tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3583882544716639152012-01-22T17:59:20.803-08:00Friends Letting Friends Date DrunkCookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-83246332278885941782010-03-17T16:22:00.000-07:002010-03-17T16:36:15.247-07:00

Set to the tune of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance"Oh oh oh oh no no no no noGone in my underpants.Oh oh oh oh no no no no noGone in my underpantsAh Ah Oh my GodAh Ah Oh my GodAh Ah Oh my GodWent in my underpants(Repeat)It's really ugly, I have a diseaseI want more than anything to just hold my peeI want some Luvs.Luvs Luvs LuvsI need some Luvs(grunt)Unlike a Llama, who goes in the sand,I try to take a

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-29876180138464326602009-11-12T13:45:00.000-08:002009-11-12T13:58:44.643-08:00

No. Seriously. I couldn’t figure out whether it was him or me.For the last three weeks I’ve been in rapturous bliss. Not only because I’ve been living inside a bottle (or two) of Montepulciano, but also because I’ve been hanging out with a really dope guy. (I know, I’m gushing).Our interests include:a) Make people sick by the way that we look at each otherb) Drinkingc) Cooking

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-72133691991249914602009-11-04T09:05:00.000-08:002009-11-05T08:02:43.206-08:00

Dear Himbo:How are you?/I don't care. I'm well/Fucking a lot.So, it's no secret that you are the absolute last person on the planet that I would call if I needed something manly done, like mowing the lawn or shaving. However even i wasn't expecting such a shocking display of cowardice on your part.I forgave you when you told me (to your credit, a bit sheepishly) that you gave yourself mango

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-38719204758985571232009-11-04T08:16:00.000-08:002009-11-04T09:04:48.778-08:00

9) Four words: "I have a job." 8) Skull tattoos. (evidently)7) The phrase "The drinks are on me." (100% of the time, it works all the time)6) Roofies. (But honestly, no need. See #8)5) Joe Tex (look him up)4) The phrase "Do you want to hear my old band?" (Accidentally, this falls under both the "Drop my panties" list and the "Never drop my panties list," because last week after I had

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-78855851151138015102009-10-15T20:11:00.001-07:002009-10-15T20:34:24.900-07:00

10) "I'm an Actor."9) "You just caught me in the middle of a burp. I'm just pounding it out."8) "I've taken quite a few classes on women."7) "Do you want to come back to my place and play Guitar Hero?"6) "I hate condoms." (Yeah, Guy. We all hate them. But you sound like the Clap and you smell like Herpes). 5) "Do you want to listen to this song I just recorded with my band?" (God, no).4)

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-73339826110217777142009-10-09T13:25:00.000-07:002009-10-09T13:36:32.901-07:00

If there's not one already, there should be a card like the following that I can send to people who suck at life:On the front: A person of indeterminate sex (probably one of those black and white crude sketches) sitting on a toilet, clearly trying very hard to squeeze one out. Then you open the card, and inside it reads:"Have a Crappy Birthday."I'm here all week.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-80121182176363126372009-09-30T17:41:00.000-07:002009-10-01T11:20:53.479-07:00

Dear Himbo: I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for being such a douchestick in the last week of our relationship, forcing me to dump your ass over text message because it made it much easier than it would have been if you had actually been a legit citizen and ended it like a man.However, as grateful as I am to your ugly ass parents (and I do mean ugly...I've never seen a man with

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-78592911667021960672009-09-03T14:55:00.000-07:002009-09-28T08:05:13.833-07:00

My most recent ex stuck his finger down my pants, took a little survey, smelled his finger, and then presented me evidence that apparently I had been a tad hasty the last time I was decorating the toilet paper.My Uncle George has often decided to visit when I’m passed out in the beds of men I barely know. Unlike water, apparently your period does not stop in other people’s beds.I have snorted,

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-38100962401615163222008-09-28T05:58:00.000-07:002009-09-30T09:12:51.285-07:00

A lightbulb that I thought was burned out literally came on over my head this morning.I had no idea.But I thought it was funny.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-81629416434697580572008-09-18T17:52:00.000-07:002008-09-18T19:25:26.504-07:00

As the proprietor of the dirty "bodega," read: front for a crystal meth lab, hablad loudly into his phone, I slowly looked from my phone to the pint of ice-cream that was beginning to sweat in my hand, and then back to my phone once more.The ice-cream I was holding was not so close to Ben and Jerry's Peanut Butter Pretzel as it was to a slab of under-cooked fried chicken.What occurred in my (

