Shallow and Very, Very Single

Most people celebrated the Thanksgiving holiday here in the U.S. with their significant other, I instead decided to participate in a one-woman drunk show I like to call "How D Behaves These Days."

This show (in case you were wondering) involves me getting as drunk as humanly possible (while surrounded by people far less hammered than I), and yapping incessantly about useless crap before inevitably crying because of the downward spiral that is my love life and social life. Somehow I make this look good (JK! It's a hot, chunkler mess)!

So while all of my friends did things as a part of a couple this weekend like normal 20 or 30 somethings, I was either in bed (alone), running (yes, I worked out all weekend like a good little beached whale), blacking out at my parents' house or on my very own comfy couch.

That's about it. Everything is shit and I am ready to drive off a cliff (once again) and want to hit everyone within a ten mile radius (say it with me, ONCE AGAIN).

PMS? Nope. PBD? Yep.

The only thing keeping me afloat this coming week is the fact that in five short days, I will be in another country where I plan on leaving a physical path of destruction and victims, much like a hurricane.

Hurricane D.

But by victims, I mean Australian men. And by destruction, I mean Australian men. And by hurricane, I mean sweet mama booze and, say it with me, Australian men.

I am 28, stupendously single, American, morally liberal, potentially a raging alcoholic, blond and on the warpath.

Get ready, world. Mama's on her way.

Labels: boys, chinging, drunk rampages, hungover rampages, I'm sad and disappointed...in myself, mama juice, oh it is war, travel

Google Analytics aren't just fantastic for keyword information as to how people get to your site, but also for finding out where people are visiting from.

And being someone who has never been to Serbia, nor am I Serbian, nor do I know anyone in Serbia, the breakdown of visitors to my site, broken down by location, with most visitors first, was kind of surprising:

1. United States
2. Canada
3. Serbia

So a big hello to all my Serbian readers. And you readers in Egypt (who are sixth on the list, just after Australia, and just before Trinidad and Tobago).

The Internets are crazy!

Labels: fun with keywords

Yes, party people. SO@24 is still alive. Somewhere out there, in La-la Land, he runs free no longer hampered by the tethers of his wildly popular blog.

And then he realizes he has friends like me who bully him when they receive an IM from him that is too fucking funny to not inspire a guest post for my tiny little bloggy-blog. Especially when it refers to my latest guilty pleasure that makes me want to dance like a teen and sing along while simultaneously gouging my eyeballs out with my very dull cell phone....yes, we are talking about Miley Cyrus's "Party in the USA".

And with that, I pass it off to the master...

*******************

I like to imagine that scientists in lab coats with coke bottle glasses and terrible comb-overs have their sleeves rolled up, smoking cigarettes and scratching their chins in front of a giant blackboard covered in elaborate equations.

They are discovering the next top-of-the-charts pop song. I am convinced that the music industry has it down to a science now. They know how to get it stuck in your brain.

It's the only way I (a 26 year old, straight man) am able to explain why I tap my toes (secretly and under my desk) to Hilary Duff's "Beat of My Heart" or drunkenly croon along to Britney's "Piece of Me".

I've had this Miley Cyrus song stuck in my head for the last few hours. And I've only heard it once before. Three weeks ago.

This morning, I poked my head up out of my cube like a meerkat of the Kalahari Desert, gave a quick surveillance of the area to make sure no one could hear me, ducked back in my cube of isolation and Grooveshark'd the shit out of "Party in the USA".

My thoughts:

Miley, you're taking a cab from LAX to visit the Hollywood sign? That's rookie. Only a few minutes in LA and you're already sticking out like a sore thumb. Cab ride alone is going to cost you around $90. I'm sure that's peanuts to you, but there's such a better way to go about it. The Fly Away comes around every 30 minutes and will drop you off at Union Station for $7. Easy peasy. Thank me later, sweet cheeks!

When was the last time your ass was in a taxi anyway? I think you've forgotten what it's like to ride with us mere mortals. First off, you're lucky if the radio works at all. Secondly, you think cab drivers are playing Jay Z?? Chances are they going to be playing songs containing lyrics with words you aren't going to understand on this side of the Atlantic.

I also doubt that Miley has even listened to a Jay Z song. Billy Ray wasn't playing that shit in his house, I promise you that.

Miley arrives at a Hollywood club. Christ. Calm down, no one is looking at you, because EVERYONE is from out of town. No one who lives in LA actually grew up here. Besides, girls with your looks are a dime a dozen. And guess what? Hot girls wait in line too, because unless you're chums with the douche bag at the door in an Ed Hardy tee and tribal tats, your ass ain't getting in.

Welcome to Los Angeles.

