Things

• I hate cats, but for some reason I fell in love with Bagheera's doppelganger and I now have a bed covered in cat urine. And I still have yet to kill him. 

• I was voted Best Sense of Humor in high school. I secretly hated being the funny girl because I didn't think anyone found me attractive. I used to wish that people would see me as a nymphet. Now, I hate that people view me as something sexual and wish they'd view me as the hilarious motherfucker that I am. Isn't life a bitch?

• Before I send a text, I'll reread it about 4 times to make sure it's worded to my exact liking. 

• I don't think anyone knows my true self. I don't think I know how to even express who I am or what I want to be. 

• If you crack an inappropriate joke that silences the room and makes everyone uncomfortable, I'll want to be your friend.

• If you've seen every episode of Jake and Amir, I'll want to be your friend.

• If you feel like very few people really get (and appreciate) your sense of humor, that very few individuals are genuine, and that it's damn near impossible to find people that can live in the moment and enjoy one another's company without looking for something mundane to distract them, then we are soulmates. 

• I cried when I watched Pride & Prejudice. I also cried and couldn't finish Heidi when I was 8. 

• I hate my birthday because of the stigma tied to it. You have to have a bloody spectacular day, damnit.  

• I am happiest when I'm in the car, driving somewhere long distance. 

• I'm constantly testing people to see if they're passionate enough to continue. 

• I don't know how to NOT be guarded when I interact with people. 

• I've never been romantically in love with a man. 

Four Loko (Makes My Butthole Bleed)

This concoction of Satan's tears gets me in trouble every time I consume it. I generally act normal when I'm three sheets to the wind. I'm the type of drunk that likes to whisper sweet nothings in your ear. "Hey, you know what would be totally kickass? If you slam this beer can on your forehead." I then present them with a full can of beer to knock themselves unconscious with... I make a lot of friends this way. Last night I was really thirsty. I was also jonesing for a heart attack because I drank 2 vodka soaked sugar free Red Bulls and then proceeded to chug a Four Loko. I was guadafuckinglupe within an hour. I don't remember much, but the roommate was kind enough to refresh my memory.

-You were speaking gibberish
-You fondled A-hole's massive tits and then bitch slapped them.
-You smoked the pack of cigarettes you forced me to get for you then proceeded to steal other people's... in front of them.
-You bit me
-You were moody as fuck
-You ripped the door off of the ferret cage, sat indian style on the floor, and then proceeded to have a stare off with the poor animal.
-You climbed into my bed and when I told you to go to your own bed, you slammed my door and told me to fuck off and never talk to you again. Technically, I shouldn't be talking to your right now.

I woke up this morning and felt my insides burning with shame and resentment... and then it hit me, dear God did the smell hit me. I roll over and off the bed and see the spot. I slept in cat piss.

I just recently purchased a little bundle of joy from Petco a week ago and we've been inseparable ever since. I love this giant panther that I purchased. Apparently he loves me as well and hates it when I leave because in retaliation he decided to urinate all over the thing I love the most... my awesome fucking bed. So, between vomiting up my dignity and washing my sheets I've been scrubbing the hell out of my mattress. Happy fucking friday everyone!

50 McNugget Challenge

I'm leaning forward, clutching my stomach. “Why the fuck did we do that?” The room is spinning and the vision in my left eye is getting blurry. “I'm going to be sweating grease for a week.” My roommate/best friend challenged me to a 50 McNugget challenge and I don't back down from shit. 

It all started one fateful Sunday when the two of us had absolutely nothing to do. 

Roomie: "So, what do you want to do?"

Me: "I haven't really thought past sitting on my ass. What would you like to do?"

Roomie: "Want to try to eat 25 nuggets a piece?"

Me: "Why the fuck not?"

Our local McDonald's has this super sweet deal where you can purchase 50 McNuggets, 2 drinks, and 2 fries for $15. Yay for coronary bypass surgery! We paid* and giggled like 12 year old boys that just found their dad's porn stash. 

