Thanks for the gift, I loved it, and you’re really nice,” hugging me…and then he lay down on the bed and promptly fell asleep. Without another word.
Thankfully, only those three friends knew what I was doing, so what happened was kept quiet. Matt never told, and the rest of us swore not to, either. I never admit that was the moment I realized I, in fact, did not have those feelings for Matt anymore; I just let it slowly die, telling them that knowing he didn’t return the feelings made it gradually fade away. Even though the awkwardness level between Matt and I increased significantly, the embarrassment had thankfully stayed relatively low.
That is, until one of our other friends found the boards in my room a couple months later and proceeded to show them to the every single boy on my floor. And the six boys on the floor below. And even two on the floor above. My only saving grace was my quick lie (white lie…a small fib…even self defense, if you will) that I was merely replicating the props used in one of my favourite scenes in one of my favourite movies. No one ever knew the full, true story…until now, anyway.
I still can’t say how I just knew I didn’t like Matt at that moment, nor can I say why I didn’t stop the boards and explain myself. I don’t know why I went through with the boards, but it at least makes a good story now. If there’s anything you should learn from this, it’s this little tidbit of wisdom: replicating movie scenes may result in the same outcome that happened in the movie.
Oh, and throw away the poster boards.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Speaking of work, today was definitely colorful. While taking the kiddies to the lunchroom, I had a boy say, “Ms. So and So, what’s masturbate mean?” Easily caught of guard, what could I do other than laugh and tell him knows what the word means, it's completely inappropriate to discuss at school and that’s something he needs to do in the privacy of his home, not school.
About thirty minutes later I had another student, a girl, tell me her “privacy” hurt and I was like, “Your what!?”
“Ms. So and So, my privacy hurts.” Holy hell, what do you say to that!? I asked the kid if she had to use the restroom, while trying to think up all the reasons my own crotch would hurt. After securing some privacy, I managed to find out her mom says she needs cranberry juice. Okay, okay, clear picture.
I don’t know what has contributed to my piss poor moods lately. The sickness, the kids, the TX history, the traffic, the food, the weather, the living situation, the oil change I keep putting off, the restlessness, the money, the uncertainty, the love life, the habits, the unpacked boxes…It’s a little everything, I suppose. I really need to start taking my medicine regularly because I’m not used to feeling this shitty. Stop!
If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading my little rant of the day. Look forward to tomorrow’s Love Horror: Part III.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Are those sweet faced children really the cause of this germy situation?
I have no idea who these cuties are, but if you look closely this picture is a hoot!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday’s Love Horror is a little tale from our new friend @ Single Infertile Female. (She’s good!)
Okay, you got your glasses on? Relaxed? Ready? Let's go!I’ve had a few dating mishaps and disasters (some mine, and some the blunderings of the man of the evening) in my life, but there is one that so completely and totally takes the cake that it is to this day an urban legend told by those who knew me then as a warning to men and women alike about the dangers of drinking and oral sex.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
With Valentine’s approach and having no luck in making a “love connection” of my own, I thought it would be a great, marvelous idea to hear the horrific, mortifying, and/or laugh out loud stories of others. Not only does misery love company, what use is living if you can’t get a good giggle going at your own expense? With that said…..
First up is our friend, Michelle @ Desultory Diversions!
A little background on me: I am inherently mistrustful of people, especially men on the internet. I Google the hell out of any guy I’m interested in before deciding to meet him in person, if it even gets that far!
I met a guy on a dating website a couple weeks after my ex and I broke up. At the time, I was more interested in random hookups than a relationship, but stating that brings creeps by the truckloads. One normal guy managed to slip in with the barrage of crazy in my inbox. He was nice, funny and cute so I responded... and visited my best friend, Google.
He'd put his AIM screen name in his profile, which was enough to get me started. My quick search brought up no flags, and he continued to be charming.
We decided to go out for dinner after work, which turned into him coming over for leftover sushi (yeah, I’m a cheap date). Date night: we ate, talked and fooled around.
My roommate got home just as he was leaving. Roomie and I discussed the date and reviewed his online persona together. We stumbled across a page I hadn't seen before, and a flag went up. Small flag, so I let it go... for a day.
I Re-Googled (is that a word yet?) the info I had and then Googled all the new stuff. I wound up with two subtly different sets of information. Rather than completely freak out, I asked him about it. I was totally upfront about my internet stalking and concerns it raised... which freaked him out.
Turns out he'd been seriously stalked by an ex. He'd purposely changed some of his information and deleted (or so he thought) certain profiles so she couldn't find him. My curiosity (crazy lack of trust, whatever) triggered his "run in the opposite direction quickly" instincts, while I was only trying to protect myself. He understood where I was coming from, but was still shaken (which I understood and respected). We put the breaks on the whole thing so he could sort through his shit....
I haven't heard from him since.
Moral of the story: Don't tell your dates about your Google addiction!
Ah, a socially awkward situation frightening off a memeber of the opposite sex, how familiar this is to me! Do you have a similar story? Who did you freak out? ....Please share,comment :)
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
So, there you have it between the last post and this on you've seen my entire weekend... almost ;)
Saturday, January 16, 2010
We met at the infamous Rainbow Lounge in Ft. Worth, a local bar catering to the gays. The N got to be center of attention on the dance floor, as she received multiple lap dances from females and males alike. All sorts of vag and penis in the face, pants unfastened with teeth, spinning, gyrating, vibrating, dry humping, basically the whole kit and caboodle. Lucky! I made a video with my cam and it’s pretty bad, but if you turn off your sound and be patient, you can see what I’m talking about:
Now, let’s get down to biznas… Having shared what I dancing fool I am a dance video has been requested multiple times. Well friends, I’ve finally come through. In this vid, I’m standing around a cluster of friends who can’t seem to make it to the dance floor. BOO! on you party poopers! Again, not the greatest of videos, but here’s a tiny glimpse of the terribleness.
