Slightly Undone

on living together.

2011-08-08T22:21:00.003-04:00

Six months into cohabitation, and you'd think I'd have it together. I dust, he cleans the bathroom; I cook, he does laundry; I take up the whole bed, he gets the remote.

But every once in a while I trip on my own feet, unexpectedly, and I skin my knees. It stings. It's the time when we're on the couch, watching TV, and I start awkwardly fumbling with his PJ bottoms. I peer into the hole because those boxer briefs are booby trapped and he says, "What are you doing, it's weird." So I'm embarrassed and shyly suggest that maybe he wants to have sexy time. I actually call it sexy time because I'm socially (and apparently sexually) inept. And he cracks up, but only because I'm making that weird face where I stick out my tongue, but to me - he's not attracted.

So I keep it going and go to the bedroom, try to put on my best sexy duck-face, and promptly dissolve into a sobbing mess. Maybe I'm trying to switch it up and what the fuck, does he not love me any more? Am I not sexy? And what, is that stick of butter I cook with twice a week showing up as a dimple or ten on my pasty ass? I bury my head into his chest hair and cry and he's at half-mast because he thought he was getting it in.

It's those moments when he has it together for both of us. He knows I need to cry and knows to wipe my tears and say he's sorry, that he didn't mean to hurt my feelings. That he's very attracted to me, I'm his best friend, and he loves me.

Six months into cohabitation, and we're getting it together.

slowly climbing.

2011-07-06T16:40:00.000-04:00

Where have I been?

I don't want to be one of those bloggers who meets someone and gets too caught up in their relationship to write.

I don't want to say I don't want to be one of those bloggers either.

There has been such an absence around these parts that I've started four different posts and deleted them. I guess because I want to make that "comeback post" one that you star in your Reader and email to all your friends because it makes you feel good on a bad day. Full of inspiration and wit and squees.

It's just not.

Life hasn't been bad, or boring, or even uneventful. More like the mood and motivation to write has been lacking. Maybe it's the heat of summer or trying to keep an apartment clean with a boyfriend who doesn't care so much about vacuuming and dirty dishes. It's probably coming home each night to the same conversation the rest of America has: what do you want for dinner; I don't know, what do you want; I don't know...let's get really hungry and see who is the first one to kick the dirt.

It's definitely about getting caught up in Pretty Little Liars and watching all episodes ever made in a week and a half. Or wanting to shake The Bachelorette for being so damn pathetic.

I'm also wondering what in the world Google+ is and why it is so *secretive.* I want an invite so I can either become lazy about it or obsessed.

Right now, I'm that girl sitting on the edge of the social media homecoming dance...reading blogs and tweets and taking notes on what everyone is wearing, but not asking anyone to shake a leg to Last Friday Night.

Whatever it is, I want my mojo back.

crazy life.

2011-04-25T13:25:00.000-04:00

There is a new little friend in our family...that has four legs. After Mr. Bean passed I spent 1.5 days in bed; sleeping, crying, force-cuddling Jackson (Boyfriend's pup), and squeezing him until his eyes bugged out. Sometime during day two I decided to get out of bed, put on my finest sweat pants, and head up the road to the humane society to torture some other animals (Jackson was kind of over me at this point). I walked in and saw two little black schnoodle puppies. One boy and one girl, the boy having slightly more wavy hair - a la Mr. Bean. They were three months old, 12 pounds, and had just arrived a few days prior from another shelter that didn't have room for them anymore.

Despite the little girl having more coarse and wiry hair, I was instantly drawn to her. I picked her up, and she melted in my arms. Her cheek was pressed up against my cheek, and her whole body relaxed. Since she was so young, they wouldn't allow her to be on the floor so we couldn't play. I walked around the whole small-dog room, holding her and giggling.

I put her back and picked up her brother, and he just didn't feel the same. He wasn't as much of a lover, and didn't seem to really connect with me...he was more aloof about the whole thing. So I put him back and moved on, picking up a few other puppies and snuggling them, wondering where they came from.

