I am in a state of panic.

I spent most of tonight making a calendar of what to study and when. When things are due and when I’ll take practice tests. I am seriously one sad song away from bawling. My chest aches.

I’m so scared.

I’m scared to take the GRE. I’m scared to apply to grad school. I’m scared I’m going to lose my job. I’m scared to leave. I’m scared to stay. I’m scared I’ll never be sure of anything ever again.

I can’t do anything except listen to this song right now.

I felt the Lord begin
To peel off all my skin
And I felt the weight within
Reveal a bigger mess
That you can’t fix

I swear, I swear I’ll go
Lead me into my home
Don’t stop, don’t ever go
I swear you’ll never know
You’ll never know

Fucking poetry. The magic happens at 2:35. Seriously, my heart hurts when it gets to that part. Music is my fucking soulmate.

I told my sister earlier, I think I just need to go for a drive and cry it out. Just let it all go. This weekend should be good for me. Road trips always make me feel better. Seeing Chi-town, Fred, Space Cowboy and Halpert can’t hurt either.

I was reminded again today that I have an amazing group of friends. Even if I didn’t come right out and say I was upset, a lot of them reached out and did little things that totally cheered me up. MFEO called and we got to talk for a minute. I heard the baby cry and I got really confused for a minute. I miss her. I’m so retardedly happy for her, but I miss her.

Do you ever jump into something head first and the second before you hit the water, suddenly think to yourself, “Hmm, maybe this wasn’t the best idea…”

Yeah. Me either.

I know everything is going to work out the way it is meant to. I actually got some sound advice from Banky tonight. He said something to the effect of whatever happens may open up a new path for me. That’s what I’m hoping for.

I was going to go into more detail about some of the other things freaking me out, but…I don’t wanna. So I’ma go spend some more time with my study guide and go to sleep.

I forgot to mention something awesome from the rehearsal dinner evening.

So we leave TB and Clark in the corn field and go back inside and down to the basement, where all the boys are sleeping. They have been going through the movies and put on The Hunchback of Notre Dame to mock. Yes. This is really happening. The girls and I are hanging out, flipping through magazines looking for hairstyles. We can’t believe they’re actually watching this. We decide we’d rather sit and wait for the other two idiots to come out of the corn. As we’re walking upstairs, Pigtails’ boyfriend let’s loose with one of the favorite quotes of the weekend. “Oh hunchback, you’ve let yourself go.” All weekend long.

Moving on…wedding day. The girls all wake up at 7:00am to go to breakfast with our lovely bride. It’s a small, hometown country diner. They have bacon gravy on the menu. BACON. GRAVY. My arteries slammed shut just reading that. So of course we had to try it. Not as epic as one would hope.

After a nice breakfast, we head back to the farm to wait/nap/shower before hair time. I grab about 20 minutes of half sleep before I have to shower. We head off to the salon and I have never in my life seen someone handle my hair like this. My hair does not curl. DOES. NOT. CURL. She whipped through my whole head with a curling iron and made these perfect ringlets in no time. It looked awesome. I was shocked.

We head back to wedding central again and set some things up and prepare for pictures. We get dressed and I am walking around barefoot, all made up, hair done, bridesmaid’s dress and drinking a PBR. I am nothing but class, folks. As I walked out to the bar to get that PBR, I see a girl wearing a halter sundress and knee high leather boots. Brown. Knee high black socks under. Socks were about two inches higher than the boots. I immediately go into mocking mode. It’s pretty much standard operating procedure for me.

I walk in the tent and someone comes up behind me and says something in my ear. I turn around. It’s an old friend from college. It suddenly dawns on me that Boots, out there, is his girlfriend. I get the giggles in a big way. I am with Halpert, TB and the Band Director. He’s a friend of all the boys’ from high school that now lives near Clark and I. We sneak off to drink beer and eat wings. Well, they ate wings. I tried to have a modicum of class. Barefoot and PBR in hand was as white trash as I was willing to go.

We go to get the boys ready and because I am the only female, I end up having to pin all of their boutonnieres on. (Yes I had to google the fuck out of that word to spell it right). I get them all dressed up and I stand there looking at these guys, some I have known since they were 18 years old and I want to cry. They all looked so grown up and so handsome. No one looks bad in a tux.

It’s show time now. We do the ceremony. It’s quick. Thank you Clark and Wife for not being Catholic. More pictures. Annoucements. First dances. Food. PARTY TIME.

I can’t even begin to explain the awesomeness that was this reception. There is not a picture of me where I don’t have a PBR in hand or I’m not singing. So, I’m going to bullet this out for ease. Because there was way too much awesome.

• Worst DJ EVER. The evening was saved by karaoke. Starting with Space Cowboy singing “Puttin’ on the Ritz”
• Karaoke “Baby Got Back”
• SWEEEEEEEEET CAROLIIIIIIIIINE
• Clark and I sang Total Eclipse of the Heart
• Dancing. So much dancing. Billy Idol dance off between Space Cowboy and Pigtails’ boyfriend
• Slow dancing. Space Cowboy and TB were the lucky ones.
• Motorboating. Yes. That’s right. TB got me 5 times. The first time he told me it was the first of one. Then he decided he meant many. How many? 8. He came up short.
• I caught the bouquet. It was broken. METAPHOR FOR MY LIFE.
• Doing shots of vodka that came out of a plastic bottle
• Spending time with some of the best friends a girl could ever have. Seriously. I am so lucky.

The next morning was ugly. We were all a little hungover and sick because it was 40 fucking degrees the night before. We had no sleep and we all had long drives ahead. I was too afraid of my hair to try and shower. So I drove the three hours home, took a nap and waited as long as possible before attacking the hair. 20 bobby pins, three shampoos, and a whole lot of deep conditioning later and I was pretty much back to normal.

