Remember when you could have sleep overs?

Amanda broke it off with her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend.
She called me in a panic on Saturday.
"I did it," she said almost panting, "I broke it off, I was scared, but I did it."
"Did what?" I asked confused.
"I broke it off with Aaron."
"Aren't you already broken up with him?"
"Yes, but I broke it off from emotional attachment."
"What do you mean?"
"Even though he and I were broken up, I still bought him groceries, picked him up from work, brought him things, watched movies in his room, slept next to him at night. I quit all of it. He doesn't believe me, but I did, I told him, he laughed, but I did it."
"Oh my, good for you, I think this is the step in the right direction."

Later on that evening at 3AM she came into the bar.
"Oh my, Amanda, what are you doing here?"
"I can't sleep. And so I'm walking to Qudoba, do you want anything?"
"Uh, no, but on your way back you should stop back by."
"OK I will."

At four, she showed up with half a burrito and a smile.
"Still feeling good about breaking it off?"
"Yep! I am feeling good."
She sat with two of my co-workers and myself until almost 5. At 5 we went to her apartment and watched a show. After that we both went to bed.

Sunday she called and invited me to watch Casablanca at her apartment.
I left after it was over and ran into Megan.
"I broke it off with Andy."
No, hellos or anything.
"What?! Are you serious?"
"Yea, I was ready for it. I needed to be away from him for awhile."
"But... you've been together for 6 years."
"I know, it was time."
"I'm impressed you are a strong woman."
"You just ended it with Joe."
"I know, but I pushed his buttons repeatedly until he dumped me."
"Still, you knew what you wanted and you did something about it."
(pause)
"Do you want someone else?"
"Yes, but not at the moment, I have some recovery time."
"I understand."

In a matter of 1.5 weeks, three girls ended it with 1 to 6 year relationships.
I wonder if it is something in the air?

Joe and I officially broke up last night.
I was drunk, said some things I don't remember (probably honesty) and he moved me out.

I'm kind of relieved. It was something that had been bothering me for a long time now.
I will only miss my dog because I can't take him with me.
Other than that, I'm happy to not be hit, have things thrown at me, be screamed at, etc.

No, please, tell me what you REALLY think.

Lately, I say whatever I feel like.
Honest, maybe.
Stupid, probably.
Makes-me-feel-fantastic-because-it-hasn't-bitten-me-in-the-ass, definitely.

It started with the bar job ego boost.
Followed by the man hitting on me ego boost.
Completed by having female friends who are real and encourage me to be myself.
Suddenly, I could care less what people think of me.
I should make an amendment to that.
I greatly care what my friends think of me, or my family.
If they told me I was out of control, then I would stop without hesitation.

This brings me to last night.
Last night, a guy who likes me asked me to "save him" from his ex-girlfriend.

His ex-girlfriend:
1.) has two kids.
2.) has a crazy HUSBAND (they are getting a divorce, at some point).
3.) has been in the bar he and I work out every night since they broke up (it was a two month relationship).
4.) calls him incessantly.
5.) has waited outside the bar, after we locked, waiting for this guy to come out.
6.) has hit on every single one of his friends to try to get his attention.

He:
1.) has eaten enough acid in his day to make himself retarded.
2.) has tried to hit on me every time he's drunk no matter if I'm single or not.
3.) has told everyone at the bar that he's annoyed by her.
4.) has told her that he doesn't want anything to do with her.
5.) has acted like a 12 year old in a 38 years old's body.
6.) has not gotten the clue that there is no way I would date him. Even after telling him that I would rather dig my eye out with a spoon than date him (see what I mean about saying how I feel?)

That being said, last night I closed bar and he stuck around until after the last customer left (he's allowed, he's an employee). While sitting there (at 1 am) I heard his phone ring, I was counting money but I heard him make an audible sigh. I ignored him. Two minutes later his phone rang again. Another sigh. Another ignore. One minute later, another ring. Sigh. Ignore. Three minutes after that, another ring, sigh, and a slamming down of the phone. This time I turned around. "Are you calling yourself repeatedly?"
"No! Why would I do that?"
"To make her look desperate to be with you."
"No, I would rather not have this headache."
"Of dialing your own number?"
"Of her calling me!"
"Give me your phone." (checks phone, 4 missed calls from her.)
"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ."
"Jesus was a Roosevelt?"
"Shut up. Its my saying don't bring me down. Can I answer her next call?"
"Sure, what are you going to say?"
"Whatever I feel like."
"Go for it. I'm tired of this. The meaner I get, the more she calls."

I turn and count money again. His phone beeps, and again immediately afterwards.
I turn around and look at him.
"Text messages from her."
I nod and get back to counting. Beep. Beep. I put the money into the drawer. Beep. Beep. I close up the drawer and start running reports. Beep. Beep.
I turn around.
"Give me the fucking phone."
"What?"he says reading the last text message, probably responding.
"Give. Me. The. Phone."
"What are you going to say?"
"What you should have told her already."
He hands the phone over and I hit talk twice.
"Hey Dick!"
"Uh, this isn't him."
"Who the fuck is this?"
"This is Ophelia."
"ok...."
"Pat thinks you are suffocating him and he doesn't want you to call anymore. This is something he's told everyone and I thought you should know."
"Oh.. gee. THANKS Ophelia." (heavy sarcasm)
"No problem! Bye now."
Hangs up.

