Drinking Game Tuesday: because sometimes Drinking Game Friday can't come quickly enough

Don't forget! Tonight is the series finale of Starving for Affection More to Love! I recommend you get yourself a hearty vat of home style gravy, mix it two-parts vodka and one-part Bailey's and pour yourself a tall glass of "Luke Juice" while you play The More to Love Drinking Game!


(A big, fat, emotional thank you to readers Emah and Dawn for coming up with this one! For a second I thought I was going to have to watch this shit sober...)

THE MORE TO LOVE DRINKING GAME

(Tuesdays are the new Fridays...for fat people)

Rules:
Drink When:
- Luke's muffin top makes an appearance

- A "because I'm fat, I've never..." statement is made

- Anyone cries as a result of a "because I'm fat, I've never..." statement

- Binge eating

- Awkward fat people hugs

- Whenever you get a mental picture of what Luke will find when he goes up the dress for The Tranny's garter at their wedding

- Crying in general

- Man boobs

- Host(ess) Emme looks particularly manish

- Luke says something pervy

- Someone waddles

- Luke says some lame scripted line about loving large women

- Luke's parents talk about loving fat girls

- Awkward parent moment

- Shot gun a beer when the loser cries over the proposal

- Shut gun another beer when the winner cries over the proposal

DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD!!!!

So, as per usual, I'm sick. I called out of work yesterday and spent the majority of the day in bed snuggling a box of Mucinex and a bottle of Gatorade. (Clairitin D < Mucinex, by the way. Hardcore.) Boss #1 gave me attitude when I called out (which is infuriating, given last week's shenanigans) so I decided I better man-up and come in today. Boss #2 called this morning to make sure I was feeling better (read: to make sure I actually showed up) and I was irritated until she told me the most glorious news:

MARK THE BIG GAY CO-WORKER GOT FIRED YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Replace Carleton with me, and the Bank's living room with my office and you pretty much have a scarily accurate depiction of what I've been doing all morning:


Although I'm pretty sure he got fired for bailing on a bunch of important meetings, I'd like to think my midnight drunken gossip session with Boss #1 about what a giant turd he was played a major part in the firing as well. And my mom said my negative attitude wouldn't get me anywhere...

Welp! Off to plan a last minute lunch and happy hour for Boss #1 while trying not to snarffle all over everything. God I'm attractive. Hearty posts for the rest of the week, I totes swearz it.

Touched for the very first time...in a long time

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been all about nostalgia these days. First, it was a reminiscence of my days on AIM; next, I took a look back at Facebook through the years. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the most nerve-wracking period in my entire life thus far. Back when I was a virgin. Everyone remember those days? When you’d get a boner (or lady-boner) from watching paint dry. Or you masturbated so much your hand started to chafe? No? Only me out there? Please, don’t act like you didn’t dry hump any and every inanimate object in your room. Or take 30-minute showers and tell your parents you just wanted to make sure you were “really clean”. We all did it. A lot. It’s an awkward time for everyone, knowing what sex is and being equal parts terrified and excited by it. Which is probably part of why tearing your V-card up has always been so hyped up.

Anyone who tells you they weren’t nervous when they lost their virginity is either lying through their teeth or had gotten themselves way drunk specifically so they wouldn’t be nervous. I fall into the first category but it was nothing remarkable. After hooking up with this guy pretty heavily the summer before senior year of high school, we eventually reached that point where I was just like “So are we doing this or what?” It sounds like I was cool, calm, and collected, but I was shaking more than a hairless Chihuahua in a bucket of ice. I know, cool, right? Anyway, turns out the answer was yes, but I was wholly unprepared, in fact, I believe flavored condoms were used as well as some hand lotion I had kicking around my room. To this day, the smell of eucalyptus and melon always brings me back to that afternoon. Ah, memories.

But, unlike Pringles, once you pop sexually, sometimes the fun does stop. For a really long time. Or maybe it just feels like a really long time. Either way, you’re not getting any and suddenly you revert to your adolescent self. Re-virginization, if you will, which might sound a little crazy, but hear me out. Obviously, I’m not talking physically (for you ladies), because that hymen is not coming back without expensive plastic surgery. But after not having sex for…I’d put it at about six months…you start regressing to your previous virgin mindset.