It’s weird how you spend time with people, even new people, for just a few short hours/days and the ensuing days after you leave them are…empty. I miss everyone so much right now. I want them all to come live at my house. I miss everyone. It’s going to get worse. I haven’t left work before 7:00 yet this week and I’ve been leaving early.

My stress level is through the damn roof. I am overwhelmed. I just drank a glass of wine before coming up to bed. It’s starting to hit me now. So it seems kind of fuzzy…the anxiety, that is. I feel gooood. I was paid the most amazing compliments by Chi-Town this weekend. She, like myself, doesn’t really have a lot of girl friends. More guys. She told me I was genuine and that I was really strong. I appreciated that. I really liked her. I bonded with Pigtails too and that was awesome. I can’t wait to go visit my lovely ladies soon. Right now, my sinuses need to be paid a visit from my neti pot. So I’m off. I missed you too. Night, ya’ll. xoxo

Oh my. Where do I even start? I guess the beginning, huh? Friday.

I woke up very early Friday morning and left to go home when Banky went to work. Ungodly hour. I, of course, fell back asleep when I got home and had no desire to actually get up and drive 3-4 hours north. I threw some shit in a bag, grabbed my dress and left. I was on my way there when Clark called me. Finally someone told me it’d be shorter to go to his parents than to meet up with Halpert and Space Cowboy and drive over. I change courses. There’s a detour. We are in the back ass woods here, folks. I am driving up and down the road and my Garmin keeps telling me it’s about 500 feet ahead. The road ends about 100 feet ahead. I call Clark. I’m in front of the house. He neglected to mention I should be looking for a GIANT ASS TENT. Master of details, he is not.

I unload and we start prepping for the big day. People start showing up. Space Cowboy, Halpert, Truck Bomb (this will be explained) and my new friends, Chi-Town and Pigtails. I am giddy. People I love all in one place for a whole weekend? Lucky bitch. Right here.

We start the rehearsal. My old friend, Truck Bomb convinces Chi-Town and I to take sips out of the fifth of Jack he brought. I can smell the epicness of the evening starting to unveil itself already.

We head out to the rehearsal dinner. Wings. Awesome. It’s buy your own beer, so Chi-Town, Truck Bomb and I say we’ll each buy a round. After the first two rounds, someone (who shall remain anonymous) decides car bombs are an excellent idea. So I round up Halpert, Clark’s brother and Truck Bomb. I totally won, but TB disputed it because I left half a milliliter of Guinness in my glass. Yeah, yeah.

Well, here’s where shit goes down. Someone’s uncle decides to tell TB about something called and Irish Truck Bomb. It’s 36oz of Guinness and the drop in shot of Bailey’s/Jameson is 12oz. TWELVE MOTHERFUCKING OUNCES, PEOPLE. That is twelve fucking shots on top of nearly two (imperial) pints of Guinness. Truck Bomb, being a Marine, all around bad ass, Irish and a drunk…has to prove his manhood. Uncle Genius says he’ll buy if TB does it. I am banking on the bar not being able to accommodate this request. $31 later and I am dead wrong.

This is my real life.

Every. Last. Drop.

I watched him do it with a mix of fascination, envy, lust and horror. It had already been decided by the Sleepover Girls (with back-up from Halpert and Space Cowboy) that TB and I were the only ones who could handle each other. They had big plans for us. I’ll be honest here. I’ve always kind of had a little crush on TB. He used to come up and visit Clark at college and we’d hang out and listen to The Misfits and have sleepovers and stay up watching movies. Nothing ever happened, but I always thought he was the coolest. The Marines fucked that boy up good, though. And so did that drink.

I got stuck driving him and Clark home. I thought I was going to either die, or kill them. TB cranked the Bad Religion up LOUD. We’re driving down these back country roads and he grabs my wheel. I stay calm, Clark does not. Epic argument ensues. With The Gray Race as a soundtrack. We finally make it home and I need a minute to collect myself. When I rejoin my lovely friends, they’re on the back porch drinking. Well, TB is trying to, but not having much success.

For some unknown reason, he takes off running into the corn field behind the house. We’re begging him to come out. It’s freezing. Not happening. We go back to the porch. All of the sudden you hear “HOO-RAH!” from the cornfield. Clark perks up like a meerkat and takes off into the cornfield as well. Ahh, the mating call of the Marines.

Those two idiots sit out in the field and giggle like school girls for awhile. We can’t get either of them to come in now. Fuck it. Let ‘em sleep out there. It’s cold, late and I want to go to bed.

I guess they got bored finally, and they came in. I went upstairs and had girl talk with my bridesmaid buddies until we fell asleep. Kind of like I’m about to do now. Loooooong day. We’ll continue tomorrow, starting with breakfast. Bacon Gravy. That is all.

There’s really nowhere to go from here. I mean, the last two days have kept me giggling so much and so hard, my stomach hurts.

I got hysterical AGAIN today when I started thinking about yesterday so I texted Poprocks with “BUNNIES” in the middle of the day. Then I shared the picture with Kitty. She got totally giggly with me and we decided to send it to Banky.

Yes. I did. I am just that awesome.

We both sat and stared at my phone for what felt like hours until he replied. Just an “lol” and he asked where I found it. I told him I didn’t and Poprocks had made that for me. Haven’t heard from him since. Hehe. I really am an asshole. Between that and the mushroob…

Oh, and in case you’re wondering…and I know you are, yes. My ass is still vibrating. Although now I think it may be in my hip…whatever. Maybe if I actually sleep tonight, that will help.

Now…important things.

WHAT THE FUCK, BRAND NEW?!