Hey, if you get tired of waiting in line, hit me up on my cell. I'll be at Cha Cha Lounge asking the bartender for some change so I can get a pack of Garbage Pail Kids cards from the vending machine.

But I like your song. I hate myself for it, but damn girl... you got pipes.

Also, how many Mexicans having pleasant weekend picnics did you have to kick out before recording that music video in Griffith Park?

PS. And speaking of pop culturey things relevant to preteens. Let's stop fucking around. Logan Bruno was the original heart throb of the literary world. Logan Bruno > Edward + Jacob.

Labels: guest post, LA, music, SO24

In honor of my little sister's 25th birthday today, I thought I would share this little article profiling the Most Awesome Lifetime Movie Titles Ever.

I do this for the following reasons:

1. The sister LOVES Lifetime movies.
   
2. She also watches Maury Povich religiously.
3. She blames the watching (and Tivo-ing) of both on Roxie, the beagle, because she says Roxie makes her watch them. Right.
   

Happy birthday J-poo-pie.

xo d

Most Awesome Lifetime Movie Titles Ever

1. I Me Wed
2. Crimes of Passion: She Woke Pregnant
3. Touching Wild Horses
4. Mother Trucker: The Diana Kilmury Story
5. Why I Wore Lipstick to My Mastectomy
6. To Be Fat Like Me
7. A Fare to Remember
8. Co-Ed Call Girl
9. Cyber Seduction: His Secret Life
10. Honeymoon With Mom
11. My Stepson, My Lover
12. Baby Monitor: Sound of Fear
13. Mother, May I Sleep with Danger?
14. Do You Know the Muffin Man?
15. What If God Were the Sun
    

Labels: I love my girls, idiotic behavior, my sister is hot, vom.com

"A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked."

Labels: B, dating, G, I love my girls, idiotic behavior, my sister is hot, trainwreck, ugh

I do a lot of charming things when hammered. I fall a lot and pick fights and overreact and jump on people and fall some more and scream/screech/squeal and kick people for fun and throw things. All very charming. However, one of the most charming things I do when very drunk is steal.

Now, we're not talking anything of actual legitimate value. For instance, in college, my friend K-dog and I would steal bar equipment. I have no idea why. It would be last call and I would turn around and she would be frantically rolling up the bar mat and stuffing it into her purse. Or once, we drunkenly stole silverware from Chevy's. Or one other time, I woke up horribly hungover with four salt and pepper shakers in my purse (which was a ridiculous mess, as you can imagine).

Enter last Saturday night. We had drinks at the new boy's neighbors' apartment (who I am friends with, that is how I met the new boy) with A and A's fiance and a couple visiting from Australia. After a few glasses of Bitch wine, we all crammed on Muni to the inner Sunset to try San Tung (A and I tend to hit up the neighboring Yummy Yummy for Vietnamese and there is always a ridiculous line outside San Tung....and let's just say it is AMAZING and definitely worth the wait, espesh if you drink in the street whilst waiting like we did).

After drinking at the pre-party and then drinking while waiting in line for our table and then drinking during dinner (we decided to all double fist red wine and beer, brilliant), I was feeling a little saucy (read: hamskied).

And during a quick trip to the restroom, I saw a GIANT bag of fortune cookies. Probably not the best thing to leave out in the eye line of a drunk, chunkler klepto. Now, normal people might think, "Wow, look at that mountain of fortune cookies, whatever." Whereas my pickled, always-hungry brain grunted, "FREE. SNACKS." then wheezed, coughed and sang "I Will Survive" in the bathroom for no apparent reason.

So, upon exiting the women's restroom, I squeezed my little hobbit hand through a hole in the bag and stole fortune cookies. Like fifteen of them. And crunched them into my purse for some unknown reason and thought that was HILARIOUS and told the new boy, who I am pretty sure is convinced that I am completely insane.

Later on, once we were all at a bar and I slugged down a vodka martini, I cracked open one of my contraband cookies to find the following fortune:

"Stop looking so hard for happiness. It is right beside you."

I promptly ordered another martini. Terrifying stuff, those fortunes.

Labels: B, drunk rampages, idiotic behavior, mama juice, SF

So while the new boy and I continue this ridiculous, dialed-back version of whatever we're doing, which is really not dialed-back at all but we're trying, you start to see all the little, random things that you have gotten used to single.

For instance. Last night, after a fundraiser in the Marina and a bit too much wine with dinner, I went to his house to drink more wine and watch TV (Top Gun, which is quite possibly the most homoerotic flick of the 80's...and that's saying a lot). After which, we retired to the bedroom.

Where I was smothered within an inch of my life.

