I am a professional facebook stalker. It's a really bad habit, but I figure that most people do it too... I mean, right!? People check other people's status updates constantly? Trying to think of something witty yet insightful to say? Right? Right!?!? Right.
So, I noticed that one of my friends posted something about a "meat up" on his facebook page and that he would be bartending at said meat up. I did a little investigation and it turned out that this whole fancy pantsy hook-up event was taking place at a bar in my hood. Naturally, I screamed loudly at work with glee and desperation. Happening in my neighborhood! A singles event! The gods are certainly shining on me today. Thank you very much! My coworker happened to walk by as I screamed and she just rolled her eyes. Someone's jealous!
I immediately emailed a few friends to see if they were interested in going with me, and my friend LP wrote me back saying that she would mos def like to be my "date" to the meat market. We hadn't hung out for awhile, so this was going to be a night! A night in which we mostly talked to ourselves, because these events tend to be slightly creepy and uncomfortable. Forced mingling. Ick.
I coach a local Brooklyn swim team on the night that the event was happening so I had to sneak out a little early to get my flirt on. Awwww yeaaaahhhh. Watch out boys! I'm coming and I'm gonna make you feel extremely uncomfortable. Yes!
With my newly applied chlorine perfume on, I made my way to meet up with LP. As we walked into the bar, we noticed that they had a hot dog stand set up at the entrance. Great idea! Why not give potential hook-ups some hot dogs... with onions... and saurkraut... and mustard. That will certainly make everyone MUCH more attractive... with sweet breath... and absolutely no bowel issues what-so-ever. Classy.
They were also giving out name tags when we walked in, and my stomach just dropped. I was thinking how many times I was going to get some dude talking to me while checking out my name tag which also happens to be very very close to my boobs. Fab. To top it off, they were asking what you wanted your porn name to be. Really? Really? LP and I turned down the offer for a name tag, and the guy in line behind us for the coat check wittily said, "Oh, you don't want to talk to anyone tonight?" To which I replied, "This is a couples event, right!?" To which he said, "You two have fun tonight." I really know how the hook the fellas in!
Let me just say, the night was a bit awkward - big surprise! Everyone was there because they were single or supporting a single friend, so it took the cool factor out of just hanging out at a bar, which is usually my m.o. I'm cool! I'm hip! LP and I noticed right away that it was going to be one of those nights, where we will have tons of fun, but we probably won't be meeting the man of our respective dreams! There were actually quite a few fellas at the event, but most of them were already talking to girls. Big surprise yet again!
LP and I had a great time and got a free drink out of it and some laughs shared at the expense of other people. Always a great way to lift the spirits. As we were heading out of the most unsuccessful pick-up night of the century, I saw a few of my dude friends walking in. I decided quickly that I, too, wanted to stay and said goodbye to my dear LP. I'm a horrible friend. I was like, oh guys I know are here... LATER. They were with a girl I didn't know, but we became fast friends. This chick was on the prowl. Much more aggressive than I am, so it was fun.
OF COURSE as soon as I walk in with the guys, they immediately start talking to girls. How does that happen? Sometimes, I think I'm pretty cool, but stuff like that never happens to me. I have to at least have a few beers in me to talk to a guy. I am really judgmental, so if I start talking to a guy before having a drink, I will openly roll my eyes at him and his lame attempts to make jokes and compliment me. Yup. I'm an asshole.
At one point, some guys come to talk to me and my new friend. I know his friend is just talking to me because his friend is talking to my new friend for life and ever and ever... and ever. He's a bit of a douchebag. When I told him I worked for a nonprofit, he asked, ever so delicately and respectfully, "What? You don't like money?" Yeah, that's right. I don't like money. In fact, I hate it. I give all of the money I make to the charity I work for. I don't have a home. The clothes that I'm wearing? Oh, I picked them up at a Salvation Army. Oh, and this beer? I stole it.
Then he said, "Well, I work for-profit, so you probably hate me. I work on Wall Street." Nope, I don't hate you because you work on Wall Street, but I don't really think you are that sharp and are a bit of a tactless d'bag. Then, he asked my most dreaded and hated question. This question makes me want to vomit all over the person asking it. Then it makes me want to go eat a hot dog from the front of the bar and vomit again. "What do you do for fun?" I read Steinbeck and knit clothes for the future children I want to have... with you... do you want kids? Want to see my knittings? I always carry them with me... just in case...
Interview questions within the first minute of talking to someone is never a good sign. I never know how to answer them. I don't want to answer them. I want to have a conversation and find out if I get along with you, not talk about what I do or what colors me pink. Or whatever that expression might be.
I told him I was a comedian, because I didn't know what else to say. He told me to tell him a joke, and I said, "No. I don't tell jokes... I need to go to the bathroom." So hot. GOD, I'm so hot. He wasn't hanging around when I came back, and I felt fine about that.
I stumbled home that night in the freezing cold slightly disappointed, but not too much. I had a great time and I didn't make too much of an ass of myself. All-in-all a good night! Except for the fact that NO pizza places were open on my stumble home. I was so pissed. Even the bodega was closed near my apartment. Ramen it is!
What do you do for fun???
