Tag Archives: love

Paris Can Bite Me

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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

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.

paris1

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.

cinderellas_castleHe 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.

 

What Women Really Want

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Come on in.  Pop open a cold one (non-alcoholic, of course, cus I need you to keep it classy and focus on what I’m saying).  Grab all your friends and sit Indian style on the mat.  Please don’t be concerned if you can’t sit Indian style, the more important problem is, why don’t you have any friends?   Men, I especially want you to listen up.  Hurricane honesty is about to blow you away.   Sorry Mary, there’s no spoonful of sugar with this Robitussin.  Just the cold,  green, mystery flavor your mother used to shovel down your throat.  So let’s recap what we already know:

1. We want you to be nice. But not too nice, Nicey McCallaghan.

2. We want you to pay attention to us. But watch it, Smothery McFerguson.

3. We want you to give us our way. But only half the time, Doormat McPushoverPants.

Alright, so now that I’ve given you a month to digest that very scientific and logical information, we can move on to Part II:

christina-aguilera-and-husband4.  We want you to be funny. But not a comedian with a complex that has to make a joke out of everything or he has no self-worth because he used to get beaten up at the bus stop or something.  Got that?  If you can’t make us bust a gut, then it’s OVER, Snoresville McGee.  You know how you always get perplexed when you see a fine lookin lady with an awkward geek who is unfortunate looking?  Well that’s cus she just dumped her rich, gorgeous underwear model for the guy who works the late shift at Taco Bell because he cracked a joke when he handed over her Chalupa.   Yea.  I never said these were smart decisions.  But they are what we choose, nonetheless.

5. We want you to be manly. But over the years it seems that you’ve taken this to mean stubbly and un-showered with a beer belly?  No, no.  Just because you shower, shave regularly, and don’t wear brown shoes with black pants it doesn’t mean that you’re not a man.  P.S.  it won’t KILL you to do a face mask or a pore strip once in a while.  You’ll still be allowed to shoot people on Call of Duty.

6. We want you to be romantic. The problem is, you’ve taken this idea of “romance” and twisted it into a pretzel of ungodliness.  It’s downright scary, what you’ve done.  I think the underlying roses-with-babies-breathproblem is somewhere along the line there was a glitch in the matrix and you guys got terribly confused by the term: romantic.

I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean: red roses with baby’s breath (and perhaps a fern), heart-shaped pendant necklaces (actually, heart-shaped anything), stuffed animals with mushy sayings, “gamble chocolates” with mystery fillings, or an attempt at writing us poetry.  [[Sigh]]   So really, the bottom line here is creativity.  So maybe we should rephrase this to say – we want you to be creative.

Can I get a witness ladies?

Remember it.  Write it down.  Fold it up.  Tuck it in your jockstrap.  And have a more successful life.

You’re welcome.

 

Dilemma: Finding “The One”

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Lately, I’ve received alot of questions to the effect of “how do I find the one?”  Well, it just so happens that I have more than a few answers up my very svelte sleeve.  I’ve spent weeks, possibly even months [if I were to have logged all my time] researching and compiling data for what I am about reveal to you.  As per usual, you can expect to pay not a single PENNY for the knowledge that I am about to impart upon you!  It is but merely the beginning of a lifetime of benefits that you will reap by reading this blog.  How shall I be compensated, you ask?  The smile on your face.

For many of you, it’s not that you’re unlucky, you’re just looking in all the wrong places.  As you can imagine, I’m going to break the disturbing news to you right now.  You’re never going to find creme brulee on the Taco Bell menu, and unfortunately, you never will  [because it would be awesome to be able to get a Chalupa and creme brulee all in one stop].  I will further demonstrate my point in the following chart.  Please study it with ravenous desire.  memorize it.  picture it.  dream about it at night.  frame it on your wall.  tape it to your fridge.  fold it up into a teeny tiny piece and carry it next to your heart… for contained therein you will find the answer to one of life’s most perplexing questions.

dating-finding-the-one

Now, if you look carefully, you will observe that you have equal chances of meeting your future mate in: rehab, space camp, a safari, solitary confinement, or your mailbox.  But now I want you all to take out your microscopes because we’re going to delve into this and chizzle away to find out how this affects your dating life.  With closer analyzation, you will discover that you actually have a greater chance of meeting your future mate in solitary confinement, than you do at the bar.

staggering?  perhaps groundbreaking?
something to think about.

5 Reasons Not To Date An Only Child

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  What I’m really here to talk about is dating a middle child.  I’m not one, but I’m here to tell you that if you are it’s okay.  A middle child is not the one you need to worry about… it’s the only child thats the problem.  For the love of everything peaceful, do not date an only child. 

only-childTake it from me,  a quasi-only child.  Considering that I’m not even a full only child, I’m messed up.   If you’re wondering how it came to be that I’m not a whole only child, well that is too bad because I’m not getting into that tonight kids.  So here are the 5 reasons why you shouldn’t date someone like me:

1.  We all want ginormous families.  You try spending countless summers selling lemonade by yourself and playing house with only a mommy or daddy and see how you feel.  Plus, all the stress of grandkids rides solely on our shoulders.

2. We don’t like to share things.  It’s not so much that we don’t want to share, but we just like the things that are ours, to stay ours.

3.  We are either obsessed with pets or can’t stand them.  There’s no happy medium for an only child.  Growing up, we either learned to console our loneliness by surrounding ourselves with fuzzy woodland creatures, or we were so self-absorbed with ourselves that the thought of taking care of a pet was entirely overwhelming.

4.  We have a tendency to be control freaks.  Most only children are the center of their parents’ universe, thus are the product of an overprotective and overbearing upbringing.   Which means when we grow up, we freak out and have to be in control of everything.  Everything.

5.  We have ridiculous, impossible to meet expectations.  And unfortunately, we don’t just put these expectations on ourselves, but everyone we meet.  This is because all the focus was on us and we have an inner need to over achieve.   So good luck with that.