Before I left I decided to pick up the little girl again. She pressed her cheek up against mine again, and gave me little kisses on my nose. We were sitting on the bench together when a couple came in, looking around the shelter. Their eyes met mine, the woman pointed and said, "There she is...are you adopting her?"

I froze, and within a few seconds I was able to stammer back, "Yes. Yes, I am." I didn't plan on taking her home, but I knew I couldn't let anyone else have her. Feeling a little guilty, I quietly walked up to the volunteer and told him I wanted to take her, which the couple saw me do. They were clearly there to get her, and I took her. But I wasn't letting her go.

I made a quick call to Boyfriend, letting him know that though I hadn't planned it, I was coming home with a new little girl. After the adoption process, I carried her out and stopped at PetSmart on the way home to buy a new food bowl, chew toys, puppy food, and a pink leash. Shopping for a girl pup felt so different, but she was my sweet baby girl and she was going to have everything PINK.

We got home and Boyfriend was home in a few hours. She was all about the belly rubs, so Boyfriend was giving her one on the couch.

"Ummm, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think this is a girl."

"What are you talking about? She had a pink collar on and all the paperwork says Female."

"Ummm...(points to underbelly) that's a penis."

What do you know...my little girl is a little boy.

Introducing Finn

(and we kept the pink leash)

the love of my life.

2011-04-10T21:53:00.000-04:00

I've struggled with coming here to write for some time. Sitting down and forcing myself to really face things and admit to myself that he's never coming back terrifies me. I don't want to feel, I don't want to cry. I don't want to know he'll never crawl up and lay on my chest before bed ever again. I watch TV and as soon as an animal comes on the screen I wait for his bark so I can tell him to stop barking.

I would let him bark forever if he could come back.

Each day I wonder if there was something I could've done...if I should've recognized a bladder infection or taken him to the vet sooner. By the time I realized something was wrong, words like "septic" were being thrown around and there were IVs and one day later I was on the phone with the vet when he took his last breath.

I wasn't even there. I couldn't tell him it was okay or how he would always be the love of my life. The absolute love of my life.

He has the most beautiful urn, sitting on a table all his own, next to my favorite picture of him. And I can't bring myself to pick him up. That makes it too final. To fill an urn with the body of such an amazing spirit, of a creature who *knew* life was about nothing but love and being loved, feels wrong. It feels like cheapening all he had to offer the world and the people around him. My small fry, blueberry eyes.

One piece of my heart knows he's okay because of my mom. All I can do is know my mom was there with him when I wasn't. And I know it was his and her way of letting me know everything was alright, because he passed on March 29th. My mom passed on September 29th, 2008.

And now they are together, fluffing around the clouds of heaven.

Mr. Bean, I will never forget you. Take good care of Mom for me, and I'll see you both on a sunshiney day.

nesting.

2011-03-15T16:11:00.000-04:00

This new-apartment thing is awesome. We got some free (FREE!) couches from Boyfriend's family on Sunday, so things are finally starting to feel normal. While we aren't at photo-posting status yet, I wanted to share some of my favorite finds:

{via} to hang over this bed

{via} while drinking tea from

{via} and showering behind

{via}

Much more to share later...still digging our toes in.

xoxo

hot mess.