BLARGH.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Allergy Hilarity
Today I had to take a good ole trip to the allergist. You see, I haven't been able to breath out of my nose for the past two weeks - SEXY - so I decided it was time to see an expert of the nose. I can't be hitting on dudes while mouth breathing, it's just, um, not ok. I would have to "come up for air" while making out. So not cute.
The allergist is an adorable little Jewish Brooklyn man. He won my heart over within five minutes of our consultation; I believe it was right after he told me he did some stand-up comedy. What!? A comedian allergist! Hilarious!
So, I had to get some tests done by the PA before meeting again with my little comedic demon of a doctor. He pricked me with about 50 needles on my forearms. Just to add to the hotness of having allergies, I was now marked as one with allergies. The world is doomed! She who is marked as allergic liiiiivvveess!!! AAaaarrrggh!!
I also had to get an asthma test at the same time. We have to cover every 13 year old's fear during this visit. Next I thought they were going to tell me I had to get braces and that Johnny didn't want to go out with me. Sad.
The following conversation happened:
PA: Ok, so we are going to do an asthma test.
Me: Alright.
PA: Stand here and hold this (hands me a tube). Now, you are going to hold this at your waist and when I tell you, put it in your mouth and blow.
Me: Ok.
PA: Put it in your mouth.
Me: (blows)
PA: Ok, we are going to do this again. This time, I want you to put it further in your mouth past your teeth. When I say, put it in your mouth... blow.
Me: (trying not to laugh) Ok.
PA: Put it in your mouth.
Me: (blows)
It took a lot, a lot, for me not to laugh in his face. He was very forceful telling me to put it in my mouth... over and over again. I was like, dude, chill. At least take me on a date first! For reals.
Meanwhile back with the comedian allergist... Apparently he had gotten a few negative comments on City Search and was really self-conscious about the remarks. So self-conscious that he took it upon himself to explain the reason for one of the negative comments. He then asked me to endorse his listing on Yelp. He said that he was trying to develop his profile there. I took it upon myself to throw a little comedy into the mix.
Me: Oh, so you are trying to de-yelp-op it?
Comedy Doc: (blank stare)
Me: De-yel-op it?
Comedy Doc: (blank stare... blinks)
Me: Get it??? De-yelpop ... de-yelp ... (trails off)
Comedy Doc: Uh, huh. Well, here are some nose sprays...
He obviously knows nothing about comedy.
The allergist is an adorable little Jewish Brooklyn man. He won my heart over within five minutes of our consultation; I believe it was right after he told me he did some stand-up comedy. What!? A comedian allergist! Hilarious!
So, I had to get some tests done by the PA before meeting again with my little comedic demon of a doctor. He pricked me with about 50 needles on my forearms. Just to add to the hotness of having allergies, I was now marked as one with allergies. The world is doomed! She who is marked as allergic liiiiivvveess!!! AAaaarrrggh!!
I also had to get an asthma test at the same time. We have to cover every 13 year old's fear during this visit. Next I thought they were going to tell me I had to get braces and that Johnny didn't want to go out with me. Sad.
The following conversation happened:
PA: Ok, so we are going to do an asthma test.
Me: Alright.
PA: Stand here and hold this (hands me a tube). Now, you are going to hold this at your waist and when I tell you, put it in your mouth and blow.
Me: Ok.
PA: Put it in your mouth.
Me: (blows)
PA: Ok, we are going to do this again. This time, I want you to put it further in your mouth past your teeth. When I say, put it in your mouth... blow.
Me: (trying not to laugh) Ok.
PA: Put it in your mouth.
Me: (blows)
It took a lot, a lot, for me not to laugh in his face. He was very forceful telling me to put it in my mouth... over and over again. I was like, dude, chill. At least take me on a date first! For reals.
Meanwhile back with the comedian allergist... Apparently he had gotten a few negative comments on City Search and was really self-conscious about the remarks. So self-conscious that he took it upon himself to explain the reason for one of the negative comments. He then asked me to endorse his listing on Yelp. He said that he was trying to develop his profile there. I took it upon myself to throw a little comedy into the mix.
Me: Oh, so you are trying to de-yelp-op it?
Comedy Doc: (blank stare)
Me: De-yel-op it?
Comedy Doc: (blank stare... blinks)
Me: Get it??? De-yelpop ... de-yelp ... (trails off)
Comedy Doc: Uh, huh. Well, here are some nose sprays...
He obviously knows nothing about comedy.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Twitter Twatter
Today I decided it was time that I get with it and join the latest social networking craze about two years late. I'm SO on top of the times. I just bought a snap bracelet! I hope they are still cool (UPDATE: They are! And I have the wrist bruises to prove it). So, I joined Twitter. So, I left Twitter. All in one day! I've been quite productive. If I do nothing else for the rest of the day, I will feel like I accomplished something! Cocktail time!
My friend, the minx, kept telling me that I needed to join Twitter to get my blog out to the public and to "share the Annie love!" Aww, so sweet! She likes me, she really likes me! The minx, as you can deduce from her code name, is quite one sexy bitch and I just had to listen to her. So, I finally broke down and decided to join this whole status updatey thing that everyone has been telling me about. I mean, what could go wrong! Everything apparently.