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-62112599714280731112008-09-15T16:55:00.000-07:002008-09-16T17:35:44.545-07:00

Ever since I stopped feeling feelings and became totally dead inside thanks to my eager willingness in my early 20's to get worked like Jane Fonda's thighs by older, uglier, less intelligent men, I've viewed my dating "pool" (read: puddle), like a used car lot.I'm really not looking to buy…mainly because I can’t afford the insurance, but I'll test drive a few so I don’t forget how to drive

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-3306547759139706922008-09-14T17:38:00.000-07:002008-09-16T17:39:13.612-07:00

TOP TEN ways someone breaks up with you and the translation of what each phrase means. If you have any to add, please feel free...I'd love to get to 100...this is going to go in the Anthology I'm putting together called: "Piecing together the tattered remains of my pride and my unflagging pursuit of complete self-distruction" #10: "Lets take a break." Translation: "I've found someone else to do,

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-74287596511836780132008-09-11T18:25:00.000-07:002008-09-11T18:42:25.455-07:00

I recently went on a date with a guy who repeatedly referred to his ex-girlfriend as crazy.1) This guy was seriously cheap. For our second date he suggested, and I quote, "Why don't you come over and we'll drink PBRs in my back yard (on the upper east side) so we can save money." I laughed out loud.2) His nose was seriously pert.If I had a nickle for every time I heard "I don't know, she's

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-55184627765379332112008-08-11T18:20:00.000-07:002008-08-11T19:44:57.529-07:00

A few weeks ago, I went to a movie had dinner with my ex-boyfriend's mother. After M and I broke up, she and I remained close. Mrs. C is 100% Sicilian, born and raised in Brooklyn and the Lower East side. She got married very young, had 3 boys, got divorced, worked at a bank, and now lives with her ex-husband and her middle son in Brooklyn. I think she is one of the most interesting people I've

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-80714238975440324662008-08-04T21:30:00.000-07:002008-08-05T18:38:43.632-07:00

I lost my virginity when I was 21 to a 29-year old punk who at the time airbrushed T-shirts for a living. I liked him because he was hot in a dirty way. And he had tattoos. However, he was not very bright. He was so dumb in fact, I would drink a liter of wine before I hung out with him so that we could have conversations. And keep in mind that my IQ could quite possibly be in the single

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-47288295745668348792008-07-19T15:31:00.000-07:002008-07-19T15:33:29.439-07:00

I saw a really hot homeless man. Shyly, I glanced his way. He looked at me and gave me an impish grin. And then went back to rummaging through the trashcan.I walked on air for the rest of the day.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-41238308029919863922008-07-15T20:01:00.000-07:002008-07-20T19:38:41.243-07:00

He declared his love for me over and over again before, he called my (throat clear) "vagina" my (double throat clear) "Shame-Shame," during, and instantly rolled off of me, walked over to the couch, and settled in to read New York Post directly followed by The Daily News after.*This happened every. Single. Time. We. Did. It. The. Exact. Same. Way.Yes, i realize that some of you probably consider

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-12491090628442198622008-07-15T19:58:00.001-07:002008-07-15T20:01:06.613-07:00

He smokes a bong in front of you right before and doesn't offer you any.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-45206444562968234812008-07-15T19:13:00.000-07:002008-07-15T19:20:52.797-07:00

1) I burst into tears because the moon is so beautifully terrible2) I review my Netflix Queue. * To be clear, Shark Week is referring to the week when I experience womanly nature, not to the A&E special that airs once a year. Check your local listings.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-29125599646478956342008-07-15T19:08:00.001-07:002008-07-15T19:13:04.188-07:00

I get the hug with the back pat.