2011-03-02T20:21:00.000-05:00

We've moved. We're all over the place. We don't have couches, tv stands, bookshelves, a vacuum, pots and pans, a microwave, or any sort of storage solutions. Prepared much? Even though I am more than testy and he is up to his adorable beard in dirty laundry, the feeling I have laying down next to him in *our* bed is so worth it. I wouldn't trade that for ten microwaves and a Le Creuset set.
My eye has been twitching uncontrollably since Friday because of the clutter. I HATE clutter. And wouldn't you know, a solid 87% of it is mine ofcourseitis.
Got completely skunk-drunk on Saturday while putting together IKEA furniture. Then had entirely too much pizza and beer, and barfed. I know how to ~~drink my emotions~~ celebrate.
We have a gas range, and I've never used gas in my entire life. Considering I've managed to set more than a few electric stoves on fire, I can only imagine the fun I will have with an open flame.
I'm a sucker for electronics and can get a new phone as of yesterday. I'm a hardcore Blackberry user, but the white HTC Evo has been poking its way into my brain. Anyone made the switch? I'm hesitant about the touchscreen keyboard but it has a KICKSTAND, people.
Target had a paper shredder on sale today. I've been hoarding BAGS of junk mail with the intention to shred, and I think a shredding session tonight will do lots of good for my psyche.
We have DVR! And HD! Bonus: if you sign up for DirectTV through Costco, you can get the same deals they have online *plus* a $180 Costco Cash card. Totally awesome.
Pics of the apartment to come once we get a bit more settled.

a brand new home.

2011-02-19T13:00:00.003-05:00

via

I fall asleep every night, him whispering in my ear how happy he is that I'm his girlfriend. Each morning, I wake up to him telling me how happy I make him, and how much he likes me.

We lay in bed next to each other, with our e-readers, both equally obsessed with the Hunger Games. I feel his eyes on me, so I turn to look at him.

"You're so pretty."

We started the hunt for a place together on Craigslist, and found a retro 2 bedroom apartment that boasts the tiniest bathroom in the world. Design ideas are all-consuming. We have to have enough space for dinner parties, we want to entertain, need to have a bar, and how the *fuck* are we going to make this bathroom work? After an exhausting weekend of Ikea, Home Goods, consignment shops, Costco, serious bargain hunting, and mini wine bottles for bar-in-the-car, we are really doing it.

Today we signed the lease, in both our names. We did it.

I'm on the hunt for the perfect shower curtain, showing him pictures online and declaring them "too girly" for him.

"Baby, I don't care about a shower curtain. I just want you to be happy."

**to put the bathroom situation in perspective, let's have a look:

if we can do this, we can do anything.

(excuse our funky unscrubbed bowl)

scattered.

2011-02-16T16:03:00.000-05:00

Even the Starbucks barista thinks the Trenta is a little redic. I got a Trenta black iced coffee this morning and he looked at the cup....looked at me....and said, "Are you really going to finish that? Like, all of it?" Yes, sir. I'm tired.
Found out yesterday I've been looking at the wrong stock ticker for about two years....and the right one is doing much better than the wrong one. Yippee!
Boyfriend got me beautiful flowers for Valentines day, but even better than that was when he said, "Happy Valentine's Day! Wait....Happy first Valentine's Day."
If you haven't read The Hunger Games series, you totally should. I'm obsessed.
Thank goodness Michelle got sent home on the Bachelor. Girlfriend seemed bat shit crazy.
I'll be making an announcement on Saturday...and here's a little hint:

squee!

the couple thing.

2011-02-08T10:13:00.000-05:00

{via}

I'm not used to it.

Suddenly I'm making plans for 'us,' and what are 'we' having for dinner, and babe - what time do you want the alarm set for?

We've jumped head-first into the deep end, and though I haven't busted out any fancy butterfly strokes, I'm definitely past the water wings.

It's crazy to wrap my mind around: having plans on the weekend, not wearing full makeup 'just in case' you meet someone, someone who calls when they say they will and keeps you company on IM all day at work. I haven't had a real boyfriend in almost two years. Now I have a steady bed partner with twisted sheets and tangled limbs.

I'm all, "Holy shit, we haven't spent one night apart in two weeks," and part of me likes it but part of me is scared. I'm used to casual dating, where you see them a few times a week and usually one person is all, "This is *not* what I signed up for, gimmesomeroom."

This morning I wore his hoodie to work and I keep sniffing the sleeve because it smells like him. He DVRs Gossip Girl and 90210, makes me belly laugh, and bought a twin pack of matching Nalgenes at Target.

Even though I'm still rediscovering what it means to be a couple...

I absolutely adore him.

how about that.

2011-02-01T18:00:00.000-05:00

Y'all. I've got a boyfriend.