Myspace was streaming the new Brand New album yesterday and today. I made it through once. Once was enough. I am sad, ya’ll. Deja Entendu was my favorite album in college. I wore that shit out. I would drive around listening to that. It was the precursor to Tennessee. I have been listening to them for over seven years now. All they’ve given me is three albums in that time. They’ve all been a little different, but I truly love them all. This Daisy bullshit? FUCK THAT NOISE. Jesse Lacey must’ve hit his head and confused himself with Dustin Kensrue because that shit sounds like Thrice or some other shitty screamo band. NOOOOOOOO. I am supposed to go see them in Detroit in a few weeks. Considering blowing it off and waiting for the Revival Tour to go up. Stupid Brand New. Stupid new sound. Jesseeeeeee….whyyyyyyyyyyy?

Oh….fuck YOU, universe. I just checked and Drag The River is NOT playing the Revival Tour in the D. Fuckity fuck fuck. They’re not playing Louisville either. I think Jon Snodgrass knows I will totally maul him if he comes anywhere near me. I just can’t get enough Drag The River lately.

Just realized tomorrow is my last day at work this week. Friday I am off so I can drive across the damn state for Clark’s wedding. It’s going to be so much fun. It’s the first wedding I’ve been in as an adult. Most of my friends have banned me because of my tattoos. Hehe. That’s one way to get out of wearing ugly bridesmaid dresses.

I was going through facebook photos tonight and realized there are a lot…I mean A LOT of them (read: 11) where I am trashed and wearing someone’s hat. So I made an album celebrating my total doucheness. I think I amuse myself more than anyone else ever could.

Here it is midnight and I was going to go to bed “early” tonight. For me, technically it still is…

God. I feel like this whole blog was pointless. How do you follow up the beginning of my week? All I’ve done is work, come home and do freelance and try and figure out why it feels like there is an electronic pulse in my ass. I’ll probably be MIA until after the wedding. I’m sure that will spawn some excellent tales involving a drunken Space Cowboy and Halpert. So, until that happens…um…go through my blogroll. It is full of awesomeness.

So I have to say, Friday was not as epic as I had hoped for.

I ended up in hipster HELL. Banky bugged me all day to go out. Told him it would probably be just me “That’s all I need”. Whatever. He then proceeded to text me over the next hour to tell me what he thought of every song on the mix I burned for him. I have downloaded a bunch of samplers lately and they’ve mostly been that hipster shit he listens to. I like to share music, that’s all. ANYWAY…

Dinner with Clark, Halpert and Space Cowboy ran a little late. It was an excellent evening minus the part where my dear friend the restaurant owner brought out a LIVE LOBSTER for Space Cowboy to look over and it waved at me. And then they killed and ate it. I eat meat, ya’ll. I love a good ribeye…bacon…ribs…yum. But I don’t like to think about how it gets on my plate. AKA – I don’t need to witness the slaughter. They made fun of me because I cried. Then I drank more. Dinner was excellent as always. Good food, good beer, good people, good conversation. Happy.

I met Banky and some of his friends across the river at the most hipster bar outside of his neighborhood. All skinny jeans, v-necks and bad haircuts. His friend’s band was playing. We waited and waited and waited…I drank a few High Lifes and he told me about his trip. It was a pretty normal evening for us. After the band played we were figuring out where to go. We ended up back in his neighborhood where it was karaoke night at one of his bars. Three words. Tone deaf lesbians. Two more. Show tunes.

What have I done to deserve this?

I am exhausted. I am falling asleep on our table. Not one offer to stay at his place. That’s weird. We walk out to the cars. He asks. I agree. I do not want to drive 30 minutes home after drinking all night. I’m not drunk, just tired. We get back to his place and he wants to watch Valkyrie. I think he says Battlecreek. I ask him if it’s a documentary on cereal. (Battlecreek is where General Mills is, shut up) I say fine, whatever. Go upstairs, climb into bed, turn the movie on. 10 minutes in he turns it off. Then goes to sleep.

GOES TO FUCKING SLEEP.

Not even Banky wants to sleep with me anymore. What’s that noise? Oh, that’s just my self esteem slamming the door shut as she quits this bitch. In the middle of the night, once, he rolled over to snuggle and instinctively I reached out and scratched his arms like I always did. He rolled back over. Seriously. For the past 10 months he has ignored everything I have ever asked of him. NOW is when he decides to listen to me?

I don’t get men. This dude has been playing cat and mouse with me since the day we met. This is the first time we have ever shared a bed and not had anything happen. It’s just weird. I’m not complaining I guess, I’m just fucking baffled.

This is after the most awkward day ever with BNB. Space Cowboy is getting tattooed and Halpert and I are talking and someone, Space Cowboy I think, brings up car bombs. I mention how much I love them, because oh man do I love me some car bombs. BNB looks me dead in the eyes, heart attack serious and says “You don’t need to drink car bombs”. “And why is that?” “Are you really going to make me say it out loud?”

There are two things he could be referencing there.

One: When I was a wee thing of about 20, he stayed late at his first shop to tattoo Nola one night. We picked up some Bass and Guinness and stayed up until 5:00 am drinking black and tans. Douche McGee fell asleep while Nola, BNB and I got really drunk. I proceeded to start a tickle fight with him and may or may not have said something inappropriate. We’ve never really talked about it since. But at that point he learned of my massive crush on him. It was already five years old at that point. I ended up puking those black and tans all down the street in front of Nola’s at 6:00 am while hanging out of Douche’s car. Oh the good old days.

Two: Right after Douche and I split up, I contacted BNB via myspace to see where he was and if he’d tattoo me. He called me that night and ended up meeting me and some friends for a drink. We went back to his place and that was the one and only time we ever fooled around. I don’t think I had a car bomb that night, but we were at a pub. So that could be the first time EVER he’s brought that up since the morning after.