I didn't realize that I should probably set up a separate email account and not use my real name, because, you know, I talk about actual people on this blog and that's a big no no in the world of the Internet. I would actually feel bad if someone read something about themselves on here (which actually did happen once, but that is for another entry!).
So, I signed up and at the same time, since I was feeling soooo productive, I set up a fan page on Facebook for the blog and I linked the two. Ah, man. What am I doing? All the while I'm thinking, how I'm really getting shit done today - SO PRODUCTIVE. Meanwhile, this is not a good idea. This is really not a good idea. Twitter prompts you to "follow" people right when you sign up, so of course I select all these wonderful people that I know, but that wasn't the point of me signing up for Twitter. The point was to be anonymous with the blog and let people I don't know read it.
It all just started snowballing. My name was "AwkwardDating," so that I could just write stupid updates about how weird and awkward I am. (Side note: I deleted the Facebook page like 5 min after creating it, but not before invited a ton of people to become a fan. SIGH. I should not be allowed on the Internet.) So, immediately people start following me and sending messages to me. It was complete overload. And a lot of the people sending me messages had never read the blog, but thankfully I didn't actually link to the blog yet. This little fact did not stop me from freaking out for my entire brunch.
I left my apartment a few minutes after changing my social networking life forever only to feel a deep, deep regret. I was meeting up with friends who I haven't seen in a long time, but I could only think about the fact that I now have a Twitter account and people might find out about the blog... people I write about. Gah! What have I done!? The world is doomed! Twitter has outed me as an Internet bitch! GAH!!!!! BOOM EXPLOSION FIREWORKS PEE. All that happened in my head (and pants).
My brain could not stop thinking about the account. "What if they all find my blog?" "Will anyone ever speak to me again?" "Is it really that bad?" "What is vegan bacon?" Then, I left three extremely awkward messages for three of my friends. SUUUUPER awkward. "Hi, um, it's Anne. You are on Twitter. Um, I just set up an account and I'm freaking out. Twitter question. Call me. Ah, yeah. Uuuumm. Ha ha. Yeah, please call. I think I messed up. TWITTER!" But you should know, there were many pauses and dead air during my messages. In one of the messages, I didn't start speaking until 15 seconds after the beep, because I was almost getting hit by a car. Twitter almost killed me. Twitter almost KILLED me. Deal with that one.
Right when I walked through my door, I turned on my computer and deleted my account. All in all, I wasn't a big deal, but I still freaked out. And now, all the world is at peace and I can stop crying. Wait, no I can't. I just can't! I don't have it in me! Tears of joy and allergies!
Moral of the story: I should never attempt to pretend to be productive before 10am on a Sunday before drinking coffee. AND I realized that the Internet scares me. Someone hold me!
My friend, the minx, kept telling me that I needed to join Twitter to get my blog out to the public and to "share the Annie love!" Aww, so sweet! She likes me, she really likes me! The minx, as you can deduce from her code name, is quite one sexy bitch and I just had to listen to her. So, I finally broke down and decided to join this whole status updatey thing that everyone has been telling me about. I mean, what could go wrong! Everything apparently.
I didn't realize that I should probably set up a separate email account and not use my real name, because, you know, I talk about actual people on this blog and that's a big no no in the world of the Internet. I would actually feel bad if someone read something about themselves on here (which actually did happen once, but that is for another entry!).
So, I signed up and at the same time, since I was feeling soooo productive, I set up a fan page on Facebook for the blog and I linked the two. Ah, man. What am I doing? All the while I'm thinking, how I'm really getting shit done today - SO PRODUCTIVE. Meanwhile, this is not a good idea. This is really not a good idea. Twitter prompts you to "follow" people right when you sign up, so of course I select all these wonderful people that I know, but that wasn't the point of me signing up for Twitter. The point was to be anonymous with the blog and let people I don't know read it.
It all just started snowballing. My name was "AwkwardDating," so that I could just write stupid updates about how weird and awkward I am. (Side note: I deleted the Facebook page like 5 min after creating it, but not before invited a ton of people to become a fan. SIGH. I should not be allowed on the Internet.) So, immediately people start following me and sending messages to me. It was complete overload. And a lot of the people sending me messages had never read the blog, but thankfully I didn't actually link to the blog yet. This little fact did not stop me from freaking out for my entire brunch.
I left my apartment a few minutes after changing my social networking life forever only to feel a deep, deep regret. I was meeting up with friends who I haven't seen in a long time, but I could only think about the fact that I now have a Twitter account and people might find out about the blog... people I write about. Gah! What have I done!? The world is doomed! Twitter has outed me as an Internet bitch! GAH!!!!! BOOM EXPLOSION FIREWORKS PEE. All that happened in my head (and pants).
My brain could not stop thinking about the account. "What if they all find my blog?" "Will anyone ever speak to me again?" "Is it really that bad?" "What is vegan bacon?" Then, I left three extremely awkward messages for three of my friends. SUUUUPER awkward. "Hi, um, it's Anne. You are on Twitter. Um, I just set up an account and I'm freaking out. Twitter question. Call me. Ah, yeah. Uuuumm. Ha ha. Yeah, please call. I think I messed up. TWITTER!" But you should know, there were many pauses and dead air during my messages. In one of the messages, I didn't start speaking until 15 seconds after the beep, because I was almost getting hit by a car. Twitter almost killed me. Twitter almost KILLED me. Deal with that one.