I should learn to mind my own business, but G.D. did that not feel good.

Lunch time gossip.

One of my co-workers is in love with me.
He's told Nicole, Megan and now Amanda that he is.
He might have told Laura but she's one of those people that if you ask, 'Can you keep a secret?' not only will she respond 'Yes' but she'll actually keep the secret, even when everyone knows the secret later on.

I have not encouraged him, in fact, I've insulted him to his face.

Today I had lunch with my friend Amanda who told me that her ex-boyfriend (who she lives with) is completely pissed for not coming home the night before.
"You didn't come home?"
"No, I stayed out."
"Why?"
"I was drunk."
"Ok, but usually you walk home when you get drunk."
"I know."
"I'm missing something."
"I went and got high with Pat."
"What? Really?"
"Yea, anyway, so how are you and Joe doing?"

It was a blatant change of subject so I went with it.

"Good, I told him last night I was going to move out one day when he wasn't at home."
"Really? Good for you!"
"Yea, now I just have to follow through with it."
"Yea..."

"So, that night, Pat told me he was in love with you."
"Surprise!" (very sarcastic)
"I know, I told him that if he told you that he hung out with me, that he'd have no chance with you."
"He doesn't have a chance anyway."
"I know, but still, don't talk to him about it."
"Ok..."

"Hey, Brad told Nicole that you were dating Grosso." I said in an attempt to change the subject.
"Hahahaha, wow, two weeks later that rumor is just now surfacing?"
"Brad's really not in the gossip group unless he happens to be present at an event."
"Sweet, no one is talking about me and Pat and they are just talking about me and Grosso."
"Yep..."


Call it woman's intuition, but I believe that Amanda might have made a mistake with Pat and slept with him.

I would rather trust a woman's instinct than a man's reason.

I have never had many female friends. I always thought it was because I was a tom boy, interested in different things, and not interested in the games women play with each other.
I was always interested in how I could manipulate the man.

Recently, I looked upon my life and realized, very startling, that that wasn't true of me anymore. I have four women in my life that I trust. I don't know if I could ever say I had two women I could trust. I usually had all guy friends. When they were busy with their girlfriends or I was trying to avoid them (because they were in love with me) I would busy myself with my books, or learning a new computer language, or watching my favorite Audrey Hepburn movie. I knew I was happy to be alone, so obviously nothing was missing.
I was wrong.

Today, if I got off work, cleaned my apartment and decided I didn't want to watch a movie or read a book, I could do a number of things with one of the four women:
1. I could call Amanda and watch Project Runway, Top Model, or Weeds and drink PBR.
2. I could call Laura and if she wasn't working I could see her puppy, go wig shopping, or peruse Goodwill for a Halloween costume.
3. I could call Nicole and if she wasn't working I could watch a football game, convince her to come out to the bars, or ask her to beat up my soon to be ex-boyfriend (she is also in the Halloween planning).
4. I could call Megan and go out to the bars to see a live band play, play cards, or help her with her art project.

All different women, all different opinions, all amazing.
There was something missing. Women aren't scary. They don't try to back stab you, they will go out and drink with you, and most of all, I think that they'll be there in the end when the guy you like turns out to be someone you don't.

They'll even help you take off your husband's head!

I'm not dying therefore I will not eat light ranch.

I told a random lady today that I had breast cancer.
She leaned over to me while I was relaxing against a wall, sucking on a cigarette, and said, "You know, you are killing yourself slowly."

I hate people who
1. push religion
2. try to sell me things
3. and people who tell me exactly how to behave in life, as if, they are perfect beings themselves.

This lady looks like she doesn't brush her teeth, so my first instinct was to say, "Do you know your teeth are rotting?" Instead, I sighed, pushed the rotting remark out of my head and said, "Well, the cancer will kill me first." She, thinking she had won, smartly said, "That's what I mean! Cigarettes give you cancer. OK, the cancer is really what will kill you, but it will be because you are smoking."

People with this much conviction should have been running from my second hand smoke, not standing within a foot of it. It was obvious that this woman just got her jollies from making other people hate her.

"I meant my breast cancer," I said, trying to look pathetic, "I just found out today I have it. I expected it all along because it runs in the family, but I never thought I'd get it at 25! What am I going to do? I'm too young to die. I don't even smoke, I just thought, 'Why not?' I'm already a lost cause."
I looked at her pleadingly.
She was obviously uncomfortable and had no idea what to say.
"Oh, um, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
She walked off.
I held my pathetic look until she was around the corner and then I smiled to myself.

I'm on the fast track to hell, mon amie.

Enough about you, lets talk about me.

