Emotional Russian Roulette

Well, not really, but my subconscious hates me!

Even though I haven’t seen or talked to John Doe in around six months, he was in my dream last night, and my subconscious was NOT kind to me.

Basically our parents were meeting and BFFs because him and I were going to build a life together – I mean, literally the exact opposite of reality in every possible way.  Very few times I wake up and immediately want to cry, but today was one of them.  I haven’t thought about him in a while but that didn’t stop some part of me deciding to go ahead and drag me back to 2007.  That’s cool, whatever.

Don’t you worry, I am not clinging to the hope that he’ll every change his mind, but I think what’s truly prevented me from fully accepting that and moving on is because I’m lacking any type of closure.  It’s more gutting than anything that we can’t be friends or have a normal, adult conversation.  And I know I need to just realize it will never happen but it makes me so sad.  On the bright side, it’s almost 1 pm and I’ve refrained from crying at work, so there’s that.


Text Message Translation Generator

Well, not really but…it has been brought to my attention that there is a web site out there, HeTexted, where random chickadees post texts they get from guys and then ask for advice to interpret them.

I mean…I just…WHAT?

Pasting the text into Google and hitting search would garner the same results.  I am at a loss for words that this web site exists.

Here are some examples of what chicas are submitting:
So, after posting the screen grab of the text (which, by the way, you can tweet, add to Facebook, or “pin”), it ends with “So now I’m wondering…” and they ask a question and readers submit their advice.  You also have the option to “ask a bro.”

Why in asinine website hell does this fucking joke of a site exist?  I don’t mean to be harsh (wait, yes I do), but if you have to ask what he meant, the answer is always HE DOESN’T FUCKING LIKE YOU, MOVE THE FUCK ON.

Yes, I’m bitter and jaded, why do you ask?

In the above example, he says exactly what he means – he wants to have sex without a commitment.  She’s wondering the following (cut and pasted so the grammatical errors are NOT mine): i still havent heard from him two days after this. what is going on?

Here are some of the gem responses:

(This person clearly has a Ph.D in fucking Text Messaging and Your Relationship.)

A. Don’t have these type of conversations via text message. At the very least say your thoughts/worries over email. It will always end badly and lead no where.

B. Keeping in mind this is out of context…you didn’t ask if there was something wrong (again, better question to ask in person), you also assumed he was a manwhore immediately based on his ‘strange’ behavior. The entire exchange is passive aggressive.

C. If he is ignoring you and there is nothing serious going on, then do the same; The chasing should be mutual. Not being serious means you both get to do whatever you want and not be questioned about it when you’re together.

D. Get him in person and just be direct about what you both want. Come to a compromise or go your separate ways.

(This response was clearly written by John Doe and talking about me – yet it’s simple and accurate):

Stop being a floozy and annoying him.

(This response is fucking delusional):

He likes you more than he wants to.

No he does NOT  like you more than he wants to, that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.  When John Doe’s friend told me, “he pushes away the people he cares about the most,” I think she was just trying to placate my crazy.

Here’s another one:

Um, okay, chica girl, if he can’t even TEXT you that he loves you, that’s a problema.  And here’s what she’s wondering:


I’ve been with him for 3 years…. All I get is awe. Is he in to me? Or not really? I was always good and loyal never did anything… I just feel strange that there’s not more than that or are guys like that?
And the responses:
(This one is making my eyes bleed so I can’t comment on the actual advice):
cut all contacts with him.. don’t initiate any conversation anymore, if he cares abt u he would so anything to get u back( even coming right to ur work place or house).. if he doesn’t txt or anything then seriously ask urself y the fuck he still matters to u., u don’t need a guy like that in ur life.. there MUST b a guy who says I love u to u every single day.. just try ignoring him completely for a couple weeks and see how he reacts
(This one is spot on, submitted by a dude):
If you need a website to tell you how the guy you’ve been with for three years feels about you, it’s not a good sign for the rel.
Thank you, random dude, for making my point – if you need a WEBSITE to tell you how a person feels about you, all signs point to you need to get a fucking hobby.
(This one was submitted from someone born in the 1800’s):
Generally, guys arnt that willing to show there emotions as it is seen as feminen, but if you have been togeather for 3 years you have the right to expect it, just not all the time.
(This response is the best):
All I have to say to you… FIND ANOTHER MAN
Okay, I get that sometimes you just need to vent and whine and unleash your heartbreak on the internet but COME ON.  I can’t wrap my head around the concept of this site.  Guys say what they mean – really.  Then we take it, turn into another language, and spend four hours trying to interpret its meaning when the original was all you ever needed to know.
This one might be my favorite:
I can’t even….


