I want you all to know that it’s so deliriously late right now that I don’t even have any midnight oil left, I’m running on fumes. Or smoke. Or whatever would be left after you’ve burnt a crap ton of oil. Coldplay is my only companion at such an hour, so consider yourselves a priority. And I’m about to mesmerize you with an amazing story much like the late night infomercial I’m currently watching that has rendered me speechless with it’s magical powers of persuasion.
But, wait, don’t you always burn the midnight oil, therefore, this blog right now really isn’t much of a sacrifice?
What is this CSI?
So. Paris guy. I’ve briefly mentioned him a couple times, and many of you have asked for further detail. Well, I’m going to give it to you so you can stop your begging already… you’re more pathetic than my Italian grandma on Thanksgiving.
grandma: Look at all this food. Oh goodness sakes, what am I gonna do with all of this FOOD? Will someone eat something, please? Britteny, can I dish you up some more potatoes, doll?
me: I can’t breathe.
grandma: [sounding as if she might burst into the ugly cry] Well, what did I make all this food for then? I don’t have anywhere to put it. I thought I told you kids to bring your appetites. Doesn’t anything taste good? Oh, now it’s going to go to waste. We can’t waste food, God won’t appreciate that.
me: It tastes great. Exactly like every Thanksgiving for the past 26 years of my life when we’ve had this conversation.
grandma: This is terrible. And so is my food. [welling up]
So Paris Guy and I dated a little over a year. He would also be the ex that inspired the blog “Teenage Acne and an Italian Boyfriend” in case you’re wondering. I discovered he had proposed to his previous fiance in Disneyland. Wha?
ex: You haven’t ever been to Disneyland? I can’t BELIEVE that! I’m taking you there soon.
me: No you’re not. I am not going to Disneyland.
ex: But it’s so much fun.
me: How would that be fun for me? I throw up on rides and Mickey Mouse creeps me out and I hate fairy tales.
Anyway, things were getting rough. I needed to breathe. I did what any sensible girl would do in my situation: I ran away to London. Of all the great lengths I’ve gone to in my life, I’d have to award myself 5 stars for pulling off this shennanigan. But then, he came to take me to Paris on Valentine’s Day and my roommate accidentally told me he wanted to propose. Great.
I had specifically warned him that I was not ready for marriage. I wanted to be done with school first. When we arrived in Paris, I came down with influenza almost instantaneously after setting foot on French soil (my stomach was either rejecting the vast amount of grease I was about to consume, or the impending proposal, or just the French in general). As we toured the city, in pouring down hail, I could barely hold my head up. He then took me to see a show at the Moulin Rouge, which ended with him leaving his wallet in the cab and us wandering around the red light district for several hours with no money or way to get home. The romance was so thick in the air, that I nearly said yes.
He left me with the ring, I don’t know why. Then he went off the deep end and tried to sabotage all my friendships back home… some of the not as close friends actually fell for it. After I got back, he coerced me into couple’s therapy, but I eventually tried returning the ring, but it got stolen out of my glovebox when I let one of my friends borrow my car.
And I lived happily ever after without him.
there was a story recently in the paper about these chicks in Thailand who were injecting their stomachs with botox or something alike to make themselves appear as if they were pregnant… the girls were mainly mistresses of government officials and rich men and with these fake pregnancies were robbing these idiots blind! so moral of the story… u could find urself another rich idiot… fake pregnancy and score big over a few months hehe.
ps: how could u have gotten sick in paris!?? the land of the best food and best cheese…mmmmm except the only horrid thing about paris are the parisians…
susi. 1. i hate parisians. 2. although, we have a pretty unhealthy diet here in america, have you NOTICED how much butter these people use? holy crapballs. there’s no way my stomach would approve of that. 3. there will be no fake, or real pregnancies in my immediate future
turns out I’m also pregnant! quelle coïncidence!
I also got sick as hell when I went to France… not coincidence, something is fishy with the frogs over there.
Story is priceless and definitely the best part of waking up at 5:45 for my day. High fives all around for sharing.
haha thanks kevo. so glad you’re back for my daily ego boost. makes live worth living, really. the only place inthe world i’ve travelled and NOT gotten sick was italy. of course.
So…you’re saying that blackmailing my fiance with nude pictures of me and her uncle wasn’t good engagement strategy? But, I’m the best first husband she’s ever had!
sigh. geooooorge? i can only hope that was true. cus boy would that be awesome. and i expect a comic strip about that asap.