I'm super hung over right now.
I can't wait until I begin work in an hour.

I have ignored the phone calls of all my girl friends.
I feel like puking.

Anyone got any good ideas to cure this?

I can take apart the remote control, and I can almost put it back together.

I have a Myspace friend.
Doesn't that sound creepy?
I suddenly feel like a 13 year old girl who has a sexual predator just by saying that.
The powers of Myspace are vast.

Anyway, I've had this same friend for 3 years. I have met him once, by accident, while I was drunk. He lives in the same town as me and he's about 8 years older than me. I have no idea what he does for a living but his side business is artwork. He knows what I do for a living but still likes to pretend I'm a body building midget who is 43 and divorced.
Because that's what my profile says I am.

Anyway, one day he was pursuing the internet after moving to Indiana from Philadelphia and decided that maybe Myspace would be one way to see what people looked like in this town. He started searching, and came across my profile from a mutual friend of ours (I worked with her at the time, he lived with one of her best friends). Intrigued by midgets in Indiana, he sent me a messaged asking if I worked in a local circus and asked if the girl in the profile picture was my sister. I responded with "Yes, she is my twin sister and I work actually as the world's first ever midget tight rope walker."
He had me at circus.
I started sending him messages him once every week and he did the same in return. Sometimes the messages were all about random nonsense. Other times we'd talk about friends, family, significant others.
A year after "meeting" him, I went to a local bar with my friends. I saw the girl that was our mutual friend. I froze turned to look at the table she was leaving from, and locked eyes with him.
Complete movie magic.
I walked over to him.
He said, "You don't look like a midget."
I mumbled something about how the internet is a fun place to lie on.
"You sleep on the internet?"
Nervous laugh.
And at some point very close after that, I left saying I had to hang out with my friends.
We didn't talk for 6 months.
No more e-mails or random meetings.
It was my fault. He was a lot cuter in real life and I got nervous and crashed landed at my friend's table that night.
I told myself it didn't matter because I had a boyfriend who I cared about.
6 months later I didn't care about that boyfriend.
I sent him a message.
Another 1.5 years of messages, sometimes frequent, sometimes a month apart in space.
When I get, "Do you have any cool witty friends like yourself that like to drinK that would love to be entertained by me?"

What about myself?

Pervert McGee

I work with a gentleman who is suddenly trying very hard to receive my attention.
Wait, I didn't mean a gentleman.
He's a pervert.

He's the sort of person that will give his attention to who ever pulls their tits out first.

I worked during the day on Wednesday.
Guess who brought me milk and cookies? Pervert McGee, that's who. I got the bad kind of goosebumps when I got it. The kind that make you want to scrub your arms raw to get rid of the feeling.
"Thanks..." I meekly said.
He looked proud of himself.

Later two of my girl friends came in to drink. One showed up unexpectedly, the other sent me a text message and brought her boyfriend. One of them cattily said, "Oh Pervert McGee, I'll come by later and get half naked for you."
He grinned and pointed a finger in the air to indicate he would return in a minute.
She looked at me, "There is no way I'd ever get naked for that man."
I agreed and so did my other friend.
The three of us turned and looked at McGee and it made him get goosebumps that probably made his pants feel funny.
"Yuk" said one friend.
"Gross" said the other.
"I think he likes me," I said.

The two looked at me in disgust.
"What? Its not like I can choose who likes me or doesn't."
"Yea, but discourage that as much as possible."
"Tell him that you aren't interested."
"I WORK with him, I can't just say those things, he gets upset and then I have one co-worker out of 6 that is upset with me, making that percentage really high in who hates me at my job."
"Oh..."
(Pause)
"When's the wedding?"

I love my friends, but really, I have no desire to have sex with an acid-induced retard who is an immature pervert.
I don't care what they say.

Fucker

So I found out that Mr. I don't call you back, was actually getting back together with his girlfriend.
Why didn't he just tell me that?
Who knows, but it made me realize how careful I need to be when it comes to men.

Welcome to the single life.

My boyfriend threw me into a wall.
He's telling me he's going to go seek help.
I'm guessing I'll be single by this time next month.
When I was coming to this conclusion it was only natural that suddenly I looked around and noticed single men for the first time.

Who am I bullshitting?

I mean, I suddenly realized that I could possibly DATE some of the single men I had already noticed.

One in particular I went so far as to make out with.
Guess what happened?
Yea, I never heard from him again.
Whatever.
The next guy who hit on me was even worse.
His friend leaned over and told him he couldn't hang out with me because he had chlamydia. His friend then told me that the both of them had chlamydia from sleeping with the same girl.

Maybe being thrown into a wall isn't so bad after all.

Fuckwit and pervert - define and examples

Fuck•wit \'fek-,wit\ n: a mean, selfish, insensitive, and otherwise uncaring prick.
Example: Most of my ex boyfriends.


Per•vert \ pur-vert\ n: An immature loser who can take any sentence and somehow make it about sex.
Example: Most of the men in the bar I work at.