ok so…i like REALLY like this guy. we have a great connection, and i’m really falling for him. i really want to get to know him better but he is always so busy with work and lives thirty three miles away. should i move closer?? i think this could really work out but i dont want to move all the way out there and have my heart broken. thoughts??
(This is the best response EVER):
Reading stuff like this makes me sad. It sucks being ‘that girl.’ Whatever you do, do NOT text him again. DO NOT.
(Or maybe this one is):
Grade A douchebag. SHUT IT DOWN.
(No, I think it is this one):
Are you nuts? Why would you suggest meeting your parents? He said nah to that and you said Miss you???? He probably thinks you’re crazy! I think he’s “cool” with sex but not any other part of you……..you gotta find someone else and maybe go on some dates and introduce him to your rents before you jump into bed with him…
(This person is awesome and probably shares my opinion about 50 Shades of WTF):
I don’t think the comment ‘sex was cool’ can be any more degrading. Please, never talk to him again, unless he has an EXTREME PERSONALITY CHANGE. I mean like, something completely life-altering.
Actually, I am pretty sure that is word-for-word what Katie has told me about JD, Mr. Titspervert, etc etc etc.  Lather rinse repeat.  Maybe I hate this site so much because it’s my love life flashing before my eyes.
Yeah, that’s probably it.

Why don’t you tell me I’m pretty??

When I lived in my old apartment at 2020 N Hell, we often threw epic parties.  It started with “Fall into Fall ’07”, which was such a success that we also created Spring into Spring the next two years, in addition to at least two more Fall into Falls.

Here is a glimpse of what our fridge looked like before one of our parties:

Who needs food when you can just serve jello shots??

Out of all of our parties, my personal favorite, by far, was Spring into Spring, 2009.  While we didn’t throw it until the last weekend of May, that’s still spring, technically speaking.

That was the first, last, and only time John Doe was at my apartment.  I guilted him into showing up because it was my psuedo birthday celebration (not that he knew when my birthday was.  I had to remind him).

He didn’t get there until around 2 am, and showed up with his friend Harold, who none of my friends could stand.  Actually, none of them could stand John Doe either, but they tolerated him through gritted teeth because they knew it was important to me and they’re amazing.

The party was still going strong when they got there – so much so that as I let them in, JD pointed out that someone had puked on our stairs on their way out of the party.  Gross.  (We never did figure out who the culprit was and Steph earned a mega gold star for attempting to clean it up since our landlord would have taken weeks to do it, if he even did.)

At one point, I was sitting on his lap when he looks at me and says, “that’s an interesting dress.”

With about eight gallons of liquid courage in me, I responded, “John, why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty?”  He said something along the lines of, “I assume you knew I thought that.”  Well when you NEVER compliment me, no, I don’t.

Anyway, I decided to put on his Red Sox hat with my “interesting” dress, the result of which is the below:

As you can see, there is nothing whatsoever interesting about this dress.  It’s just plain and black.

I can’t remember if this was taken before or after Courtney pulled me off his lap and dragged me into the kitchen to yell at me.  Good times.

Revisiting Ninth Grade

One of the things I love about Twitter is the things you can learn and the people you can meet (one of the things I hate is that it inevitably also sends in the clowns, but that’s neither here nor there).

One of the lovely people I follow on Twitter, Ms. Pink Funk, tweeted the following and inspired this blog post:

So, I couldn’t even do that NOW.  Let’s forget the fact that I can’t name an endangered species off the top of my head with 100% confidence, but when Melissa invited a bunch of us over to help with her centerpieces for her wedding earlier in the summer, it quickly became apparent I could not be trusted with anything more difficult than putting the gift bags together, because I am not artistic or good at anything in the realm of that.  So.  Yeah.  And this project is for first graders?  Really??  That seems extreme.

But, that did remind me of two ninth grade projects I had that my dad flat out 100% did for me.  Why, you ask?  Why would he offer to do so or why would your mother allow such a deplorable act?