Squee! A boyfriend! A real, Facebook-claimed boyfriend.

And rest assured, it's not the human dildo.

Too fast? Let's catch up. My friend introduced me to her brother the day before I met dumb fuck...the first thing he said to me when I ordered my (favorite) beer? "That is the worst beer ever."

Oh! Hi, nice to meet you too.

We got along, he was cute in a hipster-sort of way (but not the part when they wear women's jeans); I met the shithead the next day and so from then on we weren't trying to be romantic or anything, just getting to know each other.

There's a good chance we went on a date during one of me and asswipe's fights, and we ended up making out one fine Sunday Funday.

Ain't that a bitch.

I told him about the royal douchebaggery incident, we met up on the 22nd, and now he's my boyfriend. Since I've known him for almost three months, I don't think it's that crazy. And it's definitely made me realize how much better things could be when you're with someone.

The best part is how easy it is. I'm talking E-A-S-Y. We decided to be 'exclusive' on Sunday. It was an amazing 65 degrees so we were at Piedmont park having a picnic and people/puppy watching. Then we went to have some $1 PBR (because we are classy), and he brought "us" up. He told me he really liked me, he wasn't looking for anything else, and that he considered me his girlfriend.

Then we celebrated our official couple status with shots of Tuaca.

::sigh::

what a dick.

2011-01-21T13:33:00.000-05:00

The shady motherfucker I was dating-ish decided to try to pull a fast one. He essentially thought he would be able to date two girls at once, and has been ever since I met him (back in November).

Color me stupid.

Anyway, I started the new blog so I could blog about him (and future guys) without them knowing; sometimes you just need an outlet.

Since he is currently in London for business and out of reach, I decided to break the news that he was *so* busted - like his girlfriend and I have talked on the phone, busted - on my other blog.

Then emailed him with nothing but the link to the new blog.

I'm really baffled at how he thought he could pull a stunt like that off. It's like I don't even know how to respond to the situation. BRAD PITT couldn't even pull that shit, why would a 38-year old with some serious social issues think it would work?

Let's all raise our glasses and toast to being above and beyond the so-called men that think they are immune to the solidarity of women: may we always have the last word.

Fucking idiot.

If you want the link to the new blog, please email slightlyundone@gmail.com. I would *love* to share!

x = not applicable to real life ever.

2011-01-18T21:27:00.000-05:00

My roomie Shell gets a big shout out today. It was her first day of college; she is finally pursuing her dream of becoming a nurse.

HOLLER, SHELL BELL! ::queue graduation music::

She came home tonight armed with a BlackBoard login, textbooks, my beat up TI-83, and a mechanical pencil. Ben, Shell, and I have been at the kitchen table attempting math homework for the last hour and a half. It looks something like this:

(table)3people + fractions / dog in a diaper = please excuse my dear aunt - what the fuck is an exponent?

Bottom line: if it's not a fifth of liquor, it's not getting us anywhere.

In more buttock news, I got a charming call from the doctor a few weeks back informing me that my staph infection was indeed MRSA. My follow up appointment is February 4th to be cultured again, because ya know - THISSHITCANKILLYOU, and I decided to go ahead and make my annual for the same day. I figured she's already seen the last of my dignity so I might as well let her in on the whole kit-and-kaboodle. Shit, she's probably had an Advent calendar made for the occasion as I, for one, am *thrilled.*

And why I felt the need to share that, I will never know.

new stuff.

2011-01-17T14:52:00.000-05:00

I've started a new blog venture that is a little different than things here at Slightly Undone.

SU isn't going anywhere, just needed a corner that's more for ranting and (more or less) anonymous.

If you want the link, email me at slightlyundone@gmail.com.

xoxo

beginning.

2011-01-04T12:03:00.000-05:00

via

I will buy wine from somewhere other than Trader Joe's
I will drink more water
I won't accept someone who won't fight for me
I will find someone who knows I'm worth fighting for
I will move on when it's not moving
I won't settle for someone who doesn't make me a priority
I won't wait for a phone call
I will surround myself and Mr. Bean with others who challenge us
I will begin to write a large piece of work
I will read much more

I will stop making excuses

I will move into a new place

I won't rush

I will smile

happy new year.

ready for a new year.

