Today's blog is going to be a smorgasbord of god knows what, and frankly I don't apologize for it. Find me a writer who would be more concise two pitchers of margaritas deep with little to no food and I will find you a liar. OK. I had things to write. What were they? OH MY GOD, YES:
1.) Can I please tell you a disguising yet completely TRUE story? Last night I went over to Andrew's apartment to play Chatroulette. YES, I said I would never do Chatroulettte again, true, but Alex had never done it before and I kind of wanted to be there the first time he did it. (Side note: I have the most ferocious hiccups at the moment and it hurts like fuck.) So anyway, Tuesday night, I don't know if you know this, but it was hot as fuck here in DC. But like seriously, hot as fuck. Oh my god, these hiccups are genuinely very painful. Anway, there we were, Andrew, Meg and Alex, a-playing Chatroutlette and it was hot as fuck in Andrew's apartment as it his AC wasn't turned on. I decided to deal with this heat by putting an ice cube down my shirt, letting it melt and blowing air down my blouse. (DOUBLE SIDE NOTE: 1.) Hiccups. I have never been in so much in my life. 2.) Between me and you, I'm not just being suggestive, the air down my shirt felt so unbelievably good. So being slightly drunk, I got a little kooky as the ice cube melted and dared Alex to eat the ice cube that had been lingering down my shirt for the past five minutes as a goof.
Upon hearing this dare, Alex jumped at the opportunity. (Side note: Jesus Christ. Seriously. These hiccups have to go. I am currently holding my breath. Let's see how long this lasts. 2:30-2:25. Uhh, OK, we went back in time by five minutes, so that's unique. I seem to be OK for the time being...Is the phrase "OK" or "Ok"? Things to ponder and/or Google...let's move on and not talk about it because if we do, it'll make it worse.) ANYWHOO, Alex jumped at the opportunity to eat my boob ice. I adequately warned him that the ice cute in question had been hanging out betwixt my boobs, yet he didn't seem fazed in the least.
"If I do this, you owe me $1o," he reiterated.
"You sure you want to do this?" I asked him.
Over and over again, he egged me on to give him the ice. So finally I fished out the 3/4 of the melted piece of ice cube in my bra, popped it in Alex's mouth and proceeded to die slightly. I am so mind-boggled on multiple levels:
1.) Ew. I mean, it's my own boobs and ew, I wouldn't even eat that ice. I had showered earlier that day, but still. Alex, I love you more than pretty much anything in the entire world, but I'm going to be candid in telling you that if you ever put a piece of ice floating about your balls, I'd rather pretty much shoot myself in the face than consume it. And you're really attractive. God bless.
2.) Dude. If I'm being candid with you, you make more than anyone I know. You have an incredibly good job working as an assistant press secretary for a state representative--you're salary is pretty fuckin' sweet. And more to the point; you really fuckin' earn it. Why are you so desperate for 10-dollars? I mean, last time I checked, I'm unemployed/and/or a free blogger/and/or working meager retail. And, true story, the last the I was unemployed, I earned $15 snoring a line of freshly cracked pepper on a dare form my dad. You don't need that kind of goof money. You're good to go! Ergo, I hope you understand that that money is never going to see the light of day. Love you dearly. XOXO.
3.) Evie McBlogger owes me $3o. Yeah. Big time. Maybe I wouldn't have so many fiscal problems if I wasn't collecting money from felines, true, but it still stands. When I went home to gank my college computer in lieu of the new laptop I can no longer afford, I grabbed the ethernet cord I left at home as well. When I went to hook up said cord, I discovered said feline had chewed completely through said cord, so I had to go to Radio Shack and get a new ethernet cord for $30. American. Yeah. Save your tree-house dollars, Miss McBlogger. And save 'em good. (No really. this is the true state of my current affairs: I'm blogging drunk and collecting money from my parent's cat. It's touch-and-go, to the save the least.)
4.) FYI: Co-Blogger Chris resigned from the blog yesterday. WAMP, WAMP! Chris is currently trying to get a job as an officer in the foreign service, so I think we'll all agree that blogging on a blog as grossly inappropriate as this one isn't the best idea in the entire world. That being said, Chris and I are still biffles^max (thank Christ almighty), so I promise you'll still be hearing updates about his life often. Chris—we, as a group, thank you for sharing your life with us, as it's genuinley not as easy as you think it is to do. Not to break the fourth wall, but Chris is very seriously one of the most important people in my entire life, so from me to you, thank you for dedicating so much of your time to my personal project. It means a lot to me. We look forward to your exciting future!
5.) In his absence, we welcome one of my all-time favorite writers and human beings period, Tulane Chris! Tulane Chris and his ex-writing partner had a blog years before Ex-Co-Blogger Eddie and I did and were the real inspiration for us to start 2b1b in the first place. I'd be a real Cunty McGee to try to try to replace Co-Blogger Chris with Tulane Chris, so I'm flat-out not even trying to. I love both Chris' in different ways (specifically I've hooked up with Tulane Chris whereas I haven't Co-Blogger Chris. [HA HA, jay/kay. Co-Blogger Chris and I have seen some mighty inappropriate moments in our day. I'm a ho.] So I'm not trying to draw any comparisons.) All I can say is I hope you enjoy Tulane Chris and his writing as much as I have for years and I'm incredibly excited to see what he has in store for us!