Remember back in the day, when all your friends started to lose their virginity and you were there wondering “When is this going to happen to me? Am I that much of a loser? Am I going to be a virgin forever?” (Unless you were the first of your friends to do it, in which case, you’re a filthy slut.) Well, as your drought wears on, the same familiar thoughts start crossing through you mind. Maybe just a bit more bitterness, as now you have pubic hair. But you laugh along when friends tell you stories of their sexual escapades, like you have a doozie to contribute, and when it’s your turn to share, you conveniently have to go to the bathroom. Word of advice: when you are in the middle of a drought period, never play “Never Have I Ever.”

Just like your adolescent self, who found anyone with a pulse and a full set of teeth attractive, re-virgins also start finding even the most repulsive people sexually attractive. Got a mullet? No big deal, just don’t hit it from the back. Wonky-eye? Only do it from the back. We have an uncanny ability to rationalize any person who walks past as attractive when we are hard up for some sexy fun times. You know you’ve got it REAL bad when gender stops being an issue and you’re thinking of playing for the other team just to get some. After years of being a virgin, how many of you have said, either to yourself or aloud, “I will sleep with the next person who looks at me. I just want to get this over with.” Likewise, the longer a drought wears on, the lower your standards get, until before you know it, you’ve popped your cherry with your friendly, local 7-11 clerk in the back room on his 15-minute break.

In a similar vein, flicking your own bean is only exciting for approximately 30 seconds, and that’s when you’re oh-facing. I think everyone can agree that it’s just so damned boring to get yourself off day in and day out. No, sitting on one hand until it goes numb or using your left hand doesn’t cut it, it’s still just a one-man show. But when you aren’t knee deep in sexual partners, you are kind of out of options. So you start doing things to make masturbating just a little more exciting. Maybe you keep one sock on (fact: I knew a guy who admitted to this in college. Beer + Truth or Dare = hilarity), or maybe you keep all your clothes on. You could jerk it in different locations: your bed, the shower, in the kitchen, the bathroom at work, at your desk at work, the grocery store, waiting for the subway, in jail because you probably got arrested jerking off in so many public places. Or you could introduce new sex toys into your repertoire. Deep thought: why, when people are too cheap/embarrassed to go out and purchase a sex toy, do they always turn to fruits and vegetables? I’ve never once looked at a watermelon and though “Damn, I cannot wait to take that home and bang it.” Either way, you start trying to jazz up the act of self-love, but it will still always be like tofu when you really want a filet mignon.

But the worst part about becoming a re-virgin is all of the anxiety you have when your hypothetical cherry is popped again. If anyone tell you “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just like riding a bike,” a) what weird ass bike did they ride as a child? and b) there is pretty much one way to ride a bike, but there are eleventy-billion ways to be good and/or bad in bed. So the first thing you’re probably thinking when the clothes come off is “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING!!! HOORAY!!” but also “Damn, I hope I remember how to do everything.” And then you get down to it and you’re thinking “This is a pretty big moment for me. Can we put on some soft music? Maybe light some candles? Melon and eucalyptus if you have them.” And while you’re definitely enjoying things, a little piece of you is thinking “God, I hope I’m not horrible at this. I hope they don’t go back to their friends and tell them what a horrible lay I am. Am I doing that right? Does that feel good for them? This is too much pressure!” And then you realize what you realized the first time you lost your virginity: sex really isn’t that terrifying. In fact, it’s kind of awesome. And you want to do this as much as possible for the rest of your life. But like all good things, your new sex life is probably going to come to an end a lot sooner than you would hope. Thus, you’re well on your way to re-re-virginization. (For further discussion of that topic, please reread this blog post.)

It was a dark and stormy Drinking Game Friday...

