Neurotic Ramblings

Posts Tagged ‘boys’

Ha, what a difference a day makes! 

The original title of this post was: This blog is brought to you by the letter B and the number P as in Pinot Grigio.

Partly (mostly), because I was blitzed on some when I wrote it, and then somehow forgot to post it.   Read on…

I want to bare my soul right now, but I can’t.

What the hell do you do when your moral core contradicts your heart?  When you see the fairy tale ending, but you’re the Wicked Witch of the West in the story?

Am I expecting a house to fall on me any minute now?  Absofuckinglutely.  Do I want to do anything about it?   Ansofuckinglutely NOT.

Why am I not allowed to be happy?  I’ve thought this many times over the past few days as this little line plays in my head: “My happiness is more important to me than yours”.  While it’s a bitch ass thing to say, it’s nothing but the truth.

Shit, who’s gonna worry about me and my feelings and my heart and my life if not myself?  That’s right, a whole lotta no one.

So to those of you who feel the need to run your mouth and talk your shit, I say this:  Keep talking, bitches,  you have no life.  Kiss my fucking sweet ass.  =)  ahahaha, you wish you fking could.

/drunken/dramatic rambles.

So, most of the sentiment remains the same: “You don’t like me?  Kiss my ass!”  I’ma do me & you can do you. 

But oh, fuck!  I let my feelings get the best of me.  This includes anger and irrantional…impatience.  Or something of the sorts. 

Anyfuckingway…I’ve neglected this place long enough.  Partly because of time constraints, mostly because I’m conscious about who reads it.  But then, I read this awesome post by Shine over at http://www.ishineoutloud.com/shine/  Go ahead, click the link!!!  (I know only like, three people read this blog and all, but two of you really need to read her last particular blog because she said everything I needed to say just so much better and the third one of you needs to go read her posts because she’s full of awesome). 

So now that you’re back, know that if you stumble on here and read something that hurts your feelings or you take personally or just puts your panties all in a twist, too fucking bad.

I’m me.  The same spazzy, foul-mouthed, emotional, insensitive, selfish, narcissitic drama queen you know and love.  You can like me or love me; you can try to hate me; but I’ma be me.

Besitos

Because bullet points make me smile…

• I need to find an outfit to wear on Saturday.  Every single piece of clothing I own has been played out.  If you’re my friend on FB, you’ve seen them all.  Plus I need cute winter clothes that can be dressed up for a night out, or played down and office appropriate.  I JUST NEED TO SHOP.  PERIOD.
• This month is still killing me financially.  I keep telling myself it will be ok.  I’m breaking down the budget accordingly. 
• This brings me to my next point:
  • I’ve had some people wonder how I bitch about my finances and still manage to go out “all the damn time”.  To those people I simply say this:  I have amazing party buddies.  End of story. 
• TABLE.  That’s all I have to say about that.    well, maybe an lmfao for good measure.
• I cannot WAIT for the end of this week to be here.  All my finals will be over and done with and this semester of procrastination will come to an end.  The S.O.D. will be put into retirement and while Spring will be looming right around the corner, it brings promises of A’s with it.
• There’s something that I’ve been dying to share with you guys…I’ve almost blogged about it, but don’t want to get ahead of myself so I’ve kept mum.  I’m still cringing from not being able to just blurt it out!
• I hadn’t realized how really incredibly happy making lists make me.   Everything is all nice and neat and organized.  I love it.

I’ll leave you with this tale of embarrassment from last night:

I’m suffering from “working out on a Monday” allergies so when I got to my mom’s at around 7ish, I asked her for an allergy pill.  She gave me some generic crap and made sure I only took ONE tiny little pill.  Fast forward to dinner with the BFF & her BF…I was LOOPY.  I couldn’t shut up.  I tried, but I couldn’t.  And I was LOUD!  Like, ten times louder than usual.  I managed to freak out a bus boy by yelling at Ricky Bobby for insinuating that he was bored.  But, the coup de gras came when we (finally) got our tab…see, we needed to split it…and the waiter boy (who looked like a Jonas brother and NOT a flat faced dog as RB put it) says “I can split it for you, just tell me how you want it” *cue school- girl-with-a-crush-med-induced-giggles here*  I could.not.stop.giggling.  I turned beet red.  I hadn’t had one of those moments since I was, well, in middle school.  Oh well, I guess it’s one of those “you had to be there” kind of things.  “how do you want it?”  hehehehehe….I can think of a couple of ways!  I’m such a perv!

Ok, I’ve drowned Debbie Downer in a wine glass full of pinot and I’m ready to share some TMI that I was victim of a couple of weeks ago…

My partner in crime and I had loads of sun this spring/summer.  There was lots of  partying, lots of alcohol, and lots of boys.  Well not a LOT of boys, but enough for us to not get lonely as the seasons changed…

Anytwat…I was at work behaving like the good girl that I am (read: I was bummed that I couldn’t go out that night) when this text pops up on my cell:

PC (partner in crime) “Come get me, I’m at ____.  Bring a brush.”