2010-12-27T14:25:00.000-05:00

Good news is my butt is healing up quite nicely. Still not out of the woods, but I can sit and be comfortable now; such a luxury.

Bad news is my car got broken into on Christmas day (or what I guess was Christmas day as I found it Sunday morning). I had a couple boxes of things in my backseat and the entire window was shattered. My stuff had obviously been rummaged through, but since I don't remember what was in the boxes I'm not sure what was taken. Oddly enough, my GPS, ipod, and entire collection of Sex and the City were left untouched. I'm thinking maybe it was a homeless person who needed clothes, and that's okay. I still could've done without the deductible to get it fixed though.

I haven't seen my guy in almost a week. He has some family stuff going on and felt like he needed to spend the holidays with them, which I totally get. Now he's doing that clam-up guy thing, and it's bothering me. I don't want it to bother me and I know it's typical dude behavior to get all quiet and distant when something is going on. But I want him to feel like he can vent and bond with me when he's upset, not go into hibernation. Kind of makes me feel a little useless, you know?

I'm ready for 2011. Apparently 2010 has decided to go out with a bang, and I'm over it.

bah humbug.

2010-12-22T22:29:00.000-05:00

For the squeamish, I apologize in advance and you may want to skip this post. Like, really. Don't read it.

Dear Santa,

I want a do-over of the past two weeks. Forget the shoes and the handbags and Kindle books, just get me back to two weeks ago and I'll be the happiest girl on the planet.

Two Saturdays ago I used Nair on my ass (not the whole ass, think Brazilian style; I'm chicken shit for the real thing). I've been using this method of hair removal for a while now with flying colors, despite the polite warning on the bottle to avoid use on this area.

Monday night I noticed a bump on my butt cheek. Close enough to the exit row, but not seated in the exit row (if you catch my drift). No biggie.

Tuesday, still there and slightly more hurty. Strange, but whateves.

Wednesday, I could barely sit at work. An area the size of my fist was flaming red, hot to the touch, and swollen. Also? When I pressed on it my skin was HARD. It was pain like having an ingrown nail and stubbing it on a door frame. What the fuck is wrong with my ass?

Thursday morning, I go to an urgent care doctor since I have yet to find a PCP. He looks at it and there isn't anything to pop/culture. He decides to treat me with an antibiotic used for STAPH and Vicodin and sends me on.

By now I've lost track of the days, but my butt is officially oozing shit. Red, nasty, shit. And there is a HOLE IN MY BUTT. A hole, the size of a pencil eraser. OPEN WOUND. What the flying *fuck* is happening here?

Tuesday I go to my 'friend's' PCP. I'm told to put on a hospital gown, lay on my side, and the doc proceeds to squeeze the SHIT out of my ass for 5 MINUTES. Hard. I then get two shots in my ass, one on each side (just think about that graceful transition as I was laying down in an assless hospital gown). One steroid, one antibiotic. She then flushes it out with saline and STUFFS IT with gauze. Would you like to know what a foreign object feels like being stuffed into an open wound? I would imagine it's the same as pushing a 15 pound baby out of a vagina. Since I've only had the former happen to me, I can't say for sure; I suspect this is the case. I stay on my current antibiotic and get prescribed another.

I have a STAPH INFECTION. From an ingrown hair from Nairing my ass crack.

So yeah, a do-over would be amazing at this point.

Love,

Slightly Undone

PS: If you could also find my pride and return it to me, I lost it last Tuesday. Thanks.

open me up.

2010-12-11T12:31:00.000-05:00

The hot water is on full-blast, and lavender-scented bubbles are working their way up the side of the tub. Hands slip under the edge of a tee shirt, lifting gently, slipping it over her head. A pair of tiny undies fall to the floor while lips are touching, ever so slightly parted by the tip of his tongue. He steps over the side of the tub, breaking the kiss to inhale sharply; the water is hot. He lowers himself slowly into the water and helps her step in. Her body instantly breaks into tiny chill bumps; the result of heat on chilly skin.