We started out innocently enough. Each of us getting through a 10-pack with no problems. I noticed that she was a little bit ahead of me. She noticed that I was downing some fries like Kristie Alley at a free taste testing at Krispy Kreme. We started to race. 

Me: "I'm going to fucking merk your ass."

Roomie: "Look at me, I can clearly eat more than you. I'm built like an ox."

Me: "I have the stamina, and enough bad judgement, to push past you, bitch."

We're neck and neck. I finished my fries before her, but she had a few nuggets on me. That's when we both hit the wall. We're sitting there, she's gagging, I'm sweating, and we both look at one another with pleading eyes. Please, dear God, one of us agree to back down. NEVER! I push past the pain and start stacking nuggets on top of one another and swallowing like a boa constrictor. When the last whole nugget slides down my throat and burns it's way into my stomach, I stand up and say, 

"YOU GOT PWND BITCH!!"

Then immediately laid on the cool, hardwood floor of our apartment to ease the hot flashes. 

I know it was absolutely ridiculous, but you know what… I FUCKING WON!

*I ended up having to charge our McDonald's adventure on my card because we couldn't break it up at the window. So, I now have a $15 + tax charge on my bank statement from McDonald's; which is some humiliating shit. 

Willow

"I had about an hour where I had to fight myself from swallowing all 57 salmon colored pills. I wanted so badly to just take them with a bottle of cheap vodka and slip into a blissful slumber, but you keep holding me back from that."

"You know that's not normal…"

She snorted. "What the fuck is normal in the first place. Normalcy…" she looked up through wispy braches at the gray blue sky and closed her eyes. "I would be in a far worse state if I was normal."

He turned his head so he was staring at her profile as they lay on the dingy plaid blanket that wreaked of dog. She was beautiful, and unbelievably wounded. He inched his hand so it was lying next to hers and extended his pinky so that it gently rubbed the top of her wrist. He exhaled slowly when she didn't stop his actions. She was so skittish he feared that just that amount of contact would cause her to bolt from their shelter under the willow tree and run savagely through the park. 

Her head turned and she gazed at him for a few seconds before looking back up towards the sky. 

"Jake, you know you can't save me."

"I know."

"We should go." But she made no initiative to get up and leave. Instead she placed her hand inside of his and smiled. 

Back to normal sarcasm in the next post. 

I Hit On A Gay Man

I have two friends that are playing this really weird game with one another. They act like a couple, hang out like a couple, but don't fuck like a couple. I don't get it. They get super fucking crazy about doing one another's friends. So, when A-hole told me that her boy Future Serial Killer (FSK) wanted to stab me with his meat stick, I a) felt super uncomfortable and 2) wondered if he knew that even though I act like a man, I'm not equipped like one (bummer).

(FSK has a feminine voice and mannerisms much like a girl. He also got drunk and made out with a dude once. He totally likes the peen; he's just fighting these urges and I don't know why.)

Against my better judgment I've been hanging out with these two loons. FSK has started hitting on me. I've been counteracting this unusual behavior by reciprocating his actions, because what's nastier than a vagina trying to rub on you (icky!).

Last night I got a little inebriated (drunk as shit) and decided I was going to mess with FSK. He's hitting on me (telling me he's going to rape me) and I turn to him and say, "Let's go up to your room." So we go upstairs, I sit on his bed, he sits next to me. Stupid shit is spewing from his mouth. I sit there silently, looking at my feet. He's smirking at this point thinking that he one upped me on this game of chicken we're stupidly playing. I tell him "Alright, let's do this" and start to take off my shirt. He hops up from the bed and books it the fuck out of the room. I can honestly say I've never got that reaction before.

I decided to sexy up the ole resume and give potential grad schools a woody by volunteering for an affiliation on campus. I had to do training today. I wanted to gut fuck myself by the end of it.

First, we did the oh so fun introductions.

"Hi, my name's Batman. I'm a senior. I'll probably be in this bitch a bit longer because I have attachment issues I can't get over. I'm only here because my resume is pathetic; I'm usually very selfish."