Me: “OMG…what, I mean WHO, did you do?”

PC: “Just come get me, I’ll tell you when you get here”

So I hop in my car and head home from work to grab a brush for my friend in need.  I may or may not have also slipped on some higher heels just in case we went out for happy hour, but that’s besides the point…

I get to (insert hotel name here) and let her know I’m there and wait…and wait…and wait some more.  The suspense is killing me at this point because damnit, I want to know what happened!!!

I’m looking in the rearview and I see her walk out and then…ZOMG!  JAILBAIT!!!

“OH.MAI.GAWD, PC, what did you DO?! lmfao!”

“Just drive!  I’ll tell you right now…”

In the process of picking a gossip spot, Jailbait calls her and somehow or another he ended up tagging along.  I guess I should tell you who Jailbait is…he’s PC’s 18 year old, well 19 as of that day, coworker who just so happens to be in L**E with her.

We get to the restaurant, order our drinks and then she proceeds to make HIM tell ME what went down the night before.

His answer? “She raped me!!!”

I swear I tried not laugh/choke on my pina colada…but I just couldn’t help myself!

He then goes on and fills me in on the rest of the details which included his party favors, drinks, PC grinding on him on the dance floor and then just bolting and then somehow ending back up with him, and explicit details on how my  friend ended up being a man eater and taking advantage of a poor, unsuspecting 19 year old.  This eventually led to whether or not a guy can be raped by a chick if he’s drugged because how’s it going to stand at attention if it’s asleep???

This entire time PC is sitting across from me eating the hell out of her shrimp quesadillas and sipping on her drink as if this were the usual for a Thursday evening convo.  Gotta love her!

I have an awesome TMI coming up for you guys…you will not believe the shit that happened to me last Halloween!!

As always, for the Queen of TMI & more hilarious stories, make sure you click here!

Whoa.

That is the overall sentiment regarding last night.

A few highlights…showing someone a picture of another someone’s torso and it being recognized. I’m cutting my losses short here (again) and not bothering with it anymore.

I have got to stay away from…damnit, I can’t even say keywords, nicknames or give context clues without giving myself away here.

I’m pretty sure I grabbed my ex’s girlfriend when she walked in last night and said “Hey, ma!” very loudly. He looked annoyed. Oh wells.

I danced. Oh.my.gawd. did I dance. And then I stumbledanced to techno. I wonder if I can coin that term. Or if I would even want to…

My phonebook is trouble.

I need coffee in an IV drip. Preferably Flavia’s Intense Dark Roast.

Anything and everything I say after midnight cannot and will not be held against me. This includes texts, emails, phone calls, personal conversations and telepathic glances. The midnight stipulation is null and void if I’ve had more than three shots before midnight at which point the rule applies then and there. I guess I should also include myspace, facebook and twitter communication in here as well.

Ok, now that I’ve had my coffee and I’m eating an Oreo cookie I can go on a proper mini-rant and toot my own horn a bit in the process:

I’m fucking awesome. I know I have my quirks and I’m a bit neurotic at times, but I’m a good person, damnit. Yes, I may be stuck up, but if it weren’t for the narcissist in me I’d crumble at my own insecurities. I’m loud, but not obnoxiously loud. I’m a sweetheart. I really am. I like to make people happy. I’m a people pleaser, sometimes to a fault, and sometimes to my own advantage, but I can’t help it if I want people to like me. I’m pretty. I may not have a perfect body, but I’m pretty fucking hot. I’m a dance machine. I have a bright future ahead of me. I’m not as responsible as I’d like to be, but I’m doing a pretty damn good job with what I have. I call when I say I will and I always return texts. I feel like I should end this with “I like to go for long walks on the beach” (which I do, btw) But seriously guys, I had to write this so I don’t feel insignificant and undeserving. I feel like I should be back in middle school yelling “Why doesn’t he like meeeeeee?!” to my best friend. It’s stupid and fucking ridiculous and this is why it’s reserved to be written on my blog instead of shouted at the top of my lungs.

Ok…/ pitty-party rant.

Stage 1 was knowing it was something, yet refusing to admit it because that would mean putting the shield down and acknowledging that the potential of getting hurt was there.

Stage 2 was analyzing. Anything and everything that was said, done, texted, emailed, acted out, facially expressed, gestured, etc…was played out in my head a billion times and the possibilities of what it could have meant were made into mental lists with possible outcomes and causes. Every text message sent, every phone call made on my part were thoroughly examined and thought out before being carried out. Make sure you don’t sound to eager/clingy/available but at the same time don’t sound standoffish/rude/unavailable.