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-31030387200635233332008-07-08T17:30:00.000-07:002008-07-08T18:49:02.164-07:00

1) Drinking at breakfast is one of my favorite things to do. Second only to drinking all day.2) The Playboy Club is very different from The Playboy Mansion. Who was to know?3) People in Vegas take their pants off when you tell them to take their pants off. I know this because I told three people to take their pants off and all three of them took their pants off. This never happens in New

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-66519686691549701212008-06-11T17:32:00.000-07:002008-06-11T19:26:24.429-07:00

Things that Have Delighted Me this Week:1) The mildly racist Six Flags Commercial. (Or should I say "Six Frags?") Hehe.2) This:3) Well. I didn't want to brag, but my pee on Sunday was thick and milky, like Iced Tea.Things that have confused me this week:1) Paul Bunyan. Turns out he wasn't an actual historical figure, like Robin Hood, and his Band of Thieves. It turns out he was a myth, like Jesus

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-29521216863987263822008-06-06T14:09:00.000-07:002008-06-07T07:34:12.450-07:00

I’m not saying I’m a perfectly innocent player in this scene. I was clearly not at my most sensitive at that particular moment. Looking back, here is how I remember it:1) I bought a shot for my good friends in an attempt to have a bonding moment.2) I was momentarily distracted by a good-looking bartender.3) I was deeply hurt to discover that my bonding shot did not mean as much to Balloon as it

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-75662341189598632192008-06-03T16:28:00.000-07:002008-06-03T18:37:08.486-07:00

My sophomore year of high school, my English class was assigned one of those gay-ass group projects. I couldn't tell you what the project was for, but I am positive it was gay-ass. Kind of like Full House except even more gay-ass. Kind of like your cat, but even MORE gay-ass.My best friend AB and I usually worked on these gay-ass projects together. We were and still are very gay-ass for each

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-9217704025432966372008-05-27T16:40:00.000-07:002008-05-27T17:03:22.516-07:00

Number of Drinks Consumed: 12,048Number of calories I consumed: 500,000,000Number of cigarettes I smoked: 9,000Number of times my heart almost stopped: 3Number of boys I made out with: 2Number of boys I went home with: 2Number of boys I went home with over the age of twenty-three: 1Number of sailors I went home with: 0Number of bartenders I went home with: 1Number of tattoos he had:

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-41762629403309575772008-05-22T17:06:00.000-07:002008-05-23T13:36:33.133-07:00

Valentine's Day, 2000. New Orleans.It was my 3rd date with Keith, who would go on to be my boyfriend for 2 years. Keith had all the credentials I was looking for in a boy: 1) He had good looks 2) He had a car 3) He had multiple piercings 4) He had a record 5) The most serious of the charges, 4 counts of attempted rape, had been dropped.So obviously, I was in love.I've always really enjoyed

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-7870971366216917552008-05-21T19:05:00.000-07:002008-05-22T19:14:12.645-07:00

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-41566503712179270862008-05-18T20:25:00.000-07:002008-05-18T20:26:23.858-07:00

My very first "proper" date was with the boy I bought tampons from at my local CVS. I'll skip over date number 1 which involved pouring rain, my date jumping out of my car to move a live telephone wire in the middle of the road---with his bare hands, my car catching on fire (completely unrelated to the telephone wire), and my parents picking me and my Jerry's kid date up at the Silver Diner.I'll

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-31425212041257371402008-05-07T17:41:00.000-07:002008-05-07T20:18:55.613-07:00

I generally have no interest in famous people. Living in New York I imagine I pass by one every now and then, but I'm more likely to notice dogshit than Tom Cruise walking down the street in loafers with 5 inch heels and an attractive male accessory. (This actually happened--I thought I saw someone who looked like Tom Cruise coming toward me and was about to make mention of it to my boyfriend

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-82575684023095343742008-05-03T10:26:00.000-07:002008-05-03T10:37:53.163-07:00

Perhaps this will explain some things to youFirst Kiss:Was with a pony-tailed gentleman of Arab descent in a club called The Hippodrome in London. I was 16. Later on, back at the hotel, I guess I felt dirty so I washed my face using shampoo which resulted in an enormous cystic-like growth on the rim of my upper lip. I still have a scar from where I popped it--three times. It just kept coming

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-76516600378350804012008-04-26T21:31:00.000-07:002008-04-28T19:25:28.712-07:00

To be clear, MW is not dead.However, I am fairly certain I will never hear from him again. Let's go to the tape.*Flashback*MW grabbed me and pulled me into an ATM vestibule. He leaned in to kiss me. My whole body vomited. I bolted into traffic and dove into a cab through the window. cut to*April: A cool crisp day*I was enjoying a lovely day with my cousin. We had stopped off at a quaint

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-71560654315991283932008-04-15T17:46:00.000-07:002008-04-15T18:19:40.052-07:00