*Silence*

My intro was like a drunken "Oh, by the way, I fucked the groom too! Cheers to y'alls happiness!" maid of honor toast. I looked like an ass. Sheesh, lighten up, bitches. For people that "love to help others" you sure are making a girl want to slit her wrist all vertical-like.

That's not the worst of it. We had to role play. I get my card and roll my eyes. I'm the drunk, black out, pill popping college chick, and my partner has to discuss with me her concerns on my kick ass behavior. We give the audience a brief little description of what character we are about to portray. This is what I said...

"I'm a slutty ass, drunk college girl, probably of the sorority nature."

*Silence*

Tough crowd.

I'm super pumped about volunteering my precious masturbation time with these Debs.

Let's Address the Hymen in the Room

Well, I'm glad I fucked up so quickly on this blog because now we get to have a bonding experience. I'm going to disclose information that hints to serious daddy issues, I'll cry, you'll read awkwardly with this face…

"What the fuck do I do?"

imagive via

In all seriousness, let's talk about the presence of my hymen. That's probably a lie, that bad boy had to have been busted, naturally, by now. But figuratively, it's still intact. 

I don't bring up my virginity because I don't really think it's that important. I'm not holding onto it because I'm going to marry Jesus or anything; I'm still untainted because I believe in this fictional thing called love. I really want to lose it, and regret it a year later, because I thought I loved a retarded boy. I just have yet to meet someone that can rival the love I already have for myself. 

The funny thing that I've noticed about people when they figure out I'm hymenally-challenged is they 

1) Think I'm a unicorn

and 

B) Think I've never seen peen before.

Come on now, peeps. Granted, I do have the mental capacity of a 12 year old, but I have a bit more experience than one. It's called alcoholic mistakes. 

I think the reason I'm addressing this in a blog post is because in our drunken text convo, second guy said to me "You don't have to let your virginity define you…" I know that what that really meant was "You can come over here and let me tickle your belly button from the inside" but I couldn't help but wonder if everyone views virgins as these uptight, skittish mythical creatures? Unfortunately I'm a foul mouthed, perverted, skittish virgin. 

I messed up. I drunk texted second guy and asked him to come over. He said he would try to get a ride because he had been drinking with friends, and I told him that sex wasn't in the forecast. He said he would stay where he was then. I told him it was nice talking to him. He asked if I was being serious, because he why would he come over if it wasn't a guarantee. I, apprehensively, but drunkenly admitted that I am still a virgin. He asked if I was serious. I said that the hymen was indeed still intact. He said that I should have told him sooner and that it didn't change anything. I said so, friends? He asked if I no longer wanted to date. I said I didn't think he had the patience. He asked if I was trying to get rid of him. I said no. He said he'd set up a hot date for us when I was sober. I didn't respond. He sent another text later asking if I was awake. I responded with yes, what's up? He said I should come over. I said we clearly had different views on what we expected. He said I shouldn't allow my virginity to rule what I did. I said I didn't, that I was just saying... He asked what I was saying. I said I wanted something simple. He said I was making shit complicated. I said I wasn't trying to. He said we should talk when we weren't drunk. I said I was sobering up, but I agree.

18 Cats and Counting Cont.

Where we were we? Ah, yes, I was sweating like a whore in church, and just met up with the second guy.

As I was walking towards him I apologized for being a dumbass, which he laughed about and lead me towards the proper caffeine establishment. He scored a table by the window while I got something cold to choke down in hopes that it would help hinder my skin from crying. I'm all nerves at this point because I'm socially retarded. So, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and then freak out while I'm in there. Here's the commentary that was going through my head while in the restroom.

Pull it together, pussy. And for god's sake stop sweating all over the place. That's right, fix the hair. Ok, you don't look that bad. All we have to do is trick him into thinking you're normal for a little over an hour and then you can go back home and watch Shark Week. 

The guy was hilarious, and after a few awkward minutes I started to calm the 12-year-old girl down inside of me and could carry on a conversation. Our conversations ranged from "what do you do with your free time?" to discussions about pegging. Yeah, again, I'm a catch. 