Either way, it was unsettling. He also talked A LOT about this girl he’s “seeing” or “talking to” or whatever. He’s back to the sappy ass facebook updates and shit. I am quitting the internet. All it does is annoy me by pointing out my failures in relationships. Seriously, fuck you facebook.

I did have a nice lunch with Halpert though. He gets me, like really gets me in all my black hearted glory. I don’t see him nearly enough. That’s why you don’t see your named tagged here a lot, dickweed. Love you!

Back to the chronological story, Saturday morning Banky woke up and moved to the couch. I got up and left. He said he felt like shit, I didn’t care. I was feeling confused and annoyed. I came home and fell back asleep for a bit. Then I got up and got ready for Button’s first birthday party. I can’t believe my baby girl is a year old. I tried to hang back and let everyone have their time with her, but if she sees me, she usually wants me to pick her up. We’re buds.

After the party, I went back home and crashed for bit. I continued my mission to rid my house of everything I don’t need/want the rest of the weekend. I am tired. I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.

Poprocks and I got a chance to talk tonight and we had a really great talk. He told me I wasn’t a bad person for putting myself first finally and ignoring everyone else’s drama and problems. He encouraged me to build boundaries with the people that take advantage of me and gave me pointers for how to deal with the passive-aggressive. I haven’t talked about him here yet, I will soon. He’s supposed to call. I am just so angry about it I can’t start until I have the energy to write it out. I don’t right now.

We had a good talk about where my energies are going right now too. I have a meeting at the art institute tomorrow night to discuss their accelerated multimedia/web program. 18 months. They offer evening classes. So, if it all goes as planned (aka- they give me money) I will be working about 50 hours at the normal job, taking classes and working a part time job 16-20 hours a week. Don’t call. But um, pray for me?

I start the freelance project tomorrow night. I am excited. Did I mention I got the freelance job? I am not going to lie, I prayed my ass off for that job. Jesus took pity on me. Thanks dude.

I think I bitched about everything I needed to, so it’s time for bed.

The Whispertown 2000 – Done With Love

Seriously?

I love you, blog stats.

So I took the whole day off today. Slept in, took my sweet ass time getting ready, played music so loud you could hear it outside…bliss.

Space Cowboy and Halpert showed up and we headed to the shop where BNB and Space Cowboy made eyes at each other for the next 2.5 hours. Bromance of the century right there. Halpert and I left and got some awesome lunch. We went back and they were right where we left them. Adorable.

We’re headed to my fave place for dinner and then I am meeting up with Banky to go see his friend’s band and probably drink and make bad decisions. Fuck yeah, it’s Friday motherfuckers!

Alright, first things first. The important stuff.

I FINALLY got my Cory Branan/Jon Snodgrass split! Jon’s cover of Thin Lizzy’s Wild One is amazing. Goosebumps. Cory’s long awaited studio version of Walk Around? DISAPPOINTED. He doesn’t say “fucking golden unicorn”. That’s what MAKES that song. Every thing else is amazing. Cory’s Yeah, So What? may be a new favorite. Born Apart has a harmonica part that makes me MELT. To my fucking core. These two can do no wrong.

Ok, enough about things that make me happy. Let’s move on to things that burn my ass. Cowards. I live my life very honestly. Or I try to. I can’t sleep at night knowing there’s something I need to say and I haven’t said it. Hello, that’s why I blog before bed. So I don’t understand who left me that comment. Here’s my theory…

That comment was either made by someone who desperately craves attention- wait. No, no matter what, that comment was made by an attention whore. That much is obvious. It was either completely random, and made by someone who just likes to fuck with people. Ok, fine. Whatever, kitchen dick. It’s cool.

If it WAS by someone I know or who knows me, well…my thoughts are much simpler. Fuck you. If you have something to say to me, or if I have so grievously offended you…MAN UP. Tell me to my fucking face, or at least let me know who you are. There was NOTHING in that blog that deserved that. That comment didn’t even make sense. What did I do? You’re right. I don’t have any idea. Tell me. Also, if you knew me at all you would know I pride myself on being ridiculous, and yes…even disgusting. Lighten the fuck up. Laugh at me, I do. Laugh at yourself.

When I first read that comment I laughed hysterically for a good 10 minutes. Then I called Toast and read it to him. He was confused as well. Then I called Totoro. She was the first one to say out loud what my fear was. What if it was the dumbcuntwhorebagslutface that stole my man? If it was, how do you like your new nickname, slag?

Here’s the thing, that crazy ass bitch… She got what she wanted. My life. She took my future. My boyfriend, my plans, my past…she robbed me of all of it. Then, she had the fucking audacity to keep tabs on me. She refuses to let Douche even utter my name. He is not allowed to be friends with me. He suggested I write to her and ask her permission, basically. Clearly, eight years together and he didn’t even know me that well. See, he misses me. I miss him too. Shut up. He was my best friend for nearly a third of my life. This August would have been our ten year anniversary. So, little miss homewrecker…FUCK YOU. Every reason he said he didn’t want to be with me for, you have magnified. Karma, is that you?

I don’t know if it was her or not. I do know I quit writing in my livejournal for the most part because she would log into his and read mine, unbeknownst to either of us. So he says. This was up to six months ago, when he deleted it. It had been a year and a half. I had walked away. She is certifiable, man. He knew about Banky because she told him. Those two deserve each other.

Anyway, that’s the end of it. It pisses me off because I write this blog for me. No one else. I don’t care if people read or comment. I write to work through shit in my own foul-mouthed way. If you don’t like it, DON’T READ IT. It’s just common fucking sense.