It was because of Mr. Salmi.

Ahh Mr. Salmi.  He taught Accelerated Physical Science, which my mom forced me to take (something about challenges being good even though I am inept at math and science).  But, I use the term “taught” loosely.  Our notebook organization was, no joke, 50% of our grade and we spent each and every class answering chapter summary questions, which we then had to file behind “double zero pink” (our notebook sections had to be separated by color) – anyone from Rundlett with me here?

Anyhoo – project #1 rolls around and it’s something about having to create a water tester (I was in 9th grade 10* years ago, bear with me here).

*=not really

I can’t remember the specifics, only that we had zero practical knowledge of how to do this – how could you possibly after reading irrelevant book chapters?  So, my Dad made it for me.  And I got a 100.

Project #2 was even worse and more asinine, considering, again, all Salmi cared about was fucking double zero pink and if it was filed in our notebooks correctly.  He asked us to make a brick powered car.  Yeah, you read that right – a brick powered car.

First of all – fuck you, Salmi!  If you had given us a MODICUM of practice on how to do this it wouldn’t have been as unreasonable.  I should have somehow powered the brick power car with “double zero pink” rather than an actual brick, you know, to really stick it to him.

Anyway, I got a 100% on that, too (thanks, Dad) – and Salmi was none the wiser.

It’s not that I am not willing to work, either.  It was just that he gave us projects with no foundation whatsoever and just sat back and watched us suffer.

My junior year of high school, we had a huge project in my English class.  Something about reading someone’s biography and then completing one of five project choices.  Well, it’s maybe a month-long project or something and the night before it’s due I realize I hadn’t started.  Soooo, one of the options was to write a short story.  My subject was Charles Lindbergh.  So what do I do?  Whip up five pages of bullshit about him and Amelia Earhart falling in love, which garnered a 97.  My mom was FURIOUS that I waited until the last minute and got such a high grade to therefore reinforce my behavior – but at least I did it myself.

Parenthood – the older I get, the harder I realize it is.

Um, yeah, no

I don’t talk much about politics because it is such a social landmine.  One minute you’re laughing it up over the latest episode of Dancing With the Former Bachelorettes and the next minute someone’s all, “this is economy is Bush’s fault” and someone else is all, “what the fuck EVER dude, it’s totally Obama’s fault”, a screaming match ensues, and everyone’s night is ruined.

However, this editorial in the NYTimes struck a nerve.  If elected, Mitt Romney is going to (presumably) try to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Now, I am not here to fly a feminist flag or start talking about free love in the 1970’s or whatever.

What it boils down to is this:  I do not want or feel it is necessary for crotchety old conservative assholes to tell me what I can and cannot do with my lady business.  It’s MY health, my choice, my life, etc.  I am not here to advocate abortion, either.  I don’t believe in using it as a form of birth control (as in, “I don’t need to use [insert preferred method here] because I can just get an abortion”), but I don’t believe that Romney and Co. should work to overturn something that’s so important.  It’s our right as women to decide.

Per the NYT article:

They would depart slightly from the extremist Republican Party platform by allowing narrow exceptions for rape, incest or the life of the woman. Beyond that, they would move to take away a fundamental right that American women have had for nearly 40 years.

What about the life of the baby?  What if you find out your child has an awful deformity while you’re pregnant and could not live past a certain point?  Or might not make it out alive?

Romney wants to kick this back to the individual states.  You know, how it was 50 years ago.

My fear is that will be good for no one except the aforementioned crotchety old men.  I guess all we can do is vote!

The Sound of Silence – Thoughts of an Insomniac

I woke up around 3:30 this morning to go to the bathroom and then had a hard time falling back asleep right away.

So many thoughts were racing through my head; thoughts such as:

Wow.  It’s so quiet.  If I woke up at 3:30 am at my old place, henceforth known as 2020 N Hell, I’d hear music blasting from the Beaumont and people screaming at each other in the street.

Which reminds me, I wonder if that couple I heard fighting in the street once at 4am on a Wednesday ever made it.  Guy: “GET IN THE FUCKING CAR.”  Girl:  “FUCK YOU!”  Lather, rinse, repeat.

My lower back hurts.  I wonder if I can procure illegal painkillers.