God only knows what this is about.
Yeah, nonsmoking Steph was puffing the cigs. Ugh, did I feel like a giant heap of shit this morning when I woke up! At least it wasn't crack or something...Hopefully tonight will be equally as fun & I wish you all a good weekend, too!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
If you have a love horror story you’d like to contribute please, please share! When I say horror, I don’t mean I want to hear about abuse, divorce or traumatic events…I wanna know the good, juicy, embarrassing stuff, and the stories of unrequited love!
C’mon give it to me! firstname.lastname@example.org
Oh, and here’s a great love poem, Mad Libs style, to get you into the groove of things
Your skin glows like the banana, blossoms sticky as the peony in the purest hope of spring.
For real, yesterday, I came home, made some Jiffy Pop and then went to bed all before 6pm.
I love being at the school everyday, however being there is actual work, which I haven’t done in years thanks to my former cushy position in the garage door biz. I can tell the kids are beginning to come around, warm up to me- they ask a barrage of questions and share unnecessary information. It’s sweet!
“What kind of car do you drive?” as I return from lunch.
Pointig to the word ‘handyman’ in a book, “This looks like your last name Ms. So&So.”
“Do you live with your mom?”
“Do you really have a dog or did you make that up?”
“Are you going to work here next year?”
“Do you live in a dorm or at home?”
“Are you his mom?”
“Where do you go to school?”
“What’s your first name?”
“Is that your real hair?”
To be fair, I ask them a lot of questions as well. I’m just as nosey.
So, thing have been great at work, but the online love life is another story!
Saturday, January 9, 2010
And since I’m on the subject of truth, let me offer you 10 Steph Factoids because my brother form another mother (and father), http://mykafkaesquelife.blogspot.com/, tagged moi! My pit hair took an eternity to sprout. There was no real necessity to shave the pits until I reached my late teens/early twenties. At 28 and a little more than a half, I only have 1 armpit in need of routine shaving; the left armpit hair has yet to really grow.
I saw Cabaret at the local community college and knew then and there the stage had been calling upon deaf ears. Why am I such a fool? Why hadn’t I listened!? Probably because I can’t sing or dance and know I’d be a flop. I’d go for a career in stand- up as well, but I’m not that funny. Yeah, the stage...a delusional calling I often dream of.
I don’t fear pooping in public restrooms. If I gotta go, I gotta go. Hey, you asked for truths!
Between lack of TV watching and a faulty car radio, I’m totally unaware of any current events. It’s sort of nice to be clueless.
I know panty lines are against all rules and regulations, but thongs gross me out. Only out of necessity do I own and wear these underpants. The specifics of thong wearing is a sobering thought. That’s all I’m going to say.
Here’s a controversial one! Now, this is something I rarely, if ever discuss and when and if I do, I bite my tongue…I’m not pro-choice.
I’m a scared-y cat to the max. I avoid horror and suspense like nobodies business but strangely enough I love watching shows about real murders.
I really, really, really want to live in the country so I can buy a baby brown cow.
Whoa, this truth isn’t going to be pretty. I apologize in advance, Mother. Okay, I once had to pee soooo bad while doing the 2AM, after the bar, Whataburger taquitos sound so good trip through the drive through that I got out of the car to urinate between vehicles. Embarrassing.
This final fact is G-rated. Ya ready? I love popcorn, plain popcorn. MMMM :D
So there you have it, 10 Steph Factoids.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
As you may or may not know, against the many wishes of others I quit my day job, bar it wasn’t for a lounge singing gig, so I may still be okay on this one; I’ve started an internship at the school I’ve been working at since August.
Oh, these kids…
I full heartedly work my hardest to not be judgmental of parents, but some of the things I observe cause night terrors! Okay, that statement became a tad extreme and a slight dramatic. Seriously though, I’m constantly making a mental “Parental Do/Don’t Do List”. Even with this mental list, realistically, I know I’ll fudge up along the way. Shit, I don’t really do lists. I’m more of a “let’s wing it!” sort of person.
Before I go off track, let me make my point quickly before you lose interest, but let me preface this point by saying this first going off topic again…. I’ve returned to the grade 4’s here comes the sappy stuff and I truly think they’re beautiful, fun little people with tons of potential, granted it’s properly fostered. I genuinely want them all to grow into happy, positive minded, productive contributors to society.
It breaks my heart to think and know this guy in the picture was someone’s baby, just like these kids I’m with. Being the sensitive goon I am, this thought makes me cry just thinking about it. Hell, I’m teary now and thanking God, I didn’t go into social work.
Sheesh, why can’t I stay on track? It’s because I don’t blame the kids for what I’m about to say, I blame the parents, but then again try to give Ol’ Mom and Dad the benefit of the doubt. Forgive me, I can’t stay with the point it because I don’t want to be misinterpreted that’s it!
For Pete’s sake, here here's the deal!
It freaks me the flip out to see 4th grade girls in make-up. I’m yucked out beyond belief seeing hot pink zebra striped acrylic nails attached to a little girl. Skinny jeans and 1.5 inch high boots are, in my opinion, not for little girls. Waxed eyebrows are also a no in my book. Temporary tattoos placed behind the ear, another no.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
you're a creep for posting this stuff. how mean of you.
image courtesy of
It’s in no way nice to name call therefore you aren’t very nice either :/
AND on a more positive note, check out StSaint's Relationships Blog Carnival where you can read yours truly and some other fun stuff!