Right when I walked through my door, I turned on my computer and deleted my account. All in all, I wasn't a big deal, but I still freaked out. And now, all the world is at peace and I can stop crying. Wait, no I can't. I just can't! I don't have it in me! Tears of joy and allergies!
Moral of the story: I should never attempt to pretend to be productive before 10am on a Sunday before drinking coffee. AND I realized that the Internet scares me. Someone hold me!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Voulez-vous do me?
Foreign guys love me. I don't know what it is. It may be the language barrier. Hmmmm, it's most likely the language barrier. I am really good at looking cute while not understanding what someone is telling me.
There is this one guy who is a regular at the French restaurant that me and the guru frequent. I think he is gorgeous, but the guru is on the fence. He's got that preppy, French businessman look to him, which I find to be super hot. And it's strange because I normally go for guys who wear jeans and crappy tee-shirts. You know, the "I probably don't have a job" look. Sessy.
So, Frenchy French is putting on the heavy flirt with me one night. Telling me how cute my jeans make me look, which obviously means that he's been checking out my ass. My ass is stellar. Out of this world. Interplanetary. Cosmic! PLANETS! SOLAR SYSTEM!!! Anne's ass.
Frenchy French got my number that night, and at 4am I got a call from him. Score! 4am booty call! It's been awhile since that's happened, so I was actually really excited and quite flattered. I was in bed asleep. I pooped out at midnight that night. Like I've said many times before, I'm awesome and not geriatric.
I haven't seen or heard from Frenchy French since then. I had an inkling to call him the next day, but I fought against it. Instead, I picked up my remote control and vat of ice cream and had a date with myself and "CSI". Heaven!
UPDATE!
My friend emailed me and asked if I fell asleep after the 4am booty call, to which I replied, "I totally woke up, looked at my phone, smiled to myself, then promptly went right back to sleep. I'm such a dork!" It's official, I'm a dork.
There is this one guy who is a regular at the French restaurant that me and the guru frequent. I think he is gorgeous, but the guru is on the fence. He's got that preppy, French businessman look to him, which I find to be super hot. And it's strange because I normally go for guys who wear jeans and crappy tee-shirts. You know, the "I probably don't have a job" look. Sessy.
So, Frenchy French is putting on the heavy flirt with me one night. Telling me how cute my jeans make me look, which obviously means that he's been checking out my ass. My ass is stellar. Out of this world. Interplanetary. Cosmic! PLANETS! SOLAR SYSTEM!!! Anne's ass.
Frenchy French got my number that night, and at 4am I got a call from him. Score! 4am booty call! It's been awhile since that's happened, so I was actually really excited and quite flattered. I was in bed asleep. I pooped out at midnight that night. Like I've said many times before, I'm awesome and not geriatric.
I haven't seen or heard from Frenchy French since then. I had an inkling to call him the next day, but I fought against it. Instead, I picked up my remote control and vat of ice cream and had a date with myself and "CSI". Heaven!
UPDATE!
My friend emailed me and asked if I fell asleep after the 4am booty call, to which I replied, "I totally woke up, looked at my phone, smiled to myself, then promptly went right back to sleep. I'm such a dork!" It's official, I'm a dork.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
I Got You on my Sprain
Sometimes, I really amaze myself. I do awesome things all the time. Awesome things that result in me having a sprained ankle. Last Sunday, I was out in the hood with the guru and our good friend. After a lovely dinner at al di la (seriously, it's amazing - I missed dinner, but caught dessert and wine with them), we decided to take the party out in the slope. Woo! Sunday night! My drinking on school nights is getting a little out of hand, but I can never say no to these two. They are simply adorable, and I'm easily persuaded to do almost anything. Within reason, of course!
After a few bars, we decided to go for one more, our nightcap, because, you know, it was only 2am. Fuck, work is going to suck in the a.m. En route, I thought that it would be so fucking cool if I did some freestyle walking. Google that on the internet if you don't know what it is. It's ridiculous. So, after a sweet jump, I fell and twisted my ankle. Me = idiot. It looked RAD though, or so I was told. I have to keep telling myself that, just so I can justify doing something really stupid with the fact that it looked cool. I just need validation! I just need someone to love me! Why won't you love me!? Tear.
Anyway, the ankle wasn't feeling much better after a couple of days, so I decided that it was time to go see a doctor. My boss gave me the name of her ankle specialist. That's right, a specialist. I told her that I twisted my ankle stepping the wrong way off of a curb, leaving out the fact that I had been drinking and was doing a dumb ass stunt. She told me she did the exact same thing. I imagined her freestyle walking and it made me laugh. When she asked what I was laughing about, I just stared at her, then turned the other way. Awkward.
So, I made my way to the doctor's office, and it's official, waiting rooms are strange. Sick people are normal for a waiting room, so is being a fucking weirdo. This waiting room in particular was filled with weirdos. People not knowing how to fill out their form. People coughing. People all in my space. Listen, lady, my bag is sitting there. OK? You can take any of the 10 other seats open. MmmmKthanks.