I remember hearing this the first time and barely believing it, especially since it was right around the time the ring was stolen.
I do have to ask one obvious question: If you knew he was a nutjob, why would you agree to go on trips with him? Did he hold you at gun point? Offer you piles of money?
Maybe it was just the romance of all the third world countries in Europe. Or the allure of the wonderful French people.
Speaking of the French, escargots in a lemon butter sauce can be quite exceptional, believe it or not. That said, Moulin Rouge is a glorified whore house, which is an odd choice of locale to escort one’s (assumed) future fiancee. But I suppose at the time, it was more convenient than the Bunny Ranch. Consider yourself lucky?
And my Italian grandma (not to mention my mother) has been force-feeding the family for decades. You’d think we were all morbidly obese by now, living in one-floor homes. Must be the sauce.
why is that that they aren’t obese though mvd? did you ever wonder that? i mean a little pudgy, yes, but not obese… is truly shocking.
um, well he took me there cus i’d always wanted to go there. and the shows they do there (nowadays) are actually pretty cool. so there was SOME rationale
Wow – you look so happy and in love in that picture. HA.
I haven’t even seen his picture and he creeps me out.
jules… oh i WAS. happy doesn’t even describe it… not even a little bit. exhuberant? bursting with inner joy?
You could say “no”. I hear that works from time to time.
Except those times when “no” really means “yes” and the girl just doesn’t know it…oh YEA> then he could have just stayed around my dorm for the weekend and followed me around brandon. GREAT idea!
Stopping by from SITS. hope things go well with the pregnancy and the guy is gone for good?
oh beverly, that was just an april fools joke! I’m definately years off from that! thanks for stopping by.
this guy has been gone for years…. no worries there! haha
I want his new fiance to read this post!!! Ok paris is amazing! Food is yummy they don’t all smell like BO and the sights are wonderful! I loved it! seriously though the main question i’ve had all day is why is cottage cheese supposed to be good for you? you still haven’t figured out this earth shattering question
dana – i want her to as well! wouldn’t that be hilarious. paris sucks, i’ll take italy any day.
just stop eating cottage cheese already. its just a curtled dairy product, how can that be good?
He loses HIS wallet yet both of your were somehow penniless. Do you always expect a guy to pay? Where was your money?
bearman. you know so so little about me. Well, considering he had bought the tix in advance, and we were boyfriend/girlfriend at that time AND he planned the whole thing in advance.. its safe to say that he was planning on footing the bill. Since i didn’t bring my purse THAT NIGHT, we had no way of getting home. Since my phone didn’t work in Paris, we couldn’t call anyone. When we did finally get back to the hotel, I of course, had to pay for everything else we did that week.
in real life, i hate when people pay for things… including people i’m dating, but that tends to piss guys off cus they think i’m too independent and they don’t feel “needed” – probably cus they aren’t.
is that satisfactory for you?
No need to be defensive. Just asked the question. I was never offended when a woman offered to pay. First date…no way she pays. 3rd or 4th…why not.
bearman.. i wasnt “serious” mad. ugh. when are u going to get a hang of my internet sarcasm already?@!#$%
hah
Words always look more menacing when read. You can’t hear the smile unless you use one of those smilie thingies.
What do you mean we aren’t needed? If it wasn’t for us, ladies would never know that the toilet seat had a hinge.
i mean, i’m not a cold hearted frigid beotch george. but i can definately support myself and i’m not looking for a sugar daddy, or any other kind of daddy to tell me how wonderful i am. ..
its most likely a disease i acquired from having the opposite of daddy issues… which i’ll most likely discuss in an upcoming blog. i know you’ll be awaiting anxiously hitting your refresh button
See George, I told you I come across as an ass in comments when I am only trying to be funny. Bring on the voice comment feature.
bearman… i got that you were trying to be funny. how about this. we both just assume the other is being sarcastic, unless told other wise
Brit, you need to read my latest post. I ran into a greasy Euro guy recently. He was half Italian. Sorry.
I have the “she’s too independent” disease, too.
We do need you guys. We need to take out the trash.
Bwahahaa! Just kidding!!
We love y’all!
haha. pinky. no worries. although i love everything italian – the men are not ones that i would ever date. they are nuts. this guy in the story, was ITALIAN. enough said.