6.) My hiccups are back with a vengeance.
7.) Holding my breath...
8.) We seem to be OK.
9.) I'd just like you to know that I'm trying so hard not to pass out while writing this. It's so tempting. I have such a long day tomorrow. Ugh.
10.) Speaking of contributing writers, Queer Abby wasn't as warmly received last week as I'd thought it would be. And I'm torn. I really, really like Amy and her advice and don't want to get rid of her that quick, but I want to honor what you guys want. So let's go one more week, huh? Cool? Cool. Viva Amy!
I hope you can help me out here. I am crazy in love with this guy I met last year. He just isn't into me, unfortunately. HOW DO I GET OVER HIM?
He told me that he wants to meet new people so he doesn't want to date me exclusively. Broken hearted and in an attempt to get over him, I tried to severe all ties with him, but he got upset and convinced me to continue talking to him. So I am back at square one, a love struck 25 year old woman texting this guy, hoping to get him to change his mind about me. We've hooked up a couple times..again it was my attempt at getting him to like me. Sometimes he initiates a conversation with me, making it just that much harder to distance myself from him.
How do I get over him? Should I continue talking to him 'cuz he might just change his mind..eventually? I am thinking of telling him upfront that we should stop talking to each other altogether 'cuz I am way too broken hearted to be his sideline girl.
Please help me. I can't afford to see a shrink. I really need your help.
There is a lot I could say, but I worry the point will get lost if I say too much, so here’s the take away:
DON’T WAIT FOR HIM TO CHANGE HIS MIND. WALK AWAY NOW AND DON’T BOTHER EXPLAINING IT TO HIM.
Seriously, the DC Metro Area has more than 2.5 million men in it- find one who respects you enough to know that it’s totally dick to ask you to stick around while he ‘meets other people.’ Fuck that noise.
Besides I heard he bites his toenails.Meg's advice: Dude. I have been here. Time and time and time again. And again. Here's my tipsy piece of advice: fuck someone who doesn't want to be with you. It's his loss. Seriously. Just say good day to him. I know that's such a piece of like, TEE-HEE! LeT's eAt a CheEsEcAkE & DaNcE aRoUnD tHe KitChEN tAbLe!!!!1 advice, but personally, I have no time for someone who doesn't have time for me and you need to adopt the same attitude. I know it seems grossly cheesy, but when I see how Becca's fiance will do literally anything to make her happy, it makes me realize that someone, somewhere is dying to do the same for me and fuck every single guy who isn't him. Seriously. I burn bridges with guys like a torch dipped in kerosene in the meantime. I'm sure this guy seems great, but nuts to him if he doesn't see how wonderful you are. When I was out to dinner with Becky Tuesday night, she said something I loved:
Some guys are A-fucks and you need to adopt a "good day to you" attitude in the mean time. You're going to feel so silly when you meet the guy of you dreams and he treats you wonderfully vs. the compost this asshole treats you like. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
So I'm 22 and a lesbian. I came out during my second year of college, so I sort of got a slow start to the whole "being gay in a big city" thing. I started dating my first (and only) girlfriend when I was home in the Midwest for the summer, and she was awesome and beautiful and for some reason I will never understand, she loved me, like REALLY loved me. We broke up awhile ago because long-distance is retarded, especially because there's really no chance we'll ever end up in the same place. But now that I'm trying to date and "get on the scene," I've realized I have no idea how. I joined OKCupid, but every time I meet up with someone, it always end up being a friendly thing, not a date-thing. Lesbians scare me. I have no idea how to act around them, which I think probably has something to do with the fact that my ex was the only girl I ever dated. And I've been told I look like I'm straight (which pisses me off to no end), and I don't think that helps matters. Basically, I'm a 22-year-old baby-dyke in a city where 16-year-olds have more experience than I do. I have no idea how to go about this, and I thought you might have some words of wisdom. Thanks in advance!
So much here worth commenting on, I could write a book.
As it happens I drank too much tonight to do that right now, so I’m going to give you some advice that everyone reading this needs to take: Go to Jello wrestling at Phase One on Wednesday night next week. Gay, straight or heteroflexible, it’ll be entirely ridiculous and probably confirm every lesbian stereotype you know—so basically, it’s the single best reason ever to go out on a Wednesday night. Fun will start around 11 and don’t worry, I PROMISE I’ll be in worse shape than you at work on Thursday. Also, I will take whoever sends me a picture of the most convincing Justin Beiber look alike there out to drinks.