Stage 3 is mental bubbles. They resemble pop-up ads in their random content and unpredictable timing. I might be watching tv and I get a “romantic flick advertisement” bubble which will cause my face to contort into a state of frustration/stress/confusion and utter out the dreaded “I miss…” phrase. I might be at work working on a report and “triple xxx movies – get yours now” decides to creep up and take over my mind before I can click the little red x at the top. And then it’s the “call…wait, don’t, text instead…but not yet, it’s too early…oooo, happy pills half off!…ok, just wait for a call/text and then go from there…but you said you would call, then maybe you shoudl so you’re not a flake and oh…fuckmylife I’m back at stage 2…someone gimme a minderaser…”

Confused yet? Bored? Freaked out? Thinking how stupid and exhausting this process is? Yeah, me too. I just want to get to Stage 4: Letting go.

Stage 4 never gets fully reached though because while I may let go and call whenever I feel like it without thinking twice and stop thinking about what that sweet message actually meant, I will be holding on to the fact that in less than three months it will all be over. Yeah. Unavoidable. But I knew. And I chose to let go anyway. And you know what, it feels great.

Stage 1 was knowing it was something, yet refusing to admit it because that would mean putting the shield down and acknowledging that the potential of getting hurt was there.

Stage 2 was analyzing. Anything and everything that was said, done, texted, emailed, acted out, facially expressed, gestured, etc…was played out in my head a billion times and the possibilities of what it could have meant were made into mental lists with possible outcomes and causes. Every text message sent, every phone call made on my part were thoroughly examined and thought out before being carried out. Make sure you don’t sound to eager/clingy/available but at the same time don’t sound standoffish/rude/unavailable.

Stage 3 is mental bubbles. They resemble pop-up ads in their random content and unpredictable timing. I might be watching tv and I get a “romantic flick advertisement” bubble which will cause my face to contort into a state of frustration/stress/confusion and utter out the dreaded “I miss…” phrase. I might be at work working on a report and “triple xxx movies – get yours now” decides to creep up and take over my mind before I can click the little red x at the top. And then it’s the “call…wait, don’t, text instead…but not yet, it’s too early…oooo, happy pills half off!…ok, just wait for a call/text and then go from there…but you said you would call, then maybe you shoudl so you’re not a flake and oh…fuckmylife I’m back at stage 2…someone gimme a minderaser…”

Confused yet? Bored? Freaked out? Thinking how stupid and exhausting this process is? Yeah, me too. I just want to get to Stage 4: Letting go.

Stage 4 never gets fully reached though because while I may let go and call whenever I feel like it without thinking twice and stop thinking about what that sweet message actually meant, I will be holding on to the fact that in less than three months it will all be over. Yeah. Unavoidable. But I knew. And I chose to let go anyway. And you know what, it feels great.

So Saturday I dropped the kids off in Corpus and off they went to spend spring break in Austin.  I cried on my way back because as much as I say I wish I had more “me” time, I love having the little boogers around. 

By the time I got home, six hours and thirty minutes later….I was exhausted.  Stayed in.  Been partying in the beach ever since, though.  Whoo whoo!!

Now, this is where I need someone to tell me this: “stop over-analyzing, relax and just have fun.”

Why?

Because the past two hours in my head have been like this:

Well, that was super sweet!  He totally didn’t have to do that, but he did!
Oy, here we go back to the dirty talk…is that all he wants me for? 
And if it is, what the hell do I care if I want it too, right?
But no, bcs then that puts me in a category where I dont’ want to be.
But who gives a shit about categories, after all, look who’s putting you there…
Aw, again, so f’ing sweet!  If all he wanted was that he wouldn’t act like this…
Maybe he’s just a genuinly nice guy…who likes to talk dirty…ahem

OK.  I NEED A CHILL PILL.  NOW.

btw…this weekend’s brownies were HELLA AWESOME!!!!  Oh, and I got to see 1 boob.  Yeah, not one pair, just one boob.  That’s all the chick would flash.  Random!

How was your weekend???

Have my previous good looks gone way too far up my head?  What’s going on here?  I can’t see to wrap my pretty little head around this.

I mean, I know I’m no Adriana Lima or Eva Mendez, but I’ve always considered myself to be attractive.  I get attention.  Not the kind I’m looking for, but attention nonetheless.  But why is it that when I’m actually interested/attracted to a guy…they seem to want to have nothing to do with me?  Am I fugly?

It happens time and time again.  I go out with my friends and they all get the guy they’ve been eyeing all night.  Me?  I get the scared look.  Like I’m trying to have their baby or something.  No, not really.  It’s more the eye contact avoidance.  And this is from just glancing at a guy, not even talking or smiling or anything.  WTF?!  I’m frustrated.  It’s pissing me off. 

Am I not aggressive enough?  Should I walk around with a sign that says “Not looking for a boyfriend, I just wanna dance”?  Or should I just resign myself to accepting that the only guys that want anything to do with me are a)married b)ugly or c)psychotic?

It’s not like I’m putting out a trashy vibe.  I’m not putting out an “I’m too pretty for you” one either.  So what gives?

Am I just getting desperate?  WTF?  Answer me people!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!