Really moving on this time. I am trying to convince Space Cowboy to write a blog. He sends me the most amazing texts ever. He’s hilarious and would be a riot to read. Today we continued a conversation about the BNB’s breakup with Jim Henson’s abortion. (TM Space Cowboy, 2009)

“I mean if I woke up looking like some half assed Sesame Street abomination, I would run towards the nearest living thing and kill it.”

PRICELESS.

I am a very lucky girl. I have a lot of very close guy friends. Space Cowboy, Halpert, Clark, J-Bear, Vampire…even Banky. No matter what has happened between any of us, we are always friends. They are protective, tell me I’m pretty, do sweet things for me. It’s almost like having my own harem. Without the feeding of grapes and whoring it up. As much as I love these boys, and trust me, I do, they’re my brothers…nothing compares to my ladies.

I always hated girls. Always. I always had more dude friends. Then I found my people. The other girls who were like me, bitchy but honest. Thought and acted more like guys, and could drink most of them under the table. These are my surrogate sisters. Wifey, MFEO, Savannah Ruby Soho and Martha make every day bearable. Without them, I wouldn’t be the awesome woman I am today…on my way to burning in cunt hell. They’ll be joining me. Thank god. It’d be so boring alone.

I’d like to share with you two actual conversations that happened today. 1. Because they’re funny. 2. I’m pretty sure I have swine flu and am going to die at any moment. That would be welcome at this point. I feel like throwing up things I ate as a child. Gross. Anyway, conversation #1 took place via iChat (hence the no capitalization and probably questionable grammar) between myself and the Wifey while at work today. Enjoy.

Wifey: i need more inspiration. all my haiku’s today are sappy.

Me: it’s not tuesday!

Wifey: i’m getting a head start. not posting them til tomorrow. i’m seriously going to write a book and i need lots and lots of them.

Me: lol. cheater

Wifey: whatev

Me:  be inspired by…hmm…my boobies

Wifey: forest pirates

Me:  they look good. do it.

Wifey: Your tits in that shirt,
Make me want to ravish you.
Trailing kisses down.

Wifey: these are going to have to be third person poems least anyone think i’m batting for the other team now. great now i can’t stop writing haiku’s about your boobs. thanks.

Me: YES!

Wifey: i hate you

Me: no you don’t, you’re writing poetry to my cleavage

Wifey: I can’t stop looking
At your face. It’s beautiful.
I’m lying to you.

Your tits in that shirt,
Make me want to ravish you.
Trailing kisses down.

I lift your arms up.
You wrap them behind my head.
I grab a handful.

You taste hot, sultry.
I lift your shirt up and off.
I unsnap your bra.

no i hate you

Me: wow. just wow.

She is my special girl. We built her blog tonight. It’s called Haiku Tuesdays. You can find a link in my blogroll. She truly is a talented poet when she’s not writing smut. I helped her build her blog tonight. We have date night tomorrow. Giant Dos Equis Ambar with extra lime and Wolverine. What more could a girl want?

After falling asleep on the couch and waking up to my insides declaring war on themselves, I start my nightly routine…Check facebook, check email, etc. I come across this conversation, excluding me, on my facebook wall.

Space Cowboy: Halpert and I decided we want to be in your stories more, so we have to make the next visit super epic. I am stoked at getting inked with ya!

Wifey: Um, agreed. And you have to see me!

Space Cowboy: We gotta go to that tequileria again and visit Lil’ Miss Wonder Boobs.

Wifey: Who is Lil’ Miss Wonder Boobs?

Space Cowboy: Remember the chick with the boobs that extended two feet from her body? You made the crack that she could have served our drinks from them? Then we saw Fidel Castro’s brother.

Wifey: How could I forget?!

Space Cowboy: We did get a little obliterated. Especially Tiger Lily (that’s me), I had to drive us back to Casa De Lily.

Wifey: Can’t wait to do it again. I ♥ beer. Oh and you guys.

That is a 100% true story. Except I don’t remember letting him drive my car. Except I kind of do. That’s what happens when you drink more than one beer the size of your head. I am really excited about Space Cowboy and Halpert coming down for my birthday though. That is guaranteed good, inebriated fun right there.

So after not hearing from Banky for two days he texts me today to tell me he’s had food poisoning all weekend and was in the ER last night due to it. Well, I kind of feel like an asshole for thinking he was being an asshole. It’s just not like him to go all weekend without drunk texting me. Anyway, he’s fine and we will probably go back to movie night next week. My movie came today!

I bought Shotgun Stories. It’s Ben’s brother’s film. It actually sounds really good and was highly praised. It also happens to have a Lucero soundtrack, including a gorgeous instrumental of Hold Me Close. I can’t wait to watch it.

Not much else to say tonight. I have to shop for my birthday buddy. Martha’s birthday is three days before mine and we are doing our joint birthday dinner and a girl’s day at the pool courtesy of my beloved Wifey. Sometimes I love them, sometimes they make me crazy…but when it comes down to it, I have the best friends.

So when I said I needed more drama, this is not what I had in mind.

Those of you that know me best know that I HATE doctors. I will do anything to avoid going to the doctor. By this I mean I will drink straight whiskey and hot sauce if that’s what it takes. I sled into a car, didn’t go to the doctor. Pretty sure I broke my ankle on my 22nd birthday, no doctor. I had bronchitis for three weeks before I sucked it up and went to the doctor. I really hate them.

I spent three hours in the ER last night. No, I’m not going through withdrawl from the show. Ok, well maybe a little. But it took an hour and a half and I waited until halftime on that poor ass excuse of a NCAA final before I let my mother take me in.

