Sweet Summertime… in December

HOLY SHIT!!  I haven’t written anything in many a month!  Unfortunately for me, and the last 8 months, I haven’t really had alone time long enough to write anything for my blog.  Also, again, unfortunately… I probably have lost a fan base.  But that’s OK.  We can recap and proceed…

Mase and I are still going strong.  There have been a few ups and downs but things have been more up than down lately.  For instance, one of the most whorish girls in the area, about 2 months into us seeing one another tried making her ex boyfriend jealous by taking pictures with Mase and putting them up on Instagram with statements like, “Mase is sooooo hot.” Duh, bitch.  Duh. 

It wasn’t the pictures on the Internet, it was the fact that the next night he tells me he cant see me anymore.  What was I to think!?  Hmmm… pictures surface with you and that once fat whore, then you tell me we can’t see each other?  Right.  The light of it was this; I cared but I pretended like I didn’t care because lets face it, I have been hurt bad before and I didn’t want to commit to anything anyways.  I didn’t let him in and therefore I wasn’t that hurt by it.  The funny part was when he told me 3 days later that he didn’t remember it and whatever.  So he asked me out on an official date. 

Let me recap that date:  It was quite hysterical…

He was supposed to be picking me up at my apartment (still located at the Double Decker!)  As I was getting ready I was getting nervous.  I haven’t been on a date in years.  Like a real date.  Including food and drinks.  He had seen me eat before so it wasn’t like I was going to order a fucking salad and pick at it.  I was fucking starving.  Probably due to nerves.  Rae was at my house while I was getting ready and she was telling me to calm down.  I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t. 

He gets to my house and comes inside.  I don’t know if I should kiss him hello.  I don’t think I did come to think of it.  We go to dinner at one of the local restaurants and I decided it would be a good idea to get a vodka drink.  Reg can attest to the fact that before this time I didn’t drink vodka, as I would become a vicious human being.  Actually The Ex could probably tell you better.  So I wanted to give it a whirl.  Let me tell you now that I was feeling loose… and something was cramping in my vaginal area.

I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t that. 

I go into the bathroom to investigate.  I see nothing wrong with my Geen.  Maybe it was the vodka infused eyeballs, maybe it was just a twist in my panties, I don’t know.  So we leave the restaurant and he asks if I wanna go to a bar for a drink.  Sureee!  Why not?!  So we head to this place, have a drink there.  It was a biker bar type place.  My pants were too tight and I was still feeling weird in my area.  WTF?!  I go back to the bathroom and discover that I was so nervous that I put my lace underwear on inside out. 

Now, if that has ever happened to anyone of you, you know it is the MOST uncomfortable thing to happen to a girl.  Especially on a first fucking date.  I go back to the table and tell Mase what was going on because, why not?  He makes fun of me for not changing in the bathroom and I tell him it’s disgusting and I am not taking off my pants, let alone my shoes in that toilet paper and piss riddled bathroom.  We get in the truck and leave.  We head to OPH.  En route to OPH I drop trow and flip my underwear’s the right way.  I am almost positive he now thinks I am an insane person. 

That was the recap of my first date with Mase.  Fortunately for me he is still my boyfriend and he didn’t care about my underwear being on inside out on a first date.  

I am going to upload in a fury!  Pass the word!!  I am no longer going to be lazy and I am going to be a good blogger again!  

Twisted

            I effing love Twisted Tea.  I think I love it more than anything in this world.  Except maybe food, my family, my friends, sex.  You know.  There is always a caste system when it comes to things like this.  But, I effing love Twisted Tea. 

            So last night me and Reg are chillin in the Double Decker and were sipping on some teas and chatting.  My apartment is literally just like the Squatter House in that there is barely anything in it yet due to laziness and snow. I have a table and a few chairs to hang around in, but no couch or entertainment center.  Also, I have not an entire dresser in my room, but you better bet your ass I have my underwear drawer and my sock drawer on the floor in there!  (But seriously, I need help from someone with a truck that can carry things around). 

            She goes upstairs to shower and shit and whatnot so I am sitting in my apartment alone pondering life and things when my phone goes off.  It’s Mase.

            “Do you wanna hang out when you’re out of work?  I’m off today.”

            “I’m done with work for the day.  I’m home slinging teas and making paella.”

            “Well lemme know!”

            “Just me and Reg here if you wanna come by.”

            “Well that’s an awesome invite.”

            “Oh sorry.  Let me try again… Sweet angel of mine would you like to come over and have some beverages, perhaps some paella?”

“No I'm good.  JUST KIDDING!”

            Such a jerk ass isn’t he??

            “Was my invitation good enough for you?”

            He ignored my question and went on to ask if we needed anything to which I told him to grab more teas if he wanted them.  Then he comes back with this;

            “Fuck”

            “What?”

            “What?”

            “Fuck what?”

            “YOU!”