Oh god. It's another Roller Coaster of Emotions kind of morning. Because I'm That Guy who everything is a Simpsons quote to, this is what I feel like:


It turns out Vern the Installer Crush is MARRIED.
That's bad.

But they got done with the install early so he, along with the rest of the construction crew and obnoxious executives, left early!
That's good!

But I still had to work late last night.
That's bad.

But afterward, Alex and I went to the W for trendy and delicious drinks!
That's good!

...Where I inappropriately shouted "cock-block" really loudly.
That's bad.

But I had so many homemade ginger Dark and Stormy's, it didn't matter.
That's good!

Which is why I'm completely hungover this morning.
That's bad.

At least I got a delicious turkey sub from Subway on my way home last night!
That's good!

Which I dropped literally the second I sat down to eat it, causing the contents to spill out and all over my rug.
That's bad.

But there was still time to catch the last 15 minutes of Project Runway!
That's good!

Except I turned on the TV to discover my cable had been turned off due to lack of payment.
That's bad.

Which should be remedied soon, as today is payday.
That's good!

But my boss didn't deposit my paycheck.
That's bad.

At least it's Drinking Game Friday!
That's good!

But I'm far way hungover and to think of a drinking game.
That's bad.

Good thing Jason sent me this awesome Boy Meets World Drinking Game last night!
That's good! Really, really, really good.


Because, "Life's tough. Get a Helmet." - Eric Matthews

Rules:
Drink when:
- Eric yells "FEENY"
- Shaun does something extremely dramatic
- BMW breaks down social barriers or addresses cultural concerns (i.e., interracial couples, teen drinking, and pre-marital sex)
- They eat at Chubby's
- Cory acts obscenely Jewish
- They're in the backyard with Feeny
- Shaun becomes an orphan
- Eric adopts the kid through the Big Brother program
- Shaun and Angela break up
- Cory and Topanga sing “WAR!” at karaoke
- Every time they switch the actress who plays Morgan.

Thank you Jason and friends! And thank you reader! Thanks for preaching the good 2b1b word, shootin' us emails, following us on Twitter, joining the Facebook page, voting for us here, here AND here and just for generally being you. Now I'm going to go try not to vomit Dark and Stormy everywhere, but I'll see you right back here Monday morning. Byeeee!

Let's give 'em something to talk about...

This has quite possibly been the most god-awful week I've had, both at work and in my personal life, in quite some time. I'm not really going to go into it because I'm not at the point where I can laugh about it yet. Usually when the shit hits the fan and my bosses treat me like crap, I can lolz it off pretty quickly and chalk it up to OH life!, but at the moment I'm still having oddly specific fantasies about going into a room full of expensive glass vases with a baseball bat and unleashing The Fury.

Things aren't all doom and gloom, however, and I will share with you that I, Meghan C. McBlogger, am in love. Yep, in mother-effing LOVE. What's his name? As per usual, I have no idea. Well, to be fair, he told me Tuesday morning (I know! I actually talked to this one!!!!) but I have the memory of a fruit fly so of course I've already forgotten it. Our studio is being remodeled this week (which isn't exactly helping The Fury) and he's one of the installers. I don't really know what's come over me. I mean, I fall in love pretty much every day, five times a day with baristas, FedEx delivery dudes, waiters, bartenders, bank tellers and guys who look like this:

but I've never been this much of a...well...fuckin' spazz about it before. And I don't get it! Installer Crush is a construction worker, probably in his late 40's, maybe going through a divorce, most definitely in camo pants and doesn't have a sleeve to his name! And yet—I can barely contain myself. I'm like a giggly tongue-tied teenager every time he talks to me.

If flirting were a sport, I'd like to think I could win Olympic gold. I'm pretty quick to come up with a cheeky little zinger or provocative come back. And that's not me being cocky, as I will be the first to tell you that's where my expertise with the opposite sex ends. (Unfortunately.) And the thing is, Installer Crush totally flirts with me hardcore! And in my head I'm like, "Meggles, what's wrong with you? He's totally flirting with you. Flirt back! THIS IS WHERE YOU SHINE!" So I try to say something cheeky but instead I just gurgle, turn red and run away like I just peed myself.