Why? Because apparently my gallbladder wants to quit this bitch. I have a very high tolerance for pain. See: my body covered in tattoos and piercings. I couldn’t breathe last night. It felt like I was being stabbed in the shoulder while getting a bear hug from a gorilla. It wouldn’t go away. So I sucked it up and went to the ER.

The first thing they did was make me pee in a cup. I was not amused. Then they make me put a gown on. Really? I’m wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. Fuck off. Next thing I know the one nurse says “I’m going to put a line in.” Cue EPIC FREAK OUT. We’ve been over this. This girl does not like needles that do not have ink on them or a receiving tube on the other end. I start flipping out and yelling at the nurses. I’m mean when I don’t feel good and even meaner when I’m in pain.

I have to give them credit though, they were calm, and so nice. The one looks at me like, “why are you flipping out, crazypants?” and the other one told her I saw the needle. She very calmly tells me it’s going to be ok and she’s going to take some blood for tests. I tell her I need a minute and promptly burst into tears. As I’m bawling I tell the nurses I know I’m nearly 27 and this is ridiculous. Then I make my mother hold my hand.

She sticks me. Five minutes later she is still taking blood. I ask if she’s going to leave me any. I then proceed to explain that my fear of needles is silly because of my tattoos and piercings and that it is different. I then tell her I have never had an IV so let’s leave that off tonight’s agenda. She looks at me and says “you just got one.” MELTDOWN. There is a tube sticking out of my arm and I can see my own blood. I am not pleased.

I wait and wait and wait for the doctor to come in. I have a tv. I am watching MSU get slaughtered. 4:00 left and he comes in and turns it off. I am about to stab someone. He pokes at me and asks a bunch of questions. He tells me he’s giving me some pepcid and something else for pain and nausea and if it doesn’t help he’ll give me some morphine. Then he sends the nurse back in to actually hook the IV up and give me drugs. 10 minutes later and I am floating. Without the morphine. There’s not a chance in hell I’d have let them put that shit in my body. I barely will take advil for the soul crushing cramps I get. I won’t even take anything for migraines 90% of the time. I don’t like to put that crap in my body. It’s not a straight edge thing, hello whiskey, I just don’t like drugs.

I end up watching the epic disappointment of MSU vs UNC and flip through the channels settling on the Tyra Banks show. She has the tranny from ANTM on and they’re talking about sex changes. I am high as a kite and just sort of staring at it. It was the best show I could have picked. Truly. Although, dialation? SCARY. The doctor come back in and asks me something. I just nod at him. He tells me my tests came back pretty good, my white count is high, but the differential is good. So no worries.

He writes me a scrip for an ultrasound, some pepcid, phenergan and darvocet. It’s now after 1:00 am. I come home and stumble into bed. I wake up at 7:30 am to my father calling me. “Are you still asleep??” “Um, yeah. I was in the ER until 1:00 am” “What the hell for?” I slur my way through that and then call Kitty because I can’t even think about dealing with the boss lady. I go back to sleep. I wake up and the first thing I hear is my mother yelling at me that I’m NPO and my ultrasound is at 12:30. I am not happy.

I go back to the effing medical center and the lady at the front desk is rude as hell. When I woke up this morning it felt like a toddler was sitting on my chest. It’s not as painful as it was, but I am uncomfortable and pissed I am back here. I go get the ultrasound and head back over to the ER because the assholes didn’t actually give me my scrips last night. They wrote down what they gave me, but there were no actual prescriptions.

We explain this to the lady behind the desk. She says “what do you want me to do about it?” I almost have to physically restrain Mama Bear. We fight with them for a half hour. They didn’t give them to me. “We can’t find them.” “Okaaaaay…can you rewrite them?” “Not for the narcotic.” “But you NEVER GAVE IT TO ME.” “We can readmit you.” “So I can pay you another $75 to rewrite me a prescription you wrote and didn’t give to me last night?” “You should call your family doctor.” GAAAAAAAH!!

Now I am really pissed. And kind of hungry. So we go get some lunch. I cant even drink my coke without it hurting like a son of a bitch in my chest. I’m starting to freak out that maybe there is something wrong with me. I call my doctor. I GO BACK. AGAIN. I talk to him and he decides I need an EKG. I am naked. Again. I am so over this. The EKG is fine. He tried to listen to the dictation of my ultrasound results but he said he couldn’t understand the radiologist so he’ll get the hard copy and I’m to call him tomorrow. He says if it’s stones I will be seeing a surgeon this week.

This is my life. I swear to god they will wait until April 27th to cut me open. My gallbladder can choke on it. I am not missing Lucero. Woodership Down and I are going to have an epic weekend, fuck you gallbladder. This is my main concern. I am starting to wish I had just ignored it like I usually ignore sickness. All day my chest has been killing me though. So I guess I’m kind of glad I went. Whatever.

Of course being me, I have to chronicle this via facebook (check out the IV picture) and Twitter. So I have a million messages from my friends. Halpert called to check on me, as did Clark. Talked to Wifey, MFEO and Savannah too. My friends are so sweet. I still feel like there is a small child sitting on my chest, but it’s better. I”m on a liquid diet, fun! Martha tried to cheer me up by touting the weight loss benefits. Not my main concern right now, but I suppose a nice side effect?

I’m really fine. Uncomfortable, but fine. I am planning on going to work tomorrow. We’ll see what the doctor has to say about this surgery nonsense. I will be ok though. I may punch a nurse, but it’ll all work out in the end. Right?

I had one of those dreams about Indie Friday night. Completely random and unprovoked. I was on some sort of camping trip with the strangest group of people. My mom was there, Indie and Dinga’s on and off again boyfriend, Cha Cha. I have to say, it was interesting. I haven’t had one of those dreams in awhile and usually they’re weird in a scary way. Like the one I had where Banky kept turning into his identical twin or BNB. Scary.