She smiles.

He runs his hands up and down her back, cupping the curve of her bottom. A shy feeling creeps into her cheeks and she settles into the water; each on their own end of the tub, facing each other. Fleshy bits bob above the bubbles and it's in this moment she feels most vulnerable. The angle of the tub and the way her head rests on the top isn't a flattering pose. Little belly rolls and full breasts are just above the surface. Without a way to adjust herself, to cover up, she's exposed. Making a tiny effort to cover up, she slowly - deliberately - stacks the bubbles in front of her.

He dips a cup into the water, pulls her ankles up onto his shoulders, and starts pouring the hot water over her exposed legs, arms, and chest. She closes her eyes and sinks further into the water, suddenly lax with the quiet sound of water scooping and falling on either side of her. His head tilts to rest his temple on the side of her foot. She puts her hand back underwater and traces little circles on his thigh, sighing.

And for this time, they are in it.

like sunday morning.

2010-12-07T20:19:00.000-05:00

via

This post has been in draft for over a week. I start, I delete, I surf weheartit...nothing.

For some reason, a subject I normally have no problem airing out has me stumped; I can't get it right.

I want to share, but not overshare; I want to be all creative about the intimiate details, but something stops me; I want to post pictures of my shit-eatin grin, but I don't want to jinx it.

How do I write about someone who has my mind floating around like dust bunnies?

For the past month, things have been easy. So easy to question my cold-sheet preference. For as long as I am old I've liked cold spots under the sheets; then he comes along with a fancy pants mattress heater and I'm wondering whether I should leave it on 3 or if I need a 4. I can't sleep close enough to him in his king-size bed, yet I can't spread out enough in my own queen. Whenever someone I'm dating looks me straight in the eye, I get all antsy and look away; with him I can look right back. I can lounge, bare-faced and pony-tailed in his boxers and tee, and he still makes me feel pretty.

He makes it easy.

still here, pinkies.

2010-11-17T11:19:00.000-05:00

MIA is my middle name. Nothing has struck me as "blog-worthy" these days, but I'm still catching up on my never-ending Reader. Hopefully the cooler weather will inspire some coffee shop time in big sweaters and comfy leggings. I miss being here and I miss being totally caught up on all y'alls happenings.

This weekend I'm going home (squee!). I'll be flying in to DC, then road-tripping to Charlottesville with my cuz and meeting my other cuz there. Oh, and Taj.

Ahem. Let's just leave it at that.

We'll be seeing Dave Matthews (natch), and the following snippets of email thread sums up our spirits completely:

I've gotta say, it's almost fitting that this is where we find ourselves... it almost makes up for your being unable to join us in Gorge-Us-ness this year... almost :) Not that it wasn't tons of fun with Gabe there instead of you, but (let's face it) I was much less excited about making out with him.

SU, do you have your yellow 'A'? I'm bringing the 'T,' so that we can have official unanimity (easier to type than to say, I assure you). I suggest that we get new ones if we can find them in our travels to the show.... maybe even a second 'T' for Tammi, and we can collectively be STAT. You know, like, I need a fucking drink, stat! :)

SU, you should skip the family event and come hang with me and get in my britches all weekend while you're there :) Just a thought... sorry, Sam!

love you guys

Damn you Taj-don't make the A decide to Stay or Leave! I agree with your assessment of timing, SU What Would You Say for catching the early flight-there is never Too Much time spent tailgating in this One Sweet World. I believe that flight would put you in around 9:15...and You and Me can Two Step it down the Grey Street, getting to CHO as early as 11:30. I'm not sure when the Budget Inn will let us check in, but we won't let that Crush our plan. We can round up some goods and find a nice Bartender to serve us some Rye Whiskey, or Seven, while we Don't Drink the Water, even if it is Still Water. Taj you can join us at your earliest convenience-that is Out of My Hands though. Don't rush and Crash, I don't want you to end up lying in the Hands of God just yet. When you get there we can Dive In and Seek Up The Best of Whats Around, never solely basing decisions on What You Are or Why I Am but relying on the triumvirate-that is until we meet up with my Sister:)

Can I just say, it's Funny the Way It Is So Damn Lucky we all get to see DMB at The Last Stop! Maybe I'm a Pig, but I wish it could be this way Everyday! I can't wait to Say Goodbye to this Satellite job for a day and just make a Break For It down to Charlottesville!