I need more coffee mugs.

And wine glasses.

It is SO quiet.  The sound of silence is wonderful.

Great.   Now I have that song stuck in my head.

At least it’s a good song!

But it still reminds me of that scene from Kingpin

So, there you have it – it’s no wonder it took me so long to fall back asleep.  My mind was racing out of control.


I know just yesterday I was pontificating over whether or not I would actually read 50 Shades of Bad Metaphors, Descriptions, Analogies, and Characters I Want to Punch In the Face, and was actually leaning towards YES, so I could be educated in what I was trashing.

But then.

Last night, I was enjoying a nice glass of Layer Cake Malbec (no seriously, best Malbec ever), when I decided to yet again see if I could read an excerpt online that didn’t involve 15 orgasms in a row.

The Today Show, I guess, posted an excerpt from Chapter One.  So, the main chickadee turned nympho, Anastasia, is interviewing this Christian Grey person and asks him about his business:

“You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?” I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

“Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare. “My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is it’s always down to good people.”

I’m sorry, what?  That is the most nonsensical answer I’ve ever read, and was clearly written by someone who doesn’t understand business (crappy plots, yes, business, no).  He just word vomited about having successful employees, which yes, drives a business, but that’s not REALLY the answer to her question, is it?  ARGH.  If I asked my boss “to what do you owe your success?” I would get a much better and coherent answer that actually answered my question.

Then, it gets better:

“Maybe you’re just lucky.” This isn’t on Kate’s list—but he’s so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.
“I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Steele. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said, ‘The growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’ ”  (Ed note: Again, nothing about actual business principles, etc – just a lot of BS to get around answering a question.  Then again, maybe this IS more realistic than I thought)

“You sound like a control freak.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele,” he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.

Seriously, an 8th grader could have written this nonsense.

Of course I’m jealous of the woman who wrote it – she has all three books on the NYT Bestseller list, she’s made millions, and all those freaks from Twilight are falling over themselves to be in the movies, etc.  I’d LOVE to be in her position.

I have to admit, I did LOVE that “Miss Steele” literally tripped over herself and fell INTO Christian’s office – sounds exactly like something I would do (have done, will do again, etc) – finally, a slice of reality in the otherwise pie of “WTF are you talking about, lady????”


Wait, WHAT?

Um, I don’t know how I’m just now finding out about this but apparently there is a Fifty Shades of Grey classical album.  I imagine it’s just the music they use for Cinemax porn on a continuous loop.  As I write this, I am sitting here simultaneously trying to not cry, vomit, or choke on my own bile.

E.L. James celebrated the release with a Q & A (involving handcuffs, natch) at the Soho House in NYC.  Classy.

I have remained steadfast in my refusal to read the Twilight series (from which this bottom-feeding garbage called 50 Shades of I am physically ill was spawned).  My mom, bless her heart, read the first one, so she could relate better to her teenage girls (she’s a pediatric nurse practitioner) and said the first one was so BAD she couldn’t bring herself to read the rest.  Actual quote:  “if I had to read that he turned pale and gripped something ONE MORE TIME, I was going to scream!  Can’t you use a different description?”

So, the fact that Fifty Shades of I don’t give a flying fuck was Twilight FAN FICTION made it an automatic “no'” in my book.  I mean, some Twihard in a chat room wrote this complete garbage that has been a bestseller for 30 weeks, is getting turned into a movie, and now has a soundtrack.  She’s like a pornographic Danielle Steel.

And here it is, still a New York Times bestseller because why WOULDN’T we want to read about a girl who values herself so little that she engages in freaky sadomasochistic sex with some rich dude who is too beautiful to leave until she leaves him and then maybe comes back?  I’m not sure.  Because I haven’t read them.  Although, maybe, similar to my plan for the next Bachelor, I SHOULD read this garbage so I can review it on my own and actually KNOW what I’m trashing rather than trash it based on concept alone.