One of the rooms Installer Crush is working on has a wall made entirely of sliding wooden panels. To get into the storage closet at the end of the wall, you have to slide all of the doors shut. Yesterday, while Installer Crush was working in this room alone, I had to get something from the storage closet. I came in, managed to get a "h...h...hey" out and slid the door shut with just the two of us inside. As I was getting what I needed out of the closet, Boss #1 stood outside and knocked on the door. "Hang on one sec!" I shouted.

"You know," said Installer Crush, "from all the flirtin' we've been doing, your boss is gonna think we're in here doing something."

Gauging from the extreme shock that went through my body from that statement, he might has well have said, "You know, I want to cum on your tits, you dirty little whore." I turned bright red, literally stammered and giggled (or stimmled, if you will,) stared at him with wide eyes and said, "Wh-wha-what?"

"I said, from us being so flirty and that door shut, I bet your boss thinks we're in here doing something."

Now, what I wanted to say in response to this was, "BAHAHAH HEHEHE Ooo0o0o HAHAHHAA AHHHH!!!!" But I could do better than that. I had to think of something witty and provocative to say back. And normally, I'd totally be able to! Because that's my shtick! That's what I do! But no. I was drawing a complete blank.

At this point a solid five awkward seconds had gone by and I had to say something. Anything. I couldn't just stare at him like a deer in headlights indefinitely. But what to say, what to say, what to say...say...um...

"Well I'll make sure to wipe my mouth as I walk out."

That was my response. And WHAT. THE. FUCK?!

Why!?!?! Of all the things I could have said, WHY did I have to go with that?! I turned our innocent little game of office flirting into a hardcore pornographic awkward-fest. The second the words flew out of my mouth, I looked horrified. Disgusted and horrified. With my own actions. I couldn't believe I had just said that. I still can't believe I said that. I wonder if that's grounds for a sexual harassment suit. I'm going to be the first woman in history to have a construction worker sue her for sexual harassment.

After I said..."it"...Installer Crush sort of shifted his eyes around the room awkwardly and I made a facial expression pretty much on par with this:

Then I promptly ran out of the room as fast as I could and have been avoiding him ever since. He will be here until next Monday.

I know it's a completely overused phrase at this point, but honestly—fuck my life.

PS: I just found out his name is Vern. Well. Good to know.

Recrap Wednesday: Dawn Schweitzer is a fat virgin. Still half-true.

(It's really vital to me that you play the provided musical accompaniment while reading this recap. I promise it'll enrich the experience exponentially. Kthnx.)

Last night's episode of More to Love wasn't just any old waffle-lovin' episode of More to Love. Nope. It was...

OHHHHHH YEEEEAHHHH!!!!11

Actually, the location change didn't really affect the episode that much. It was still your standard munchie-filled, PolyBlend, bottle-groin-popping, yacht-cruising, cry-fest. Everyone was just slightly more sweaty than usual.

Our ladies arrive on the Big Island (BHAHAHA, GET IT?! BIG ISLAND?) and meet Luke at a luau where they each get leid. For what I can only assume is the first time. Luke informs the girls that this will be their last group date and each girl will then get to go on a nice, long juicy date with him. It's at this point that that I have an epiphany. This entire season, I've been trying to put my finger on who Mandy looks like. Originally I thought I'd nailed it down with Huckleberry Hound, but I was wrong. Well, no, I was right, she does have the same sad, down-turned eyes and ric-rac skimmer, but more specifically, she also looks like a poor man's Maggie Gyllenhaall:

And thus, I shall call her Mandy Gyllenhog.

