Damn you, Haagen Dazs!

9 06 2009

When you are lactose intolerant, ice cream is the enemy. So I’d like to take a moment to say FUCK YOU, to Haagen Dazs.

I’ve see you looking at me. Begging me to take you home. “I only have five ingredients!” “I come in irresistible flavors like ginger and brown sugar!” I have ignored you. I have been deaf to your pleas to give in.

Until now.

Somehow a pint of Haggen Dazs Five in Ginger managed to make its way into my cart. And then a big scoop of it managed to end up in a nice, tall glass of Vernors ginger ale. It was a creamy, delicious burst of ginger in my mouth. Heavenly. So what if two of your five ingredients are dairy?

Worth the pain and intestinal torture I’m currently experiencing?

Absolutely. Brown Sugar…you’re next.





You told the internet I’m a bad Catholic!

7 06 2009

This weekend hasn’t been a total wash, Saturday I spent the majority of my afternoon in the pool and then took my mother to see Up. Then there was the time I told everyone Wifey had leg herpes because she told the internet I was a bad Catholic. How?

Fridayt night Wifey and I decided to have a bonfire. It got chilly so it seemed like a good idea. We were both craving pizza so went to this little hole in the wall in town. That alone was an experience. As we’re talking, the subject of children comes up. I’ve told her for awhile she should name her child Samuel Adam. Guess what she drinks a lot.

Well, right now she is exploring the idea of a relationship with a nice Jewish boy. So she tells me she was curious if that was a Jewish enough name. We were both raised Catholic…well, she was. I wouldn’t use the term Catholic to describe anything about me besides a few tokens in my car and that one tattoo…

Anyway…

I look at her, dead serious, and ask…”Is there an Adam in the Bible?” She gets that look on her face, incredulity mixed with amusement. I almost follow it up with “what, was he one of the apostles?” Before the giant DUH goes off in my brain.

Needless to say, I will never hear the end of this. She and her family are known for being…special. Just today her mother thought there were 100 minutes in an hour and that please was a five letter word. I love these people. Truly. But there is no room to make fun of a slight religious mistake when her mother once told her her boobs were so big they should be in the book of Genesis. Then, Wifey didn’t even know there was a book of Deuteronomy!

Ok, I’m grasping because seriously…I’ve even been to the Creation Museum. It’s terrifying. They make everything Adam’s fault though, so it was sort of fun to blame everything on man. Even the first one couldn’t get it right. I kid, sort of. I’m just sort of, you know…blonde.

I have a theory. After one of those epic benders I like to go on I wake up the next morning and my brain will say to itself, “Okay, you can only remember one of these things after the shit you pulled last night. Which would you prefer to keep, the lyrics to 99 Red Balloons or the name of the first man? 99 Red Balloons it is! Good choice.”

So in other words, I should probably start going to mass.

Today I have been lazily lounging with the basement cat and my puppy. Both were in my lap. Happy! I encourage you to go see Up because, OMG. Doug is my dog. SQUIRREL! I loved it. Now I have to get up and go run some errands. Before I do that, I really want you all to head over to Samurai Strong and read my comments on her picks for names. We laughed until we cried. What can I say? When you ask me to make fun of something, as your friend, I will give it 100%.





You’re barely missing me, I’m missing you

6 06 2009

Nothing is ever simple. The latest bullshit is this gem. Banky’s brother’s wife found my phone number and freaked the fuck out. I’m not mad at her, I would have been a little upset myself if I found some chick’s random number with my husband’s shit. The way the idiot twins handled it was what I’m irritated about. Married Twin decides to tell the wife I’m just a friend of Banky’s and we wanted to meet for lunch so I could give him a pair of sunglasses.

Le sigh.

That doesn’t set her mind at ease. What would have been better? The truth, perhaps? “Oh her? That’s the chick Banky is currently sleeping with. She probably wanted to have lunch so she could squeeze me for information.” Men really do think on a different plane than women.

So I get a text at 6:38am; “Call me as soon as you get this. It’s kinda important.” I groggily call him and get “Sorry to wake you up, homewrecker…” Seriously? I am the LEAST likely woman ON EARTH to steal another woman’s man. Fuck off, you know that. So he explains the whole thing to me and apologizes and then drops this bombshell. “She may call you.” THE EFF? If you two had told the truth, I wouldn’t be expecting angry phone calls from some woman I’ve never met and frankly, pity.

Anyway, this all leads to me deciding it’s time for “the talk”. I am going to very politely bow out and exit before this gets messy. If he wants me to stay, he has to ask and he has to mean it. I don’t need a label, but I need some structure. The new plan was to just ignore him until he goes away (becauseĀ that worked so well last time) or pin him down and have “the talk.” I had it in my head about 2,873,488 times today.

I told him we needed to talk because I had some things to get off my chest. I need to say my piece. I know there are two very different outcomes here. I’m ok with either because, at this point…they’re both equally terrifying. I don’t want to lose him and I very obviously can’t be his friend and stay out of bed with him. I don’t want to get my emotions anymore involved than they already are. I will not get hurt. The thought of starting a real, live grown up relationship is just paralyzingly scary. I don’t know what I’m going to do besides talk a whole lot of nonsense at him and let’s be honest here…go through this again in a few months. I hate how predictable he and I are.

The Get Up Kids – My Apology





No one told you, it won’t be enough.