The nurse calls me into the patient room off of the waiting room. I never understand this part of being in a doctor's office. I usually have to wait 10 more minutes in that little room, but in this case the doctor comes in right away which is a nice little treat. It's also a nice little treat that he's HOT. H-O-T-T hot. He actually looks surprised at my appearance. I'm normal looking. I deduced that he was surprised that I wasn't a weirdo, like all of the weirdos in the waiting room. Already off to a good start! I asked him to marry me right then and there. The end.
OH snap! Fooled you! I totes didn't do that, but it would have been pretty ballsy (and awweesome).
So, he takes a look at my ankle, and asks me if I've been wrapping it. I told him that I was using my high top Chucks to brace my ankle. I'm inventive and creative with healing techniques! I will surely impress him with my medical knowledge! As I'm showing him my ankle, like, angling it so he can see the bruising, he says, "Oh, can you just turn a little bit?" So I angle more, propping myself completely onto my side while sitting in a chair. I was thinking, "This is such an awkward position, why does he want me to turn like this?" He says, "No, could you just sit normally?" Nice. Real, nice, Anne. "Oh, ha. Of course. So stupid of me!" He is really charming though and jokes around with me a bit about my ankle, so I'm not being too awkward. ...Yet.
He then took me to get an X-ray and as he is putting that heavy X-ray blanket thing on me, he says, "So, I have to ask this... Are you pregnant?" My response: "NO. Ha ha. NO. Definitely not pregnant. Definitely not." Uh oh. Jesus, stop talking! Stop yourself from saying anything more! I can feel myself wanting to joke around and say something really stupid. It's building up and I know I'm going to make an ass out of myself in front of this handsome and charming doctor. He says, "Well, you know, I never ask the guys that! Ha ha." Me: "Yeah, I guess not. I was going say um ha ha did you uh say think I was ff fff fat. Ha ha."
Mmmm. There it is. There you go. The awkward has been revealed like I knew it would. He laughed a small uncomfortable laugh as he silently judged me, then said, "OK, so look to your left and you will see the X-ray."
Yup. I'm back, people!
After a few bars, we decided to go for one more, our nightcap, because, you know, it was only 2am. Fuck, work is going to suck in the a.m. En route, I thought that it would be so fucking cool if I did some freestyle walking. Google that on the internet if you don't know what it is. It's ridiculous. So, after a sweet jump, I fell and twisted my ankle. Me = idiot. It looked RAD though, or so I was told. I have to keep telling myself that, just so I can justify doing something really stupid with the fact that it looked cool. I just need validation! I just need someone to love me! Why won't you love me!? Tear.
Anyway, the ankle wasn't feeling much better after a couple of days, so I decided that it was time to go see a doctor. My boss gave me the name of her ankle specialist. That's right, a specialist. I told her that I twisted my ankle stepping the wrong way off of a curb, leaving out the fact that I had been drinking and was doing a dumb ass stunt. She told me she did the exact same thing. I imagined her freestyle walking and it made me laugh. When she asked what I was laughing about, I just stared at her, then turned the other way. Awkward.
So, I made my way to the doctor's office, and it's official, waiting rooms are strange. Sick people are normal for a waiting room, so is being a fucking weirdo. This waiting room in particular was filled with weirdos. People not knowing how to fill out their form. People coughing. People all in my space. Listen, lady, my bag is sitting there. OK? You can take any of the 10 other seats open. MmmmKthanks.
The nurse calls me into the patient room off of the waiting room. I never understand this part of being in a doctor's office. I usually have to wait 10 more minutes in that little room, but in this case the doctor comes in right away which is a nice little treat. It's also a nice little treat that he's HOT. H-O-T-T hot. He actually looks surprised at my appearance. I'm normal looking. I deduced that he was surprised that I wasn't a weirdo, like all of the weirdos in the waiting room. Already off to a good start! I asked him to marry me right then and there. The end.
OH snap! Fooled you! I totes didn't do that, but it would have been pretty ballsy (and awweesome).
So, he takes a look at my ankle, and asks me if I've been wrapping it. I told him that I was using my high top Chucks to brace my ankle. I'm inventive and creative with healing techniques! I will surely impress him with my medical knowledge! As I'm showing him my ankle, like, angling it so he can see the bruising, he says, "Oh, can you just turn a little bit?" So I angle more, propping myself completely onto my side while sitting in a chair. I was thinking, "This is such an awkward position, why does he want me to turn like this?" He says, "No, could you just sit normally?" Nice. Real, nice, Anne. "Oh, ha. Of course. So stupid of me!" He is really charming though and jokes around with me a bit about my ankle, so I'm not being too awkward. ...Yet.
He then took me to get an X-ray and as he is putting that heavy X-ray blanket thing on me, he says, "So, I have to ask this... Are you pregnant?" My response: "NO. Ha ha. NO. Definitely not pregnant. Definitely not." Uh oh. Jesus, stop talking! Stop yourself from saying anything more! I can feel myself wanting to joke around and say something really stupid. It's building up and I know I'm going to make an ass out of myself in front of this handsome and charming doctor. He says, "Well, you know, I never ask the guys that! Ha ha." Me: "Yeah, I guess not. I was going say um ha ha did you uh say think I was ff fff fat. Ha ha."