Luke goes on his first one-on-one date with with ex-skinny-girl Malissa. Their date was what I call a "boomerang date." Every time it got boring and I started to zone out, Malissa would say something ridiculous and my attention would boomerang right back to the show. Luke takes Malissa to a Sea Life Park where they hold hands and coo at penguins and blah blah blah my interest starts to dwindle until Malissa says, "You trying to make out or what?" Upon hearing this, my head (which had begun to doze off) snapped right back up just in time to see them kiss. Huh? Did she really say you trying to make out or what? If so, that's fucking ballsy of her and frankly, I respect the hell out of her. Romance is all good and fun, but sometimes a bro can take a little too long to bust a move and you have to expedite the process a bit. I didn't come over at 11 o'clock at night to watch an entire disc of Entourage with you for the pithy dialogue, a-thank-you-very-much.

Anyho, Luke and Malissa make out a little, get in the water and ride some dolphins around. Again, I zoned out a bit until I heard Malissa tell Luke, "I'm surprised the dolphins can support us!" Aaaaaaand I zoned right back in. Excuse me, what was that? I guess this isn't a completely ridiculous statement considering this is the couple who's weight broke a tandem bicycle. God, what I wouldn't have given to see their fat asses break a dolphin into two equal pieces...

After their jaunty little day at the Sea Life Park, Luke and Malissa have themselves a picnic lunch and discuss the issue of marriage. Because as we've established, Luke needs two things in life—a sportive, yet masculine, sports bra and a wife. Malissa, however, is "still trying to figure it all out" which makes Luke scared that she's going to "mislead his intent," whatever the shit that means.

Now, I'm not going to lie to you. At this point in the show I got really antsy and bored, so I went into my closet to pick out an outfit to wear to work today. When I came back, More to Love was no longer on TV. Instead, Representative Steny Hoyer was on talking about God knows what. Because I'm not the crispiest fritter in the fryer, I thought More to Love had been interrupted by a national address or something and was totally bummed out. About a minute later, I realized I must have been sitting on the remote earlier and when I got up my ass accidentally changed the channel to C-SPAN. Sooooo...there's that.

Although I missed a chunk of this scene due to the unruliness of my own ass, here's what I caught: 1.) They go to a sushi restaurant and holy god do I want to go-Saki bombing. 2.) Luke tells Malissa that he feels like he could propose to her and Malissa says they're "on the same page." 3.) They go back to Luke's room and totally DO IT, prompting me to amend my earlier statement: holy god do I want to go Saki-bombing holy god do I want to go Saki-bombing and have sex and go Saki-bombing again.

The next day, Luke goes on a one-on-one date with The Tranny. The producers Luke plans an aquatic dream-date on an outrigger complete with snorkeling! And that's when the Tranny loses it. Why? Because water is her biggest fear. "I haven't been in the ocean since I was 12," she cries to Luke, "I just don't put myself in that kind of situation." And I call SHENANIGANS! SHENANIGANS A-PLENTY! Because The Tranny used to be in the god damn Navy. How can you say you don't put yourself in aquatic situations when you joined and served in the Navy?! That's like me saying I don't put myself in athletic situations and then I join a soccer team. (I can't decide which is more unlikely: me joining the Navy, or me joining a soccer team.)

But if there's anything Sarah Jessica Parker taught me in Failure to Launch, it's that the key to getting a guy to bond with you is to have him teach you something. And apparently The Tranny wasted an hour and a half of her life on this movie too. As Luke holds Tranny's hand and coaches her through the trauma of snorkeling, it's clear the two have bonded like Na to Cl. (...Did I just make a science joke? Who am I, Co-Blogger Chris?) Our gentleman head back to the outrigger for lunch and Luke tells The Tranny that he thinks this date was "life changing" and he can tell Tranny must really trust him to conquer her fears like that. And then they make out. Point to Sarah Jessica Parker.

AND THINGS WITH THE TRANNY ONLY GET BETTER! Later that night, Tranny shows up to dinner looking Dynasty-tastic! Everything about her look (from the ruffle-neck silk number to the gaudy crystal earrings to the dramatic makeup and high bun) screams Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan gone seducin' at the St. Dennis club. And Lord knows that's the quickest way to my heart!

Even the dialogue was pure Dynasty:
Tranny: "I'm falling for you...but you never said you were falling for me..." [Tranny looks down as her eyes well with tears]
Luke: [Dramatic pause] Look at me. [Tranny slowly looks back up and deep into Luke's eyes] I am falling for you. [Tranny gives a playful smile and the two lean in for a passionate kiss]

AND SCENE.