So after waking up, slightly disappointed, on Saturday it was time for epic weekend to begin. Now, it’s not going to be Lucero epic, but it was good. Halpert and Space Cowboy were in town visiting Clark. This means I get to relive some of my best college memories. I love these boys. They are some of my closest friends and strongest supporters.

Before I got to hang with the boys, it was girl time. I had brunch with Savannah at our favorite local place. One mimosa and two cups of coffee washed down with some Lemon Lavender Bundt Cake. I was bouncing off the walls. The food was amazing and the company is always stellar. We talked to the owners for awhile and I got into trouble because I almost said Port of Call had better burgers. So I amended it with …in Louisiana. After brunch, I headed over to Clark’s.

Clark’s wife was working which meant I got to play with Button. My arms are killing me because she is a 7 month old HOSS. I love her more than words. She has aunts and uncles that would do anything for her. We all ventured to the international market to gather supplies for dinner. I felt like I was wrangling a bunch of kindergarteners. We make it through and Clark and Space Cowboy have decided we are going to make periwinkles. For those of ya’ll that don’t know (I didn’t) those are snails. I got dared into eating one.

Unfortunately it’s still not the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. What? Oysters are way nastier. And caviar is foul. I had opened my stupid mouth and said I would try one before I saw one of the little fuckers out of its shell. EW. Clark told me to close my eyes and open my mouth. Um, I’ve heard that before. But, I am a lady of my word…if not a lady in any other sense.

The taste was actually not bad at all. I made the biggest mistake of my life though…I tried to chew it. FAIL. Oh lord. It was disgusting. Chewy, slimy. I just had to swallow at that point. (Is this enough innuendo for you yet?) Then I downed a Magic Hat #9 and all was right in the world.

Halpert and I, as usual, played mom and pops and cleaned up the kitchen together. We make a good team, I missed him a lot. The man is wise. He actually shut me up good today. I am going off on a tangent, sorry…bear with me. We were in the tux place talking and I mentioned I am going back to celibacy because it’s simple. He looks at me and says “Oh yeah, because one day you’re going to wake up and think ‘I’m so glad my life was simple’.” Damn. The man has a point. I think I just need to make better choices on bedmates.

Anyway, after the cleaning was done, I kidnapped Space Cowboy and Halpert and we headed to the show. We get there and the first band, a local band I love, are playing. I see my friend who books the shows and we chat. He asks if I’ve seen the BNB yet. Nope. I talked to him briefly earlier via facebook. He was so short and rude to me I didn’t care if I saw him or not. All the weirdness and unrequited love aside, we are friends. Going to shows is our thing. I don’t care if you’re trying to get into the Dark Crystal’s pants. Don’t treat me like that. I won’t put up with it.

Of course I run right into him after that. He was all hug, hug and kiss, kiss. Whatever. I am not playing those games anymore.

We grab a spot and some beers and the night begins. The first band is great. As always. The second guy goes on and he’s great too. Then Austin Lucas goes on. The last time I saw him he called BNB an asshole. I was disappointed there wasn’t a repeat performance. I decide to go to the bathroom and my friend is talking to Tim Barry. I decide I have to act.

I asked my friend if he thought it’d be lame to ask for a picture. I tend to kind of geek out around these guys. I am a music nerd. I don’t mean to be a fangirl, but these are my heroes. As someone who writes a lot, I listen to these guys sing the words I wish I could think of. I worship them. So when the opportunity presents itself to speak to one, just to say hi…I summon up all the calmness I have and I go for it.

I waited for them to finish their conversation and I asked Tim if I could have a picture. He is so sweet and funny, and Southern. He looks at me and says “Well I can’t do anything until I know your name.” I try not to melt into a little puddle right then and there. I tell him my name and I tell him I have a friend (MFEO) who loves him from Avail and will be insanely jealous. He then tells me I can’t have a picture. He agrees but tells me he’s going to put his hat over his face. So then he tells me he’ll do another one, but the first one is the one that goes on the internet.

He played an amazing show. The thing I love about him is he just talks and he’s a great story teller. He stopped in the middle of Avoiding Catatonic Surrender to tell this 15 minute long story and then just picks back up like nothing happened. He told the story about why he wrote Waiting at Milano and I really thought I may cry. I thought about Nola and her brother. That song will always sound different to me now. It is honestly one of my favorites. He’s just great. The show was great, the company was great and I like that bar a lot.

I drove home after four beers in a thunderstorm, across a really scary bridge. I have conquered some fears apparently. Or the beer helped. I give the boys back and I end up talking to Totoro for awhile. It was a really good conversation. We needed one like that.

I slept in today and intended to write much earlier, but the day got away from me. I went back to see the boys and we got lunch and went looking for tuxes for Clark’s wedding in September. I have to find a dress. I’m a bridesmaid. We hung out for a bit after that and Halpert and Space Cowboy had to get on the road.

I came home and took a much needed nap. Which is why I am writing, and not sleeping, at 12:30 am.

In other news…I won’t go into the details, because I am sick of talking about it. Mostly with him, Hobnobs is not coming here and will not be my roommate. Obviously I am not moving out. I have kind of fucked him over, but you know what? I can’t be responsible for myself most days…how am I supposed to be responsible for someone else’s entire life? Bad plan. So it’s done. I went from engaged to the asshole in less than a month. This is my life.