Mmmm. There it is. There you go. The awkward has been revealed like I knew it would. He laughed a small uncomfortable laugh as he silently judged me, then said, "OK, so look to your left and you will see the X-ray."
Yup. I'm back, people!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Is That a Mirror in Your Pants
Yesterday, my friend IM'ed me with this: "I can't believe I slept with two guys at once." This was the first thing she said. There was no, "Hey, so crazy story!" or, "Hey there! Listen to this one." She just laid it all out there.
This is what went through my head when she told me the "news:"
"Oh WHAT! Um, uh. Ok. Wow. How does that even work? I would be so confused. Uh, I'm not quite sure how to respond to this. So, does one guy just stand there an wait until the other one is finished? Are there multiple 'goings-on'? I don't want to think about this! Jeez. But, seriously, how does that work!?"
This is how I responded:
"WHAT! Way to get my attention!"
Then I went on to think:
"What would I do if this option was suddenly available to me? Would I do it? How would they ask me? 'Hey, so we want to do you at the same time.' That's probably not how they would ask. It would probably be something like, 'We want to stick it in you at the same time.' No, that's probably not right either, and that's pretty much what I thought initially. I think I would have to turn them down, because of sheer confusion."
Seriously how DOES that work!?
This is what went through my head when she told me the "news:"
"Oh WHAT! Um, uh. Ok. Wow. How does that even work? I would be so confused. Uh, I'm not quite sure how to respond to this. So, does one guy just stand there an wait until the other one is finished? Are there multiple 'goings-on'? I don't want to think about this! Jeez. But, seriously, how does that work!?"
This is how I responded:
"WHAT! Way to get my attention!"
Then I went on to think:
"What would I do if this option was suddenly available to me? Would I do it? How would they ask me? 'Hey, so we want to do you at the same time.' That's probably not how they would ask. It would probably be something like, 'We want to stick it in you at the same time.' No, that's probably not right either, and that's pretty much what I thought initially. I think I would have to turn them down, because of sheer confusion."
Seriously how DOES that work!?
Friday, September 25, 2009
Falling Over in Failure
A few nights ago, the guru and I went out for a classy dinner in Park Slope. Some people may think we are dating when we dine together, because of all the laughing and making out, but, aahhh, we are not an item and we don't really make out... in public. After an amazing dinner, we thought we should go out for one more drink. We were on a mission. "It's Wednesday night. Let's pick up some dudes!" Our motto for the evening.
We made our way to our favorite watering hole, but unfortunately our favorite bartender wasn't working, so we were absent friendly banter and free Stella. Ah, well, let's find the dudes!
We staked our claim of awesome seats in plain view of a group of guys who we referred to as "The Apatow Crew," because one guy looked like Jonah Hill, except skinnier. The entire group was named for one kid who barely resembled Jonah Hill. We are awesome. So, we had these awesome seats, but after getting up for a smoke, we saw some nice seats open on the couches. The guru opted for these seats. Very comfortable. I get tired thinking about hitting on guys. Just thinking about it! Imagine if it actually happened.
I was wondering why she wanted to sit on the couches, because we weren't really in view of the guys we wanted to hit on. She told me that she didn't want to be obvious, but I'm like fuck it. Who cares? It's a Wednesday night and we are at a bar. So, we picked some new seats in better view of the guys. She then revealed to me that she can only hit on guys when there is a big crowd of people, and this bar was none too crowded. I'm the opposite. I feel like I have a better chance when there aren't as many people around. Less chance of the busty blonde coming and messing everything up! I mean really. Can you just give me a break, busty blonde!?
That was when I devised my master plan. The boys were playing bocce ball, which was en route to the bathroom... My plan was to go to the bathroom, then on the way back "fall" into one of the guys. It was genius! Brilliant! The most amazing plan ever! Except, when I got back up from the bathroom, the guys were in a different location and it just threw me off completely.
So, I sat down and continued to drink, and we never talked to The Apatow Crew or any guys for that matter.
The End.
We made our way to our favorite watering hole, but unfortunately our favorite bartender wasn't working, so we were absent friendly banter and free Stella. Ah, well, let's find the dudes!
We staked our claim of awesome seats in plain view of a group of guys who we referred to as "The Apatow Crew," because one guy looked like Jonah Hill, except skinnier. The entire group was named for one kid who barely resembled Jonah Hill. We are awesome. So, we had these awesome seats, but after getting up for a smoke, we saw some nice seats open on the couches. The guru opted for these seats. Very comfortable. I get tired thinking about hitting on guys. Just thinking about it! Imagine if it actually happened.
I was wondering why she wanted to sit on the couches, because we weren't really in view of the guys we wanted to hit on. She told me that she didn't want to be obvious, but I'm like fuck it. Who cares? It's a Wednesday night and we are at a bar. So, we picked some new seats in better view of the guys. She then revealed to me that she can only hit on guys when there is a big crowd of people, and this bar was none too crowded. I'm the opposite. I feel like I have a better chance when there aren't as many people around. Less chance of the busty blonde coming and messing everything up! I mean really. Can you just give me a break, busty blonde!?