4 06 2009

The live version of Cory Branan’s Crackerjack Heart makes my heart do funny things. I had to hit next tonight. Lucero – Sixteen came up next. I hate you iTunes.

No word from the B-Man since he came to visit me at work on Tuesday. May or may not have lunch with the twin tomorrow. I have stopped caring. I refuse to let myself get tangled up in his mindfuck again. If and when I do see him again I have very simple words for him.

I like you.

That’s all I want to say to him. Mostly because…goddamnit…I do. I really fucking do. He’s not perfect. He’s not forever. But I like him. He makes me laugh and I almost feel safe with him. Safe enough to be myself. I’d like to buy into the bullshit girls tell themselves and each other. Oh he really likes me and he’s scared of how much so he’s pulling back. Fuck that. That’s MY trick. Maybe he’s just not that into me.

You don’t bring a girl taxidermy unless you’re at least a little into her though…right?

He makes no sense and I am washing my hands of the whole matter. My philosophy is this: If it’s our time, it’s our time. If it’s not, I’m going to bow out gracefully now and go pout in the corner for a few days. I just worry that he’s going to go back to Big Red again and if that’s the case, I’ve lost a friend. I refuse to be the in between girl and I really will lose all respect for him if that’s what happens. Whatever we are will cease to exist. I am no one’s back up bitch.

So I guess I’m settling back into my badass “don’t need nobody” girl routine. It’s a little lonely, but it’s safe. No one is gonna hurt this pretty little face ever again. This attitude is exactly why I think I’d make a great stripper. Confused? Read the rest of this entry »





You know that you are not alone, need you like water in my lungs.

3 06 2009

I am sick of my hormones. Shark week is inevitably a roller coaster of crazy. One minute I love everyone and the world is full of happiness and sunshine. The next I’m sobbing uncontrollably because Banky has not responded to my text message about banjos and bagpipes. And then there’s the blind rage. The pure, white hot rage that only my mother, sisters and boyfriends can inspire in me. The kind of angry that makes me turn my phone off and drive around listening to Sufjan Stevens while trying not to bawl my eyes out to Sufjan Stevens – For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti or Sufjan Stevens – Redford (For Yia-Yia & Pappou).

It’s something so silly and stupid but it just pisses me off. I had to just walk away or I’d explode all over the poor woman and she doesn’t deserve that. Few people actually deserve my wrath. I am Irish and Scottish. I have a horrible temper. As quick as it flares, it burns out. I need that chance to flip my shit and get it out of my system…then I’m fine. During shark week, I try to avoid my mother all together as the sight of her usually incites my rage. She is the sweetest woman alive, when she wants to be, and she does so much for me. However, she is also incredibly frustrating and lacks common sense and logic. It’s best that we don’t cross paths over those five days of hot flashes and mood swings.

In other news, there is no other news. I’ve been thinking a lot about music lately. How it defines my life. How much I love it. How my favorite songs define me better than I ever could. I have a soundtrack to everything. At dinner tonight with Savannah and Wifey we were talking about the awful early 90s music they were playing and Savannah and I could pinpoint it to specific events in our childhood. Music drives people like us. My memories all have playlists. Even my friends have playlists.

I could go on about that for hours. I don’t want to bore you to death with why it’s so important to me, but I will say this. Any man who ever wants to be a serious part of my life has to understand my love of music. Not just know that I like it, but understand how it defines me and how I use it. Banky hates Lucero. It bugs me, sure, but it’s ok. As long as he gets what they mean to me. I knew a guy in college who said to me once “Girls don’t have the mental capacity to like music, they just like the dudes in the bands”. It took everything I had not to knock his teeth down his throat. Read the rest of this entry »





She’s got a hornet’s nest inside her chest and a swarming on her mind.

1 06 2009

So I left off with last weekend. Nothing that epic really happened through the week. I spent the majority of it looking for a copy of Chasing Amy. I’ve really wanted to watch it lately. Partly to deal with whatever is going on in that crazy brain of mine regarding Douche McGee and partly because of…well…Banky. I didn’t pull that name out of a hat you know. Speaking of that, I won two things this week! We’ll get to that though. Anyway…

I went to five different stores. I called BNB because I know he works part time at a CD/Game Exchange place. That was on Tuesday maybe? I still haven’t heard back from him. I get so sick of this shit with him. He all wants to hang out and go do stuff and he’ll call me “just to say hi” and we’ll be about five minutes away from me thinking it’s finally going to happen this time…then he hooks up with some annoying ass hipster girl with a stupid haircut and I cease to exist until they break up. Every. God. Damn. Time. So, to that I say…fuck off. I’m too poor for any tattoos right now anyway and I really liked his friend that did my mitten tattoo at the convention. In other words, suck it, ink man.

Tangent ended. What the fuck was I talking about…oh. Chasing Amy. Banky told me to try Suncoast. I called and they had it. He has to drive by there on his way home. I text him to say thanks, they have it. I get back a smiley face. I respond with “No…this is when you say ‘I’ll pick it up since it’s on my way home.’ Thanks.” He says he can’t today because he’s helping a friend build a deck but he can tomorrow. Now I feel like an asshole. I told him not to and I ended up “borrowing” it from the internet. Well, now that I have downloaded it, I have to watch it, right? BAD IDEA. Read the rest of this entry »








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