I’m old, my back is killing me and I need to get some sleep. No more jeans at work so I have to actually think about what to wear tomorrow. Le sigh. No Monday morning meeting though! There’s always a silver lining.

i know i know… im slacking. sue me. 

i have vacation coming up. so. yeah. i wont be posting till tuesday (ish)

for all your tv updates go to givememyremote.com .. if you missed your favorite show go to hulu.com

and totally if you missed last weeks The Office.. long story short. New VP (over Michael) killed Michael’s 15 Ann of being at Dunder Mifflin. He was being a jerk to Michael.. and really hurting Michaels feelings.. awww.. anyways Michael ended up quitting. CRAZY!. (i think it is for the best for the writers to refresh Michaels Character. i doubt its for realz though.) also Jim was making fun of Dwight and ended up making a bad first impression with Charles (vp guy) and He kept having super awkward moments with the guy poor Jim. 

American Idol last nite- it was a little awkward with Paula asking Ryan what he was doing after the show. hmm.. 

I thought Chris Matt Adam and Danny killed it. Everyone else. ah.  I think either Megan or Michael will go home tonight. Bottom Three will prolly be Megan, Scott, Michael. I like Scott.. but he has the SAME voice everytime.. no range.. same thing with Michael.. and i dont like Megans voice. (Sry) [[RESULTS TONIGHT.]] ALSO Hells Kitchen is on tonight. LOVE IT.. watch it!

Anyways. thats all from me…. go check out those sites.. keep you busy till i get back. LATER!

I got my first pay-check today.  it was only 223 dollars for thirty hours, i make 8.20 an hour, but it’s good, since i dont have bills or car payments or anything.  i decided to celebrate, and there’s only one thing that can make me more happy than i’ve ever felt, and thats pumpkins smile. . .  So i decided that by way of celebrating i would surprise her with a date that i payed for instead of her! 

     i met up with her at work, waited for a little while, and when she got off i got a sudden brain wave and we went to the nail place next door to get her nails done, which she really likes.  She looked really happy and smiled alot, and that’s what i was looking for.  After that we went to her house so she could get ready for our dinner and movie date, which i payed for.  did i already mention that?  and while she was waiting i played transformers with her little brothers.  oh, and quick tangent here, the picture above, it’s of me playing transformers.  and the bracelet i have on is made of shoelace from my old shoes.  fun fact for you.

anyway, after she was all dressed up and ready to go we went to tempanyaki and ate a lot of good food and watch an awesome japanese guy prepare it.  It was pretty cool.  there were these freakin awesome demon fish there and we took pictures with them.  just…  i wanted to put this picture of pumpkin on here cause she looks really cute in it.  otherwise i wouldnt have mentioned the demon fish at all…  then we went to the cinemark to see a movie, but nothing was starting at the time, so we went to the arcade they have in there and busted up some guys in time crises 3.  pumkin and i kicked some serious butt!  And then after that we went and saw the movie, leatherheads, with jim halpert in it, you know, from the office.  the show itself wasn’t very good, at least i didnt think so.  it was really slow.  but it had jim in it and jim is like… my hero.  And it had that guy from oceans 13 to, i guess.  i’m only mentioning him because pumpkin liked him though.  So there you have it.  our awesome celebration night in a nutshell.  Cheers.  oh, and a P.S.  side note here, this blue lips thing happened while we were waiting for the movie to start, and we did it with those robin eggs candies.  it’s some intense stuff, you should definatly not try it at home… only in a movie theater.  and also, all these pictures are all posted at facebook.com, just search for my name and look at my photos.  so you can go there for the full photo gallery if your really bored.  peace. 

Cînd am scris, în această rubrică, despre etalarea mizeriei, aducătoare de premii pentru filme româneşti de o valoare estetică îndoielnică, unele chiar din zona subprodusului artistic, mulţi au sărit în sus.

Arătam atunci cum am fost premiaţi pentru un bolnav plimbat cu targa, prin spitalele româneşti, de Cristi Puiu, pentru o însăilare plictisitoare, filmată cu cameră fixă, despre revoluţia de la Vaslui, semnată de Adrian Porumboiu, ca să amintesc doar două exemple, şi afirmam că mai avem de luat premii pentru anunţata poveste cu drama avorturilor din “iepoca” ceauşistă, aparţinînd lui Cristian Mungiu.

După care, avînd în vedere că şi etalarea mizeriei poate să plictisească, dacă nu este susţinută estetic, că, şi din punct de vedere politic, s-ar putea să se ivească alte priorităţi, subliniam că ar trebui schimbat macazul, fiindcă laurii, care au încununat aceste producţii mediocre, sînt mai mult decît amăgitori.

Acum, mare jale mare, prin toată presa românească şi pe la toate colţurile, pentru că mult premiatul film al lui Mungiu – “432, unu… Zero!”, după cum îl numeşte, într-un excelent editorial din Adevărul, Adrian Halpert, pe care îl reproducem în rubrica “A patra putere” a ziarului de astăzi – nu a fost selecţionat în competiţia Oscarului pentru cel mai bun film străin.

Ca de obicei, se sugerează o conspiraţie împotriva României, a valorilor ei îndoielnice, uitîndu-se că, după Cannes, presa mondială a vuit în legătură cu mînăreala politică, prin care s-a pus filmul lui Mungiu înaintea celui care merita Palme d’Or, premiat de altfel la recentele Globuri de Aur, unde se judecă pe alte criterii. De altfel, pentru a închide gurile bogate ale celor care plîng la mormînt străin, înşir numele ţărilor admise în penultima selecţie pentru Oscar: Austria, Brazilia, Canada, Israel, Italia, Kazahstan, Polonia, Rusia şi Serbia.

Este cam greu să le aşezăm într-o grilă politică, nu-i aşa? În concluzie, mulţumesc Academiei Oscar, pentru că mi-a confirmat previziunile şi lui Adrian Halpert, pentru că a avut curajul să spună lucrurilor pe nume.