Someone, I can’t remember who, directed me to THIS BRILLIANT review (aptly titled 50 Shades of WTF)

The chick who wrote this is hysterical and I would like to share my favorite excerpt below:

Now I’ll be totally honest, the biggest issue I have with Fifty Shades of Shit is neither the sex nor the horrible writing. It’s the plot. Thin as it is, it’s still there, its core message being that, given enough time, you can change someone. While I don’t have any problem with this if all you’re trying to do is help them to lose weight or quit smoking, when you’re talking about an emotionally and (dangerously close to) physically abusive relationship, sending that kind of message is ridiculous and irresponsible. Christian is controlling, possessive, condescending, and cruel. He doesn’t allow Ana to behave as she normally would, and Ana just puts up with it, insistent that if she can give him what he wants, when he wants, as often as he wants, she can eventually begin to pull his strings. Will it work? In the books, probably. In real life? No. Almost never. How many idiotic, weak women are going to waste their lives on some emotionally retarded prick because they’ve read shit like this and think this kind of fucked-up fairytale will come true for them? I’ve known women with this mentality. “Oh, he’s so dark and dangerous and threatening, but he’s got a sad, lonely side, and if I could just figure out what’s wrong, I could change him!”

I know this sentiment all too well, specifically with John Doe, thinking that if I loved him enough, I could change him and make him realize that he DID actually want to be in a relationship and eventually marry me rather than kicking me out of his apartment at three in the morning.  At least this Christian dude lets what’s-her-name spend the night (I’m assuming.  But not sure).  But you can’t change a person that hates themselves so much that they can’t help but hate the people who love them (shut up, that makes sense).  So the fact that this concept within the book has women foaming at the mouth and talking about this being some amazing love story is troublesome, to say the least.

But, my apprehension getting the better of me (as in, do I REALLY want to subject myself to this complete mess of a trilogy, I googled “50 Shades of Grey excerpts” and came across this:

” ‘Why don’t you like to be touched?’ I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. ‘Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.’ ” (369)

No.  No no no no and did I mention NO?  It’s pretty safe to say that my original assessment that these books are steaming piles of garbage is accurate and I don’t need to read them to prove to myself that I would HATE them.

As I was saying…

In case you didn’t know – I hate The Bachelor.  

Yesterday, one of the most recent couples broke up – Ben something and Courtney something else.

Let this little tidbit of info sink in:

For those keeping score, after 16 seasons of The Bachelor, and seven seasons of The Bachelorette, only three couples are still together.

I can’t even name the three!  Jason and Molly is one, but he didn’t even pick her in the final ceremony, he picked Melissa, and then broke up with her on national TV.  That’s class, right there.  I know the other couple is Trista & Ryan.  I guess the most recent Bachelorette and her dude haven’t technically broken up, but it’s coming!

My friends Shannon and Kevin had a great idea though – when season 17 starts, I am going to blog about it.  Actually watch the whole season and provide episode recaps with an “amazing journey” counter.  (Apparently they say that a lot).

I think it’s a great idea – not because I think this season will be different, but to prove that it will be exactly the same as all the other ones.

Fake as fake can be.


Not the female Tucker Max

I was in one of the bookstores at Ogilvie this morning buying yet ANOTHER umbrella (because the light sprinkle when I walked out of my apartment was not enough motivation to go back inside and get one but of course turned into a monsoon.  Of course.) when I walked by the latest Tucker Max book – Sloppy Seconds: The Tucker Max Leftovers.

Okay, FIRST of all, NO.

Second of all – really?

When I first moved to Chicago, my roommate lent me I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, which I thought was hilarious.  I think in between he’s also written Assholes Finish First (sadly true), and Hilarity Ensues, neither of which I had read.

When I first started telling people about my book and how it would chronicle how the metaphor for my dating life is something along the lines of Mrs. O’Leary’s cow, a lot of people would say, “OH!  Great idea!  So you’re kind of like the female Tucker Max!”, and I’d say “EXACTLY!”

Except: no.  No I am not.

I haven’t slept with THOUSANDS of people, I haven’t fucked a dude in a port-o-potty, I haven’t been banned for life from the Embassy Suites for shitting in the lobby and I certainly have not gone out with my friends with the intent of getting into fights, arrested, or to see who could make the most people cry.

I’m not saying he shouldn’t have written three books (though the movie was of questionable judgement)  – they’ve obviously sold well.  I just cannot possibly compare myself to him (not that I SERIOUSLY was).

I doubt my book will sell that well…or at all…or get published so that’s another reason I’m not the female Tucker Max.

The worst part of this is that now I’m probably going to read his other books out of morbid curiosity.  Sigh.