1) Must not wear hair in a ponytail. Particularly if he is bald on top.2) Must not drink so much that he blacks out, kills me, then wakes up, finds me dead beside him next to a bucket of half-eaten fried chicken, and wonders what happened.3) Must not own a gun.4) Must not own a chainsaw.5) Must not own black plastic trash bags.6) In the event that he does accidentally/purposefully kill me blacked

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-43896001752357434592008-04-12T07:43:00.000-07:002008-04-12T07:44:24.066-07:00

A Year in Review:I was sitting here this morning, after an evening of making out with yet another co-worker, (this would be number three…and he’s like 22), reflecting my last pathetic year in dating. Let’s Review:The Rockstar: Turn-ons: Cigarettes, cocaine, and not calling me. Other qualities include complaining about his life and not living in my state. Of course one would think that this

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-67536618505891285122008-04-08T17:58:00.000-07:002008-04-08T18:07:42.628-07:00

While we were still at the wine bar, I weighed my options: Go home (the option that a normal, well-adjusted person would have chosen), or just drink until MW was tolerable (there aren't enough fruits and roots in the world to produce that amount of alcohol). Of course, I chose the second option, because, let's be real, drinking is not only fun, it is also always the answer when the answer is not

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-54923272200605074272008-04-07T18:46:00.000-07:002008-04-07T18:53:53.570-07:00

Apparently, the place to meet people in Manhattan is the travel section in the Barnes and Noble in Union Square.I say apparently, because that’s where, a few weekends ago I was accosted by two men and one woman.(And, of course, accosted is a wild exaggeration. Apparently I think that if someone speaks to me in a public forum other than a bar I am being accosted).What was I doing in a bookstore in

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-51028517179276813002008-04-05T07:38:00.000-07:002008-04-05T07:41:54.341-07:00

I would like to say that I went out with MW one last time for a reason other than making myself and my friends laugh. But this would be a lie. Tally:The number of times I thought to myself "I HAVE to remember what he just said so that I can make fun of him later." 1,007The number of things I said I had to remember that I actually remembered . 1The number of times I laughed at his jokes: 0The

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-4460972512533089972008-03-27T08:36:00.000-07:002008-03-27T15:25:39.642-07:00

1) Must be able to dress self. And I don't mean "dress nicely." I mean physically be able to put on pants.2) Must keep clothes on in public. This is very important to me.3) Must have an unusual name. Or a name that I cannot pronounce. 4) Must not have a job. Because there is nothing I like more than supporting a man. Apparently.5) Must be decent looking. And by this I mean he isn't dead.6)

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-7630830779196471682008-03-25T18:06:00.000-07:002008-03-25T18:07:14.661-07:00

Highlights:1) When I told him we could not stay at the BBQ restaurant he had selected for our meeting spot because I could not have a conversation with him sitting in a meat-cloud.2) When he told me "I swim, play football...pretty much every sport to keep in shape...my friend saw me without my shirt on and couldn't believe it," and then proceeded to stand up turn his back to me, TIGHTEN HIS

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-4339460467346515892008-03-25T17:40:00.000-07:002008-03-25T17:57:37.727-07:00

Updates:1) Mr. Wonderful is not very good looking at first, but after 3 glasses of wine he vastly improves.2) However, not enough to distract from his high-pitched donkey bray.3) Mr. Wonderful is from the great state of New Jersey4) Which would explain the light blue polyester button-down he was proudly sporting.5) Sadly, he could not cover up his polymonstrosity because despite the 40 degree

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-88015012103976181362008-03-24T18:50:00.000-07:002008-03-24T19:50:34.469-07:00

Let me take you back a few weeks. To a simpler time. A time where I could leave my house without having to febreeze first. George Bush was President, and I had yet to learn of how much money I had been losing having sex with men who were not the Governor of New York. I am such a sucker.Anyway, there I was, at a quaint little pub named "Patrick’s Pub" somewhere in New York City. Number of bottles

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-358388254471663915.post-1860448471001948862008-03-24T17:38:00.000-07:002008-03-24T18:34:37.049-07:00

1) Admit that you have a problem.2) Accept that there is nothing you can do about your problem.3) Feel an overwhelming sense of freedom.4) Celebrate sense of freedom with a glass of wine.5) Have another glass of wine to celebrate wine’s freedom from the bottle.6) Feel sorry for wine still in bottle.7) Become a hero and liberate remaining wine. Viva la

Cookiefacehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09686125815837417222noreply@blogger.com0