bitch

Last night I had a girly chat with a friend who gave me the best compliment I have probably ever received, she told me that when she is bored or feeling down she goes to my facebook and reads my statuses because they literally have her rolling in laughter. I could not have been more honored.

Then she told me this: "what I love most about you is that you're really mean but everyone seems to love you because its like they don't get that you're insulting them, they think you're really being supportive and nice."

I thought about this for a while and realized.......

its definitely true.

Exhibit one: we shall call him toolbox, because he was not a tool ladies and gentleman, he was the WHOLE box. From the wrenches to the pliers, the hammers to the saws. Our conversations often went like this.

toolbox: "sometimes I cry when I'm lonely"

me: uhm you should get a dog. or a prescription.....

toolbox: "you're a sweet girl, thank you for offering me advice to help me, most people just make fun of me"

sarcasm fail.

Exhibit two: we shall call her the town whore, the village bicycle, she is a flaming whore, it you will.

town whore: "he never called me, I thought he really liked me"

me: of course, the fact that you had sex with all of his friends did not at all influence his decision to view as an easy piece of ass, I am sure he is just an asshole.

town whore: "you're always so supportive, thank you for listening"

maybe jizz kills brain cells?

Exhibit three: a skank.

Skank: "I know people are going to judge me for going out, but I only go out like every Friday and Saturday, and sometimes Thursday. My baby is only like 6 months, she doesn't even notice. I mean tonight I gave her her antibiotics and she was so looped out she totally didn't notice I left"

me: I completely understand, its so much easier when your baby is bonded to the neighbor, or your mother, or whatever family member or random stranger you left her with.

Skank: Exactly. you totally get it.

Maybe I should just start giving IQ tests before I waste my sarcasm.

So I'm dating....

I don't like dating. I don't date. In fact, for most of my life I have been the queen of hook-ups. Literally all but one of my relationships (both long and short ones) have been the result of a hook-up that didn't leave. Now before you get all Pollyanna on me, I know thats not healthy. I know thats like the whole problem with love and relationships in my generation and blah blah blah but its always worked for me, at least as effectively as real dating has worked for anyone I know (except that one friend whos married but she's the oddball)

So here is why I don't date:

Dating is stressful. There is that whole meeting a new person, under pressure. It's like a job interview but worse because at a job interview I am not deciding if I am going to let you into my vagina later or if I might want to wake up next to you and let you see my fabulous morning face. Then there is the make up and the outfit and the 'where to do we go' and 'what do we do' and do I kiss him? Does he want to kiss me?

Dating is awkward. There is something innately awkward about sitting across from someone you don't know trying to make yourself look kind of good while still being yourself. Do I tell him that funny story? Or will it make me look bad? If I drink another beer will he think I'm a drunk? Can I get drunk? I want to get drunk....he would be way more interesting if I got drunk and I probably wouldn't mind that tic over his left eye so much.

Dating is annoying. We all know that guy who doesn't go away. I told you nicely that its not you, its me. But really? It's you. I know I didn't answer your text within five minutes but there is really no need to text me again and ask if I'm mad. We all know the guys who drones in monotone about his accounting job. Not that there is anything wrong with accounting but really? It doesn't make for good conversation. I don't care that you had a salad for lunch. And please stop talking baby talk to me. "me so lonely" no dude, you so lame.


There are mail order brides so where the hell is my mail order boyfriend catalog? I know what I want and it isn't the last 12 shmoes I went on dates with (four of who I am still trying to get rid of, might I add, 72 unanswered text messages and phone calls later). I'm a pretty blunt girl, so if I said, no thanks, I actually meant it, trust me playing hard to get is not my thing. If I want you, you'll know. The whole place will probably know, and at the end of the night my neighbors will probably know too!

What's a girl got to do to find a nice flannel wearing, bearded, tattooed man, with a full set of teeth and a legal source of income. I'm not real picky....but I am real done with dating.

So I'm writing a blog now

For the sake of my poor facebook friend's news feeds, I'm going to try a blog.
I make you no promises, I mean, I cannot even commit to a hair color or keep my sink empty of dishes so I don't know how I am going to commit to writing a blog.

I just went through a break up. And by just I mean like five months ago, but I am a little slow on the whole emotional healing thing ok? So I was drunk for a while and then I was mad. And now I am supposed to be seeking inner peace says my friend Christina.
In theory I guess inner peace sounds good. It means I won't feel like punching out his front tooth anymore, right? And I probably won't feel like it would be just hysterical if someone keyed his truck. Or put regular gas in the diesel tank. (Disclaimer: I wouldn't do that, I like my clean criminal record, but a girl can dream about being a bad ass)
But then I really think about inner peace and I wonder what I would do. I mean, obviously I would have less wrinkles and maybe wouldn't have to check the mirror twelve times a day for the gray hairs I know I must be creating with all of this worrying. But I am kind of a professional stresser so what would I DO? I would probably also smoke a lot less and save a ton of money on bottles of wine.
But I am pretty sure I would just transfer my stress. Can't I just agree to not punch his tooth out and not seek inner peace?
Inner peace: it sounds like old people, grown ups, corn flakes and bran muffins. A lack of chaos and the absence of funny thoughts. None of which interests me in the least. Besides, I think they'd take away my days of the week panties and make me wear big girl ones if I achieved inner peace. No thanks.