That was when I devised my master plan. The boys were playing bocce ball, which was en route to the bathroom... My plan was to go to the bathroom, then on the way back "fall" into one of the guys. It was genius! Brilliant! The most amazing plan ever! Except, when I got back up from the bathroom, the guys were in a different location and it just threw me off completely.
So, I sat down and continued to drink, and we never talked to The Apatow Crew or any guys for that matter.
The End.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Pee Your Pants to my Heart
Yesterday on the subway, I sat next to a man who had most definitely peed himself. He may have been asleep, but I think he was hitting on me! Those pheromones! Swoon.
Also, today on the subway, a woman was reading the book, Booty Call. I wonder what that's about! Sounds sassy.
Also, today on the subway, a woman was reading the book, Booty Call. I wonder what that's about! Sounds sassy.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wedding to Get in Your Pants
Friends of the blogosphere! I come here to lay my latest knowledge on you! It's a rainy rainy day in NYC right now. I'm all snuggled up in a large hooded sweatshirt looking like quite the criminal. Criminally adorable! As you all know, I'm super lazy and never get around to posting on this site, but I have a good story to tell, so here goes it!
Weddings are great. They are usually a lot of fun and who doesn't like seeing their friends having the times of their lives uniting as a couple! Well, probably a lot of bitter (read: ugly) people, who think they will never find love or a decent relationship. Well, that ain't so, lady eating from the 16 oz ice cream carton (read: me). As the saying goes, there is someone out there for everyone! That particular someone for me is my cat. Sigh.
My friends got married a couple of weeks ago. They are really good friends from college and I was over the top excited for this wedding. Though, I was a little hesitant, because a) I'm single and b) my ex-boyfriend was going to be there with his current girlfriend. There isn't any bad blood between me and my ex, but those situations always tend to be a little awkward no matter how cool you play it (read: I'm extremely awkward). I had to make sure I had the perfect dress, but nothing that would make it seem that I was trying too hard. After shopping in 20 stores in 4 different states, I finally found the dress! My sister sighed a sigh of relief and told me she wasn't going to talk to me for at least 2 weeks. I can be really demanding when I want something!
The wedding was just amazing. The bride glowing, the groom grinning - it was a sight to be seen. Right when I get there, I see the ex. It's good to see him, actually! And I like his girlfriend, which is weird and awesome at the same time. I sit with one of my friends and he says to me, "Oh god, I'm so glad you are here!" which is always nice to hear. I have to keep my people happy, yo! In the row in front of us sat five dudes. I thought to myself, "things might be looking up! There might be some cute single dudes here. NICE!" Then I immediately thought, "Keep it cool, keep it cool. Don't be awkward. Oh god, I'm going to be really awkward. Fuck." I notice one guy in particular checking me out. Score!
Flash forward to the wedding dinner. They sat me at the same table as my ex. Awesome. In all honesty though, it was nice to talk to him and just have fun. I also sat next to this really fun chick that I went to college with, so it was all good. Oh, what's that!? That guy is looking at me from his table. Not so sneaky! I seeee you! I didn't end up talking to this guy until the LAST SONG. He would occasionally glance my way, but that was it! I was thinking, "Ok, maybe is just wondering who I am and what I'm doing here. NO! NO! I look fucking CUTE. He's definitely checking me out."
So, he finally asks me to dance. Mind you, this is the last song and the only other people dancing are the people in the wedding party. I feel immediately awkward, of course, but he turns out to be a really cool guy. He is friends with everyone from Philly. We ended up hanging out at the after party at the bar, then the after after party in my hotel room. HEY-O! Hold your horses, there were other people there too and we were trying to decide what pizza place to order from. Flash forward an hour when we discover that all the pizza places are closed.
During this time, I find out that the guy doesn't have a room to stay in for the night; he was just planning to crash with someone. Who comes to a wedding without a place to stay? Really? So, No Room, here and I are definitely hitting it off, despite the fact that he came to a wedding without a place to stay. By the time everyone is leaving, I say, "Well, you can just crash here. On the floor. If you want." So awkward. But it worked. He ended up staying in my room (I swear I'm not a hussy!), and we ended up just making out for awhile then passing out. Seriously, just making out. I'm a lady.
Morning rolls around, we make out a little more. And then, I realize it's bordering on 10am and there was supposed to be a brunch that I really want to go to. How do I get him to leave my room? I was practically twiddling my thumbs as we were making out, because I was just waiting for him to smoothly make an exit. I wanted to get up and shower and eat. I'm so finicky sometimes! But he just stayed right there in my bed. Trying to seduce me. Rough life I lead. Finally, I was like, OK I'm kicking you out. I need to get up. It's now around 10:30ish.
I see him down at the brunch, play it cool (read: try to completely ignore him because I feel slightly awkward). I actually don't do so bad. We talk a little then say our goodbyes. All-in-all I had fun hanging out with him, but it was a bit of an insane situation. He didn't have a room? What?
Flash forward, two weeks later, I got a facebook message from him (yes, he friended me) that was prefaced with, "you may find this to be a little weird." Um, ok? Good start, buddy. You got me on the edge of my seat just wanting to know how weird I am going to feel. He ended up asking me if I wanted to go to a wedding with him over Labor Day weekend. Exsqueeze me? Forward much? How about, how are you? Wanna go out on a date sometime? Maybe I should have called you to ask you this question, since it's kind of a big deal? Maybe we should get to know each other a little better, before we are forced to stay in a hotel room together for a weekend with all of our mutual friends? AWWwwwkkkwaaard. I had to let him down easy, mostly because I have plans for the holiday weekend, but I still wouldn't have gone. That's just not my style! I'm a lady!