And like Malissa, The Tranny ends up getting the invitation to stay the night with Luke. Damn. You, madam, are good.

The next day, Luke goes on his last one-on-one date with Mandy Gyllenhog. Luke confesses he thinks Mandy is "still the most guarded," so it's important that she be herself and he figure out what's really going on in her head. Thus, they go ATV riding. Their entire date was like watching paint dry until they climb a case of wooden stairs and Luke says, "I hope we don't exceed the weight limit on these stairs." Um. Hi there. If my date ever verbally expresses concern that we, as a team, might exceed the weight limit of something, it better be a rickity-ass Indiana Jones style rope bridge that's one second away from snapping in half, not a solid set of wooden stairs. Don't make me bust out my salad fork again...

I'm not going to lie, the rest of the ATV date was pretty standard and boring, so I'll skip ahead to dinner. As per any other More to Love date, dinner took place on a twinkle-lit party boat called the Vida Mia. Luke and Mandy talked about their emotions (again) and it was terribly boring (again). Then, they move the party upstairs where there's basically a mattress thrown on the roof with a few candles lit around it. Apparently Vida Mia means Date Rape in Italian. Luke dusts off the used condoms and hypodermic needles and lays Mandy down on the mattress. "Do you see yourself getting married to me?" he asks Mandy. "Yes," she says confidentially. "Do you wanna stay out here with me tonight and enjoy the stars?" "Yes," she replies. Then Luke leans in, whispers "no regrets" and the camera fades out. Which is terribly confusing to me. Of all of the things to creepily whisper to the girl you got on the mattress atop your party boat, why "no regrets"? Not only are you implying this might not go so well, you're taking way the option of regretting it later. Next time I have sex with someone, I'm gonna climb on top and be like, "NO TAKE-BACKS!!!!!" and go to town.

But like all good things, our Hawaiian episode must come to an end. Luke has to eliminate one girl and MAN he's having a hard time deciding. This leads to lots of hilarious shots of Luke wistfully staring into the ocean, skipping stones and just generally doing a lot of soul searching. The Soul Searching Montage might be my second favorite montage behind the Dress Montage.

Given that the eliminations on this show never make any fuckin' sense, I predicted Luke would give Mandy the heave-ho, seeing how Mandy seems to be the most psyched about marriage. AND GOD DAMN I'M GOOD! Tali gets picked first, Malissa second and Mandy is outta there. Which, of course, is sad. The camera also spends way too much time in the limo with her afterwards filming her ramble and cry. I felt horribly uncomfortable and my ass starting to wonder what's on C-SPAN...

Cry Count: 4

Next Week: THE GRAND FINALE! Tranny and Malissa meet Luke's parents and Luke pops the question—BUT TO WHO?!

A very zen approach to having a panic attack.

I'm Fucked: A Series of Haiku Poems
by Meghan McBlogger

Labor Day was brief,
Conference calls and dog-walking;
Can't turn off my phone.

Early to rise and
Scramble to put out big fires
Not of my making.

Mr. Foxx once said,
Blame it on the alcohol!
My boss prefers me.

Communication
Is the key to good business;
Got no Blackberry.

I emailed you twice!
Saturday nights reserved for
Red Stripe, not email.

I shoulder the blame
So my boss looks less inept,
Hark! It's Saint Meggles!

Scene from Rock of Love:
Don't throw me under the bus!
My boss is Lacey.

An office full of
Executives not so pleased,
Thank God for Xanax.

Feeling depressed I
Struggle to courtesy laugh;
You aint no Saget.

Oh, VP of Sales!
I've met you one-thousand times,
You should know my name.

I anxiously wait
For Boss number two to come.
Enter, Diablo!

What would Diane say
If I get fired today?
Goodbye apartment.

Twirling and whirling
Sliding down the pole with ease,
A limber new job.

A silver lining!
No dress code and finally
Some health insurance.