To My Loving Husband

I know we haven't actually met yet, but if we do, and you want to marry me, please keep in mind that these are the things that make me break up with you.

• We watch a Memorial Day concert, and you don't get weepy when they show the old men in the audience singing along with the Marine Corps theme song.
• You have an issue with the fact that I can eat as much pasta as is put in front of me.
• You're a racist.
• You're a Yankees fan.
• You make fun of my family...any of them, even the swinger. I'll cut you.
• You don't read.
• You wear denim shorts.
• You have a cat. Girls can have them, you can't. Not sure why, but that's the way it is.
• You're mean to the waitress/bartender and/or are a bad tipper.
• You're not funny.
• You're jokey.
• You drive a bright yellow or an obnoxious blue car.
• You're addicted to porn...or anything really. Moderation, honey, it's your friend most days.
• You drink mixed drinks other than margaritas and things involving bourbon or Jack Daniels...Bacardi drinkers, I think you know what I'm saying.
• You're not handy around the house.
• You're a picky eater. You can be choosy, but don't be picky. And, you don't have to eat mushrooms or onions.
• You're shorter than me. Sorry, but I'm short so this shouldn't be difficult.
• You're dumb.
• You make regular use of a picture phone.
• You say, "As you might guess of anyone who does conceptual art for video games, I'm all about the weed."
• And then you say, "I have a two-year-old half-Jamaican, half-Asian son."

One Quick Letter

Dear Jewel,

You're standing still.

Shut up,

e

Mean Boys

Can I ask you all a question?

Do you hate the men in your lives?

I mean the ones you make out with, not the ones you’re related to.

No?

Then why in the name of something people ask things in the name of, do you take them shopping with you? They don’t want to go. And if they do? Then that’s a problem.

Do not let boys pick out your clothes!!! Have you seen their clothes? They should not be in charge of your clothes. Unless they are gay. And if they are gay? Don’t date them. It’s a DISaster, and nobody likes those.

Also, the boy shopping with you thing? It’s a little controlling and controlling leads to emotional abuse and emotional abuse leads to the least informative Oprah Winfrey show ever:

Secret video: Dan is yelling yelling yelling and bringing the mean stuff all over his wife.

Oprah: Dan, why do you do this?

Dan: I don’t know.

Oprah: Dan’s wife, how do you feel about this?

Dan’s wife: I don’t like it.

Oprah: Dan, why do you do this?

Dan: I don’t know.

Dan’s wife: I don’t know either.

Therapist: I think Dan is angry.

Oprah: It’s cute that you think anyone’s listening to you, here’s what I think. I think Dan is angry.

Audience: Now that is some shocking motherfucking shit. Did you see that coming? Angry? I thought his heart was two sizes too small. Angry…huh. That Oprah. She is a fucking genius.

Oprah: Dan, why do you do this?

Dan: I don’t know.

Oprah: Thank you, Dan. Really, I thank you. I know this was difficult.

Dan’s wife: Ummmmmm…thanks?

Audience: Do you think that thing about wearing red getting you on camera is true? Angry…that fucking Oprah…genius.

Anyway, what brought this post on? I was in DSW today (where I spent $112, while saving $113. This is how you beat The Man) where I saw this woman totally get dumped right in the middle of the store. Unfortunate…yet entertaining.

It wasn’t as entertaining as it could have been though, seeing as how the man doing the big dump (ew!...not like that…you’re gross) was doing so over the phone not live on pay-per-view. But still, it was fun for me, until I remembered that I fully and completely object to any relationship-severing type conversations that do not take place in a face to face encounter. So, no matter how annoying this chick comes across in the proceeding transcript, please remember that this dude is a total dick.

Crying lady in DSW: But what am I supposed to do? I do not even have a tissue!

Me: Dude, (Dude in this case being me as I was talking to myself because I was, as always, alone) is she crying?

CLIDSW: But why?

Me: Yup, she’s crying. AWWWKward. How can I get around her to those shoes that she is directly in front of.

CLIDSW: But why now? But why when I am here where I am?

Me: Awwww. She’s dumb. Poor little lamb. Dumb and crying in the middle of a shoe store. So sad.

CLIDSW: I do not even know what that means.

Me: That’s because you are super dumb. And also? You are not smart. And me? I am totally going to get struck down by all kinds of bolts for talking shit like this in my head.