SIIIIiiighh. Good times all around, but there were definitely some interesting moments. Turns out, I'm not the most awkward person in the world! Isn't that a mindfuck?
Weddings are great. They are usually a lot of fun and who doesn't like seeing their friends having the times of their lives uniting as a couple! Well, probably a lot of bitter (read: ugly) people, who think they will never find love or a decent relationship. Well, that ain't so, lady eating from the 16 oz ice cream carton (read: me). As the saying goes, there is someone out there for everyone! That particular someone for me is my cat. Sigh.
My friends got married a couple of weeks ago. They are really good friends from college and I was over the top excited for this wedding. Though, I was a little hesitant, because a) I'm single and b) my ex-boyfriend was going to be there with his current girlfriend. There isn't any bad blood between me and my ex, but those situations always tend to be a little awkward no matter how cool you play it (read: I'm extremely awkward). I had to make sure I had the perfect dress, but nothing that would make it seem that I was trying too hard. After shopping in 20 stores in 4 different states, I finally found the dress! My sister sighed a sigh of relief and told me she wasn't going to talk to me for at least 2 weeks. I can be really demanding when I want something!
The wedding was just amazing. The bride glowing, the groom grinning - it was a sight to be seen. Right when I get there, I see the ex. It's good to see him, actually! And I like his girlfriend, which is weird and awesome at the same time. I sit with one of my friends and he says to me, "Oh god, I'm so glad you are here!" which is always nice to hear. I have to keep my people happy, yo! In the row in front of us sat five dudes. I thought to myself, "things might be looking up! There might be some cute single dudes here. NICE!" Then I immediately thought, "Keep it cool, keep it cool. Don't be awkward. Oh god, I'm going to be really awkward. Fuck." I notice one guy in particular checking me out. Score!
Flash forward to the wedding dinner. They sat me at the same table as my ex. Awesome. In all honesty though, it was nice to talk to him and just have fun. I also sat next to this really fun chick that I went to college with, so it was all good. Oh, what's that!? That guy is looking at me from his table. Not so sneaky! I seeee you! I didn't end up talking to this guy until the LAST SONG. He would occasionally glance my way, but that was it! I was thinking, "Ok, maybe is just wondering who I am and what I'm doing here. NO! NO! I look fucking CUTE. He's definitely checking me out."
So, he finally asks me to dance. Mind you, this is the last song and the only other people dancing are the people in the wedding party. I feel immediately awkward, of course, but he turns out to be a really cool guy. He is friends with everyone from Philly. We ended up hanging out at the after party at the bar, then the after after party in my hotel room. HEY-O! Hold your horses, there were other people there too and we were trying to decide what pizza place to order from. Flash forward an hour when we discover that all the pizza places are closed.
During this time, I find out that the guy doesn't have a room to stay in for the night; he was just planning to crash with someone. Who comes to a wedding without a place to stay? Really? So, No Room, here and I are definitely hitting it off, despite the fact that he came to a wedding without a place to stay. By the time everyone is leaving, I say, "Well, you can just crash here. On the floor. If you want." So awkward. But it worked. He ended up staying in my room (I swear I'm not a hussy!), and we ended up just making out for awhile then passing out. Seriously, just making out. I'm a lady.
Morning rolls around, we make out a little more. And then, I realize it's bordering on 10am and there was supposed to be a brunch that I really want to go to. How do I get him to leave my room? I was practically twiddling my thumbs as we were making out, because I was just waiting for him to smoothly make an exit. I wanted to get up and shower and eat. I'm so finicky sometimes! But he just stayed right there in my bed. Trying to seduce me. Rough life I lead. Finally, I was like, OK I'm kicking you out. I need to get up. It's now around 10:30ish.
I see him down at the brunch, play it cool (read: try to completely ignore him because I feel slightly awkward). I actually don't do so bad. We talk a little then say our goodbyes. All-in-all I had fun hanging out with him, but it was a bit of an insane situation. He didn't have a room? What?
Flash forward, two weeks later, I got a facebook message from him (yes, he friended me) that was prefaced with, "you may find this to be a little weird." Um, ok? Good start, buddy. You got me on the edge of my seat just wanting to know how weird I am going to feel. He ended up asking me if I wanted to go to a wedding with him over Labor Day weekend. Exsqueeze me? Forward much? How about, how are you? Wanna go out on a date sometime? Maybe I should have called you to ask you this question, since it's kind of a big deal? Maybe we should get to know each other a little better, before we are forced to stay in a hotel room together for a weekend with all of our mutual friends? AWWwwwkkkwaaard. I had to let him down easy, mostly because I have plans for the holiday weekend, but I still wouldn't have gone. That's just not my style! I'm a lady!
SIIIIiiighh. Good times all around, but there were definitely some interesting moments. Turns out, I'm not the most awkward person in the world! Isn't that a mindfuck?
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