At one point he looked over and noticed a brick laying on top of a stack of newspapers. He mentioned offhandedly that he wanted to take it home. I told him he should, and fucked with him a little by saying, "When little Lola, that's what I envisioned our first offspring's name to be, asks us how we met, you can bring the brick out as memorabilia of our first date." He quickly followed with, "Yeah, I'll show little Lola that this is the brick I hit your mother over the head with to knock her unconscious and rape her." I swooned. I know, I'm going to marry a serial killer. I quickly followed with remarks about how we were too poor to abort little Lola and how my friends did not possess a steady hand in regards to maneuvering a wire hanger. He laughed and said, "So, Lola, you're a miracle baby!" 

We joked like that for over an hour. At one point we were people watching from the window and I noticed a group of kids playing outside. All of a sudden I watched a little blonde headed boy twirl around, lose his balance, and then smack into the window right in front of us. I died. I couldn't stop laughing. In all seriousness, I hope that child is ok, because he hit the window at such an alarming speed and at such an intensity he's probably slightly brain damaged, or cockeyed. 

We wrapped things up at the coffee joint and he walked me to my car. At one point he said, "Let's prom date it" and extended his arm out for me to take. I did so and he smiled and said, "Now let's skip!" So we skipped to the end of the block. I started feeling like an ass so I pulled my arm out from his and he goes, "Oh, do you see someone you know? Oh shit" and then proceeds to run 20 to 30 feet away from me. I couldn't stop laughing. 

When we got to my car I hugged him goodbye and when we pulled apart he said, "Well that was an awkward first kiss." I laughed and joked by saying, "What kind of girl do you take me for? I don't kiss until the 7th date, gosh!" 

He's a funny guy. I'm not sure if I see anything besides friendship, but I'll keep an open mind about it. He contacted me about hanging out this past thursday, but I was busy looking at mack truck etched tombstones. I sent him a text yesterday letting him know I was back in town. The ball is in his court. 

Where the Hell Am I?

Remember how I mentioned I was going to my grandparents to clean my colon or some shit like that? Well, I'm still backed up, but let me tell you what I HAVE done…

I HAVE been roused from slumber every morning at 8 a.m. because my grandfather has to have breakfast as soon as his swollen feet hit the floor and are forced to carry his mr. potato head body. "I get headaches, Batman, if I don't eat early."

I HAVE been forced to sit next to my grandmother, at her computer desk, and listen to the backstory of how she knows all 188  of her Facebook friends. "This is Billy. We went to high school together. He sat three rows behind me in math class. He has a crippled daughter."

I HAVE seeked revenge for the early bird specials by having my grandfather endure the infuriating task of teaching me how to drive stick shift. "What's that burnt celery smell?"

I HAVE traveled to look at a headstone with a mack truck etched into it. "This is what we do for fun around here, kid. Check out intricate headstones."

I HAVE napped in the middle of the afternoon. What? They keep waking me the hell up at 8 a.m. Stop judging me. 

18 Cats and Counting

I joined a dating site a few months ago because I'm desperate. Super fucking desperate. Like please-love-me, I-hate-cats-but-I'm thinking-about-purchasing-one,  my-wrist-hurts-so-bad desperate. On top of this blatant desperation: I'm awkward. I'm a catch. 

I've been on two meetings so far. I call them meetings because I've had to pay for my own coffee and I don't consider that a date by any means. And just a disclaimer, I really fucking hate coffee shops. Why in the hell do people pay $5 for a cup of coffee? Whoa, they add whipped cream and a random shot of expresso! I'll just throw coffee grounds in my homemade cup of joe and call it a day. Shit. Anyhow. Both meetings went well. 

The first guy it was a complete friend vibe for me. He was sweet and interested in the stupid shit spewing from my mouth, but I was unbelievably bored. He had a very dry personality. Where I have a very crude, laugh-at-me-because-I'm-fucking-funny-and-narcissistic personality. We talked about seeing Inception together, but I ended up getting this gnarly ass flu that left me feeling like a silverback gorilla clubbed me to an inch of my existence. So, I never got back to him about the movie.