As for you, Baby Dyke, you need to go up to the bartender and tell her Queer Abby sent you. If she looks like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about, go to the other bartender—she will introduce you to some people and give you some pointers on how to get in the loop re: the lesbian scene in DC. Put the dating on hold for a minute, at least until you realize that you’re in no way a second-class lesbian-- no matter how femme you are, when you came out or how many women you’ve dated. I’m hoping that will happen once you’ve made some good friends and gotten a little more comfortable in the community.
Dude, despite what my mom might tell you, I'm not a lesbian and I totally relate to the whole "how the hell do I meet people?!" thing. I've recently come to terms with the fact that I'd like to start seeing people again, despite the fact that the last person I saw broke my heart into 10,000 distinct little pieces and I'm not even ashamed of it. That being said, I genuinley have no idea of how you meet new people; gay or straight. I don't mean to talk obsessively about Becky, but again, we were just talking about this last night. I asked her how you meet single guys and she laughed in my face and said she had been banking on meeting single guys at my birthday shindig next weekend. To which I laughed in her face. And in the end we agreed she'd just end up drunkenly making out with Alex. So really what I'm trying to say is—GOOD QUESTION!
I've been with my boyfriend for 3+ years, I'm 25 and he's about to turn 30. I don't wanna get married until im 50, but I'm not opposed to wearing promise rings. Should I buy us promise rings? Or should I tell myself that promise rings are the gayest thing on the planet.
First I’m just gonna say I don’t understand the promise ring thing. Is it like getting engaged to get engaged? Why the extra step? That sounds… expensive at very least, and non-committal at most. All the same, I’m going to answer your question with a serious of questions, ‘cause that’s how I roll.
-Do you have a legitimate reason for not wanting to get married until you’re 50, but you know it’s him you eventually want to gimp down the isle with, and you want to let him know that now? Do it. It’s a sweet gesture and who doesn’t like presents (although I would save yourself the money and call it an engagement ring so you don’t have to buy another one later).
-Do you not want to get married until you’re 50 because you don’t want to commit until then? If so, I think giving a promise ring is a little disingenuous. Wait to make promises until you know you can/want to keep them. Give everything you can give to the relationship right now and see how it goes. Besides, if he wants to get married now, a promise ring is not going to stay his desire to get married or squelch the conversation for 2 years, much less 25.
-Has your bf never mentioned the possibility of marriage, but you want something to ensure that he is/will stay/will feel committed? Don’t do it; that’s gay. If we were friends I would give you shit. If I was your boyfriend, I’d pat you on the head, say that’s sweet and wear your ring, but it wouldn’t mean as much to me as it did to you.
Do you just want an excuse/reason to give him a ring, or some other token of affection, to affirm how you feel about him now? Not gay! (just don’t call it a promise ring.
So there you go, I’m 1/2 in favor of ring-giving (until I can think of more scenarios). But what it comes down to is this: promise rings, engagement and marriage are all one in the same- an expression of love, commitment and intention. Only do it if you really, really mean it. If you’re not there, that’s totally fine; just enjoy the relationship, see what happens and don’t get ahead of yourself.
Perosnally, I don't understand promise rings in the fuckin' least. They say: "I'm ready to spend the rest of my entire life with you. But not quiiiiiiiiiite yet." Either commit or not, you pussy.
Sorry, that was rough. BUT SERIOUSLY. It's like the pre-cum of jewelery and I feel oddly strongly about it. XOXO.
As of 5:09am, April 9, 2010, Larry Hagman is...alive! Oh, I'm sorry, is his beating the odds "getting old" for you? I recommend another blog then. Good day to you, sir. (Take note, single ladies.)
The morning after. I have felt better. And I have to be at work in half an hour. Why do I do this to myself? That being said, I am highly impressed I wrote as much as I did last night. I should mention the reason I got so drunk is because Laura came over and we drank two pitchers of margaritas and watched Woody Allen's Everything You Wanted to Know about Sex...a unique movie, to say the least. Thus, I leave you with this week's drinking game--The Everything You Wanted to Know...drinking game!
- "I fell on my bells."
- A ghost appears
- The movie is significantly weirder than you anticipated it would be
- Gene Wilder, good to see you
- Someone falls in love with a sheep
- A sheep wears a garter belt and nylons
- "Go easy on my hymen"
- Subtitles appear on screen
- Someone says "foreplay" in Italian
- You have the following exchange:
Meg: I'm attracted to Woody Allen pretending to be Italian. And I'm confused by it.
Laura: Yeah. Well. I was attracted to Gene Wilder seduce a goat. So. No judgments.
- Regis Philbin makes a guest appearance
- It goes there like Degrassi. (i.e. when a rabai gets tied up and whipped while his wife sits at his feet and eats pork. Or when 20 cub scouts bang out a journalist.)
- Someone has a stereotypically Jewish last name
- A giant 40-foot breast with an erect nipple attacks someone by shooting half and half.
- "I thought you were going to get nursed to death."
- Said giant breast is given to an orphanage because "there's a lot of mouths to feed."
- You vomit
- BURT. FUCKING. REYNOLDS.
Have a great weekend. We love you. See you Monday. Pray for me getting through today's shift at work. Kay, off to pull the trigger.