CLIDSW: Can’t I just come over?

Me: NOOOO. Don’t go over. God, do not let her go over. I know this guy is a dick what with the whole phone break up but PLEASE, give him sense enough to talk her out of coming over. Nobody should ever go over…EVER. Now, also, could you drop the price of shoes sometime? That would be super helpful. That’s it for now, so sorry to interrupt you, feel free to return to miracle-making any time now.

CLIDSW: But I just found shoes for you. I just found the ones we saw last time but now they’re on sale I could just bring them and then…

Me: Don’t make eye contact, let’s just get us out of this aisle before we throw up on her.

CLIDSW: (mumble mumble sniffle sigh sigh)

Me: Yes, this aisle? Much better. Still have view of drama, but out of earshot so as to avoid accusations of not minding my own beeswax. Also, “minding my own beeswax?”…worst expression ever, let’s stop using it post haste, ‘kay?

CLIDSW: Fine. Fine. OK. Fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. OK. I guess. Fine. Fine. Fine.

Phone: Click

CLIDSW: (to DSW worker man) Can you put these back?

Me: Is this seriously happening? That dude is a fucking dick. If I did not hate the talking to of the people I would totally go say something to her but we all know how I feel about the people.

And that, my friends, is how we got to today’s lesson: Boys? No shopping with them, ok? They will dump you on the phone. Can we automatically assume that the two things are related? No. Do I care and do I love the random-ass assumption? No...and then yes.

Stuff About Stuff

Oh, kids. Where to begin? Much has happened, but first, how are you? How did that thing go with the thing and the other thing and the stuff? Really? Cute.

In the past few weeks I have done much and much and then some more. I have flown to Kentucky, where I drank and ate way past too much, won $400, and made out with a cute boy from Chicago. Not the worst way to spend a weekend, no?

Then I worked worked worked, and then I went to the beach last night where I drank and ate right about too much. I definitely drank past too much, but I think I ate right around much. Does that make any sense? No? Well, sorry, write it yourself next time. Anyway, it was super fun even though I had to drive through a fucking hurricane two times to get there. Don’t do that, by the way, if you have the option. It’s no good.

But between the working and the hurricane? I got my car back. You know what was wrong with it? NOTHING.

The fool boys who fixed the dents from the EEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeevil boy who jumped on my car put the hood on wrong so the shaky shaky has been coming from a loose hood, not, as suspected, from an unfixable break in the most expensive part of my car. OY.

We have been having a great time together now that we’re reunited, though. She needs a bath. That’s some boring shit though, so I’m not writing about that any more.

So that’s my news. And you? Really? Huh. Have you seen that show Intervention? It’s on now. This gay guy uses meth to fuel his sex addiction….If you need to fuel your addiction, are you really addicted? I mean, I think you’re really a meth addict who has sex a lot. It just started though so who am I to judge? I’m addicted to nothing so I have no cred here.

I have no real narrative here so I’m just going to spill out some nonsense I’ve been thinking about.

First up, Chiclets.

Stay away from them. Especially the blue ones. And if you absolutely cannot help yourself from burning your last quarter I suggest that you chew, chew, then spit. Chiclets turn into pickle juice in your mouth and that is gross and gross with a sprinkle of ick.

Next up, Elvis.

What is all this interest about? I could not give less of a…I don’t even know what. He is dead and they already made this movie at least once so let’s just stop it. Right NOW!

The girl on Intervention is addicted to gambling. This may be inappropriate but her boyfriend is super-cute.

Alright, I’m officially blathering, I’ll try and give this another shot later.

The Contents of My New Apartment

Overpriced throw pillows: 2
Reasonably priced throw pillows settled upon out of guilt over spending too much on other throw pillows: 4
Reasonably priced throw pillows that I actually enjoy very much because they are super soft and pretty: 2
$0.74 dish towels: 2
Rugs that are too small but I love: 1
Rugs that are too small that I am reconsidering altogether: 2
Ridiculously green green towels: 8
Pieces of blue furniture: 2
Pieces of furniture made by relatives I never met: 1
Slow slow Internet connections: 1
Kick ass rocking chairs assembled completely by me: 1
Cable-less tvs whose remotes I have no idea how to locate: 1
Stereos with absolutely zero pieces of furniture capable of holding them: 1
Unassembled bookshelves: 2
Boxes of books: 437
Sleepy librarians: 1