An email composed almost entirely of DMB song titles? I'm so proud.

for summer.

2010-10-27T19:39:00.003-04:00

in memory of a beautiful woman and the man who made her that way...

much love to Summer and her family.

the crazy things she does.

2010-10-26T23:18:00.000-04:00

Of course as soon as I declare blog-rehab I want to blog. Such a silly beast.

Jersey Shore party at my place. Me, Ben, Shell, and Shell's fellow flight attendant; let's call him C. We all dressed up (i.e. black eye makeup and tight clothes for the girls, wife beaters and jeans for the guys - which turned in to graphic tees since they had to have the shirt before the shirt). We drank $4 champagne out of solo cups and lots of vodka.

C does not necessarily bat for my team (or however that saying goes). Bottom line: I raided his toiletry bag for skincare regimens, and he borrowed my hair products.

Around 1:30am, Ben and Shell passed out on the couch and I was ready for bed. I woke up around 3:30 to some bumping around. C was attempting to make his way to the bathroom, got all turned around and ended up in my closet (oh, the irony) and he was NAKED.

Let me repeat: NAKED and I'm not even getting any.

At that point I was too tired to even care; even when I realized he snuggled up in my bed NAKED. He woke up next to me in the morning, sits up (still naked, y'all), looks at my dog in all seriousness and goes, "Little dog, did you steal my clothes?" And then we couldn't find his pants.

I got home after work on Friday to find "Snooki 4 eva" stained in Sharpie on my white sheets. That's the last time anyone is getting temporary tattoos at my house.
Last week I noticed a movie set across the street from my apartment. I didn't pay too much attention until I saw the same movie set today in another location, still near my house but BIGGER. I decided to do some investigating. On my third nonchalant drive-by, a guy was trying to cross the street so I stopped. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of a director's chair: The Change Up.

Any guesses who's in this movie? Ryan *fucking* Reynolds.

Any guesses where I'll be tomorrow morning? On the sidewalk, shamelessly posted up watching the action.

My messenger status of the day: Ryan Reynolds' new movie is in pre-production by my house. If I don't show up for work this week, we eloped. Or I got arrested. Most likely the latter.

taking a breather.

2010-10-20T15:19:00.000-04:00

Things will be quiet around here for a bit.

I haven't been feeling very motivated to write and be all in touch with my creative self.

Instead of filling your Readers with nonsense, I'm channeling my energy into making the migration to Wordpress. This is something I've wanted for a while, so I'll be working out all the kinks and having a (hopefully) awesome blog.

I'll be back soon, full of piss and vinegar and more trouble than ever before.

Stay tuned.

xoxo.

holler for the weekend.

2010-10-17T21:37:00.000-04:00

Friday night I met up with the POF gent I barfed in front of last weekend (yay for the second date!). We had tacos and headed out to Duluth where we saw Darius Rucker perform. He put on an *excellent* show, our tickets were only $15, and we both got a copy of his new album. It was almost like buying the CD and getting a free concert. He tore it up with hits off his last album, some old-school Hootie, a little of the new album, a couple covers, and came out for an encore to sing PURPLE RAIN. Everyone was going absolutely *nuts* and he did an awesome job. Not to mention, my dude danced with me through the whole thing.