I meant to say “We need YOU to take out the trash.”
darn. It’s not as funny when I mess it up the first time.
duhhhhhhhhhh…
Well, Paris probably is great, and at this rate, you’ll still be pregnant before me! Boys are stupid. We’ve covered this!
i betya i won’t nina… cus i am deathly afraid of having a kid and avoiding it like the plague!
Ummmm okay I dont know if you really are pregos but if you are congratulations..as far as the ex he did not sound right for you…hope paris was great though zman sends
steve—- NO I”M NOT PREGNANT. sigh. .. well, its okay, you haven’t been around here for very long so i can’t entirely blame you for not knowing that would never be true.
cool new site…had me confused for a bit.
Love that pic, you have a Julia Stiles in Bourne Identity look going there…
thanks buddy.
p.s. and i hate that pic. i was so sickly and pale! and of course, the memories are horrendous.. but uh, thanks! hah
p.s.s. love some bourne movies
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Bearman, you always come across sarcastically hilarious (or hilariously sarcastic) to me. You should hear the voice I imagine when I read your words out loud. They don’t even conflict with the other voices in my head.
Blunt D., I love yer blog, you know I’ll always refresh. It’s kinda like Seinfeld on acid ’round here. 🙂
aw gee, thanks george. yea bearman and i are just cruisin different wavelengths sometimes. get with the program already bear!
How long did it take you to figure out he was bipolar? Relocating countries to dodge an ex knocks you off the charts on the passive/aggressive scale. Probably the smartest thing you could do given the circumstances.
First of all, was the use of the word “frak” a shout out to Battlestar Galactica?!
Secondly, I suck…I have been SO busy with work/life (what is that?!) that I haven’t been the loyal reader lately that I used to be. So many new stories on here, so little time!!!
Third…that’s hysterical about the photos of the fiancee in front of Cinderella’s castle. Wonder if that’s where he proposed ;)…oh dear!!!
Last…Susi Spice, that was one great story about the injections/fake pregnancies. SICK!!!!
rach. no excuses! j/k. yea, no, seriously- below the picture of them it said “i love this because its where i proposed.” yup, right there in front of the castle. just like the girl before me. sigh.
LOL….
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed (my side; my husbands side is so much comfier then mine) this morning and felt real sh*ty. But now after reading your post, and the banter that followed, I feel so….way so….much better. merci 🙂 <–“one of those smilie thingies.”
Oh and BTW…..Did you know that the French perfected and implemented the use of sauces and gravies so as to hide the taste and smell of rotten meat? 🙂 <–Whoops, another “one of those smilie thingies”.
J’espère que votre jour est beau
haha. well i’m glad you liked it robin.
and no, i did not know such things about the french. i try not to educate myself on that culture – but it sounds like they are just as nasty as i thought!
wow that gravy/sauce thing just made me nauseous. And no, it’s not morning sickness.
You know, I’ve never had much of an opinion about the French…I am really too lazy to care about such things…but after this, my goodness, I don’t think I could ever go to France. My husband has always had it out for the French…I told him that someday I wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and he said I could go by myself. Well, looks like I’ve changed my tune.
No thanks, Eiffel Tower, rotten meat, bipolar crazy-men, smelly women who don’t shave their pits (ok, ok….I don’t know if that’s true ;), but I learned it in Home Alone!!)….
rach, i gotta be honest. in all my travels around the world i have to say that the french are hands down the meanest. they have no desire to help you if you don’t speak their language.. you have to at least attempt to speak french or they won’t even talk to you. it was miserable! and i hated the food, i don’t know why people always rave about it?! oh, and the eiffel tower? please, its like one of those things you get at, and its like, “okay, i could have just bought a postcard” its really no biggie.
I just had a friend come back from a trip around Europe and he said the people in France were JERKS 🙁
your friend speaks the truth christina.
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hahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha
i’m so sad you had this shitty experience in paris. you need to redo it! perhaps with some girlfriends. and lots and lots of wine.
amen candice. clear your schedule.
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Wow. I love your writing. I’m glad you didn’t marry this guy though because I live near Disneyland, and it is NOT an acceptable place for a marriage proposal (for anyone, but especially not you); nor is it suitable even as a topic of conversation.
Running away to London was the way to go for sure, and I’m very proud of you.
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