Now. Single for almost three years, minus one bout of consistent dating/sleep-overs during Summer 2008 with that idiot C, means that I have become used to sleeping alone. In fact, I ADORE sleeping alone. I can spread out and as my dear friend SO@24 calls it 'starfish' around. Legs akimbo, I watch TV while I fall asleep and smoosh up all the blankets and roll around like a lunatic and throw the sheets off and do whatever I want.

And yes, there have been times when all I want is to spoon (in fact, there was a bout last Spring when I so desperately wanted to spoon I may or may not have forced A to sleep with me on the couch so that we could spoon. I love my girlfriends). But really, that tends to be a fleeting desire, and when it comes down to it, I hate being suffocated and hot while I sleep, so back off.

Enter last night. I woke up at 4am spooned aggressively. And it was very sweet and very cute and we were holding hands while we slept (barf) and all of that, but seriously all I could think about was how the fuck I was going to get this 6'2" guy off of me. I am a teeny, tiny person. I was completely overwhelmed snuggle-wise.

I began by extracting our hands, and wiggling around a bit, hoping to jostle him awake just enough to not disturb him, but get him over to his godforsaken side of the bed. That was a no-go. So then I tried to huff a bit and move my hair and wiggle a little more aggressively and even got a little rolly. Nope. Nada.

After trying for ten unsuccessful minutes to get over myself and fall asleep with him literally suctioned cupped to my hip, I became desperate. Practically hyperventilating, I kicked his leg off of me, sat up, mumbled something about being hot, fanned myself theatrically and plopped over on my stomach, thinking that was the least cuddle-prone position. Plus at that point, due to my neurotic spooning induced anxiety attack, I was wheezing asthmatically.

When I woke up again about an hour later, I discovered that was wrong. And so while I tried to relax and calm down and fucking sleep because I was exhausted, I instead started to impulsively fidget. My body was so pissed off by the cuddling, it shut down and just made my life a living, fidgety hell. This continued for the better part of a half hour until I think it pissed him off enough to push him over to his side of the torture chamber, uh, bed, and I finally breathed easy and stopped sweating and actually slept for an hour before leaving to go to work.

As a result of this aggressive snuggle attack, I have spent the day today miserably tired and cranky. Does one EVER get used to this cuddling behavior? I think it is what normal couples do, but has anyone gone from anti-cuddle to actually finding it acceptable or dare I say, enjoyable?! Help.

Labels: B, dating, idiotic behavior, ugh, vom.com

After last week's insane hissy fit, things have by been relatively calm. Work is going incredibly well and I had last weekend's Halloween celebrations to look forward to, on top of a date last Friday evening with Boy 1, who has resurfaced.

Things couldn't really have been any better, and while they still are, the new boy and I have reached some sort of a standstill.

First, a little background.

When you begin to date someone (if that's what we're doing), and you like them and you know they like you and you haven't really liked someone like this in a long time, and there are a lot of great, foundational aspects that are clicking, you tend to get a little ahead of yourself. This tends to be the case in particular when you have both been in long term relationships before that heartbreakingly ended, scarring you and leaving you a little bit broken.

You have fun and get ahead of yourselves because to a certain degree, this is sort of what you have been looking for. To click with someone and be optimistic again at the idea that there are other people in the world that you can find potential in. Until you freak yourself out. Especially if, like him and I, you have become quite used to the idea of being alone. And are intensely indepedent at this point.

So, things come to a screeching halt, mostly because I overestimated where things were headed. And while we aren't kaput, nowhere near that actually, we are dialing back. In fact, after a somewhat disastrous Halloween (although I had a fucking fantastic time with my friends, which included crashing a random house party on Frederick and then one on Haight), with him and introducing him to my full circle of friends far too soon, and scaring the shit out of him because of that, we went on a walk on a surprisingly warm evening in the Panhandle last Sunday and discussed our next steps.

Which are to slow down. Considerably.

I am trying to not take it personally or be disappointed, to be honest, if he wasn't into slowing down and wanted to nail me down immediately, I would panic and push him away as I am wont to do. So, really, it is a healthy and good thing to slam the brakes. And I am thinking positively and am resolving to stay on the prowl and behave like a normal 28 year old young woman. We shall see where this goes.

In conclusion, to all of you afraid that this blog was going to change or be any less offensive or become boring and couple-oriented? You are in luck.

Events that promise to bring many a post in which I will potentially embarrass myself and make bad life decisions:

- The weekend of Nov. 13th: My dad's 52nd bday, BFF in town from Seattle.
- The weekend of Nov. 21st: my sister's wild birthday celebration. G's birthday.
- Thanksgiving weekend: always the time of the year when I do inappropriate things.
- December 5-20th: AUSTRALIA!!!
- NYE 2009/2010: renting out a bar in North Beach with the posse.

See? There is plenty on the way.

Afterall, I am still single. And quite shallow. Duh.

Labels: boys, dating, G, travel, ugh