The second guy I embarrassed myself rather splendidly in front of. First, I went to the wrong coffee joint because there's about 82 different coffee places downtown. This one in particular that I erroneously went to was closed. So, I immediately thought fucking great, an asshole that is teaching me lesson. I had blown this guy off not once, but twice. The first time was for the Jersey Shore premiere. I'm not messing around with that shit, a date can happen anytime, but the Jersey Shore Season 2 premiere is a once in a lifetime experience. The second time he invited me to a party that was happening at my apartment complex (he didn't know I lived there) and I just wasn't feeling it, so I said nay. Anyways, if this was a lesson, I sure as hell didn't want to let him know that I was being schooled, so I started to walk. Where exactly I was going, I had not a clue, but I did know that if he was anywhere around the coffee joint, and he saw me pulling on the doors like I was jonesing for a mocha frappuccino, I wanted to distance myself from there pronto. I walked a few blocks and ended up in front of a community college. I sat on a bench and wondered if this is what my life had come to, having lessons inflicted on me by strange internet folks. I decided to head back to my car because I felt like a total loser. Then he texted me.

"Are you on your way?"

Ah… I went to the wrong place. At this point I was thinking should I even bother meeting this guy? I was already sweaty because I was all nerves and it was hotter than Satan's vagina outside. But, I knew my roommates would give me straight shit if I skipped out on this dude so I sucked it up and texted him. I ended up walking 4 blocks to find him and when I saw him I thought not too shabby.

This is what I looked like when I met the second guy. Mallet and all. 

image via

to be continued...

I'm crazy. I'm okay with admitting this because it's a fact that is evident and something I can't hide; like the color of your hair or the cockeyedness of your eyes, you wear it visibly. However, it's not something I particularly like to talk about. I also don't like to blame my childhood rearing for making me such an emotionally fucked up individual. Nature AND nurture, motherfuckers. On that note, I do have the urge to go back in the memory archives and pull up August 1993. 

It was a humid, miserable night. My family and I had just come home from watching my dad cling desperately to his youth, and forcing his poor, broken down body into playing softball. My mother told me to get into the bath because I was probably covered in dirt, cigarette butts, and gum from rolling around in ditches and shit. I did as I was told, happy and oblivious, singing songs and playing with whatever the hell was in the bathtub with me... a vcr, a hairdryer? (That's not really pertinent to the story.) So, I was straight chilling like a gangster when my dad walked in. He had a shit eating grin on his face and his hands were behind his back, but at this point in my life I'm young and naive to the ways of the world so I thought nothing of it. "Hey Batman, you almost done?" Before I could utter a friggin word that bitch threw a frog into the bathtub with me. I looked down at the water and watched the frogs' legs stretch out and propel its' body towards me, as it began to swim around me in a circular motion. I FLIP MY SHIT. I jump out of the bathtub, butt naked, and run around the house for an extended period of time until my mom caught me. Calling my father an "asshole" over and over again as I drench the floor.

And that's one of the numerous stories that have shaped me into who I am today... a fucked up individual. 

I leave for Virginia today, to stay with my very conservative grandparents for a few days. About a month ago I woke up in an extremely elated mood (that, oddly enough, was not caused from elicit drug use) and called my grandmother. I think my reasoning behind this was if she says something retarded I would simply feel normal again, and not like I just stumbled out of a crack den. During the conversation I promised her I would come visit in a month, and that brings us to the present.


I'm actually a little excited about the trip because while I'm up there I have very little contact with the fucked up world I'm accustomed to. No cursing (shit). No alcohol (ah!). No dumbass friends telling me about their butthole licking experiences (oh). I, shockingly, need a break from these things. I need to feel... clean? When I go up there I feel as if I did a massive colon cleanse but for my moral conscience. I'm not distracted by shallowness and I feel so... normal. Granted it's not all sunshine and puppy kisses, but it is, thankfully, a random change of pace.