Saturday morning I woke up early for a hair appointment. My intention was to get some ombre-ish highlights done, but since my hair was a pretty uniform blonde, it would be tough to get that effect without being too harsh. I ended up with a ton of low lights and my roots dyed a darker brown and a super edgy haircut; edgy for me anyway.

excuse the t-shirt and no makeup

After the hair appointment, I met up with a coworker around 1:00 to watch some college football. His friends ended up coming too, and before I knew it, it was 1:00am.

12 full HOURS of beer and football, not to mention great company.

Today has been spent lounging around, cleaning my room, and catchin up on blogs.

Hope everyone had a great weekend!

oct 11: date recap.

2010-10-11T23:34:00.000-04:00

One perk to living with a married couple is the outfit advice. There is usually someone around to tell you what looks good, what doesn't, and if you should burn that particular tunic (that may or may not actually be a swimsuit cover-up).

It's rare that I wear tight-fitting clothes. But I recently got skinny jeans to wear with some kick-ass slouchyish boots. I paired those with an airy white bohemian-style top, mussed up my hair in a poufy low ponytail and added a side braid.

And I was feelin it. I had a strut that conveyed the confidence of Kim Kardashian in one of those spandex dresses and hell, it's been a long time since I've felt that good in an outfit.

Or in the words of BK, "He'll get a boner."

The good: we met at a bar to watch football. Initial reaction? He is really good looking. Not in a Josh Duhamel way, but in that scruffy, rugged, rides a motorcycle and fuck-I-bet-he-looks-good-in-a-sweater way. We sat and talked for a while at a high top, then made our way over to the dart board so he could hand my ass back to me, thankyouverymuch.
The bad: I decided to celebrate the Noles win and the Gators losing by drinking stupid amounts of alcohol. I was holding my own until we went to his friend's house and decided to try that chocolate red wine that tastes like Nesquick. Rookie mistake.
The ugly: I barfed.

I shouldn't be allowed in public, or even scouting the internet for dates.

I don't know what it is, but for whatever reason I end up doing *something* to embarrass myself on an otherwise normal (even better than normal) date. Call it nerves, being over-eager, or straight up irresponsible; I can't help it. Granted it's not like he *made* me drink all that beer and top it off with a cream-based bevvie, but something about a good date gets me all giggly and thirsty.

Sigh.

We ended up sleeping at his friend's house, which we went to after football was over. I sent a text to Shell at roughly 3 am that was all, "I'm barfing not coming hume and I mish you." He was completely snug bug and kept telling me he didn't care that I barfed.

Y'all. He's a gent.

And after all that, he still penciled me in for this Saturday. He wants to take me to a corn maze.

Of course Saturday is a long way off and he has a lot of time to reflect on my social awkwardness...but fingers crossed.

oct 7.

2010-10-07T23:41:00.000-04:00

A while back I posted about joining the dating website, plentyoffish.com. I usually delete every email notification that I have a message and only log in once in a while. Then I check out the profile before I open the message. If I don't think the guy would be a good match, I don't open the message because get this: you can see when someone read your sent message, AND if they read and deleted it...definitely not the website's best feature.

While I've gotten some funny messages*, I haven't had the whole "let's hook up and btw ur so hott" message I was halfway expecting. I attribute this to my brutally honest profile, and I feel like I did a pretty good job making it clear that I'm not there to do the nasty.

To date, I've met four guys from the website. This weekend will be five. None of them have been complete creepers, but three of the four weren't anything worth deleting my profile over. Nothing against them, the chemistry just wasn't there.

The original POF guy was amazing, but definitely has quite the rough road behind (and ahead) of him. It's not my place to air his skid-marked undies; ultimately a real serious relationship with him would be a complete lifestyle adjustment. It was tough, though I made the right choice by tossin' that fish back in the pond.

At the end of the day I like the idea of being on a dating website since it takes all the mystery out of what the other person is looking for. As long as they aren't trolling for sex, they want to find someone.

For now I'll keep castin' my line and seein' what's out there.

*Two of the more hilarious messages I've received:

1. Is your name Google? Because you are everything I've been searching for.
2. Would you ever date a cross-dresser?

Y'all. I shit you not.