            “Is that a promise of are you being a jerk ass?”

            “Both.”

            “Aww. Flattery.”

            No response and no show up for at least an hour and then I get a phone call from him asking and making sure that we don’t need anything here.  No, we don’t.  Whatever.  So he shows up like 15 minutes later. 

            He comes in and we all proceed to drink the teas unnaturally fast and were dancing to old 80s music and having a lovely time.  Around 1AM I decide that I am drunk and that I need to go to bed.  I don’t know if it was the teas or the sugar in the teas but I was not feeling like my lovely typical drunk self.  I was feeling like a bag of shit. 

            I’m guessing I felt the head rush due to the acrobatics that took place on my floor.  You know, the standard tripod headstands, round offs, wrestle mania, liver cleansing yoga, and other things of that nature. 

            Reg goes upstairs and we go to bed. 

            “Shirts?!” he says to me.

            “Ughhhh… fine.”

            I don’t typically wear shirts to bed, I wear underwear and a tank top, so I say fuck it and I just pull my shirt off and lay back down to go to bed.  He cuddles up behind me because he likes to be the big spoon.  Frankly, I like being the little spoon, so it works out well. 

            You know when you first start sleeping with someone and the self-conscious thing comes into play?  Well I don’t really feel that way when I am hanging out with him.  I don’t mind being naked around him, especially when intoxicated.  (But I think that’s everyone right?)  And he likes to bite my neck.  Being that I happen to also enjoy vampires and things of that nature it’s OK with me for my neck to be bitten.  Is hat weird?  I am not weirded out about it.  I’m laughing out loud at myself for being a slammy whore.

            We go a few times that night and it’s always like this; first time banging it out like a couple of jackrabbits.  Second time is slower and a little bit more, I don’t know, intimate maybe?  I don’t want to say intimate because that sounds too much like a relationship, and I don’t want one of those, but I guess intimate is a good description.  As a side note, one of my bucket list things is to look at a one-night stand man and ask him if he has intimacy problems.  And when his answer is a scoffing, “ugh, no,” I want to say, ‘good.  Get out.”  (First world problems I guess).

            So we are now laying around and I get up to go to the bathroom.  When I come back he is laying watching something or other and I walk in and say, “Jesus Christ.  It smells like sex in here.”  Sounds like something a scolding mother would say.  I don’t know why I thought it appropriate to say, but I did.  He laughed and agreed with me. 

            Again, were laying in bed and watching a movie and believe it or not, he is a sweet guy.  If you were to look at him, I don’t think “sweet” would be on the list of descriptions because he really can be a dick to people he doesn’t like.  Apparently he likes me well enough to not be a complete dick.  Ha. He plays with my hair and pulls me into his side and that’s how we fall asleep.  I guess I can dig it. 

            The next morning we don’t sleep too too late.  He gets up and gets his shit together.  Then when he is going to leave he waves to me from the doorway.  I am a blind motherfucker.

            “Are you flipping me off right now?”

            “Ugh.  No, I am not flipping you off.  I am waving.”

            “No kisses good bye?”

            “Ugh.”

            He comes over and leans down and tries to get the strings from his hoody up my nose.  Not at all cute or funny when just awoken.  But then he kisses me good bye, “there are your friggin kisses,” he says.

            “Ha, bye.”

            (Frantic wave).

            Didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.  I think he is trying to not call me or text me as much and I am doing the same.  I think if we were to do that whole texting, talking, fucking thing daily it would just be a relationship and I don’t want one of those for many reasons.  Mainly because I don’t feel like going through the fucking process and the whole “getting to know you… getting to feel free and easy.”

            I’m already free and easy, why slap more labels on it?

Stupid Sister Playing Set Up

I am sitting here wondering what I can talk about in the coming blogs, right?  And I get a text from Rae asking me what would be the ideal questions to ask a potential future husband.  I don’t fucking know!  How would I know what to ask someone?  Clearly my methods in wrangling a man and keeping him doesn’t exactly work for me.  So when she asked me to come up with questions, of course I came up with some on my own, and I googled some of the others.  (While googling, I didn’t realize I hit a fucking Muslim site and they were more questions about religion and their god and shit.  But they did have some decent questions concerning marriage and whatnot).  I guess it’s the list of 100 that are asked while arranging a marriage for their kids. 

            So I sit here and I think of a list of questions to throw her way… Here is the list.  Verbatim. 

1.  What do you do for fun?

2.  Have you ever been married?

2a. Yes- why didn't it work out?

     No- Good

3. Do you like sports?

4. What are your thoughts on winners and losers?  (Example being this; if 2 teams of little kids are playing in a championship game, clearly there is one losing team, should both teams be awarded trophies for shit like ‘coaches awards’ or ‘most improved.’) 

Let me just add this in; if my kid comes home with a fucking coaches award or a most improved award clearly I am doing something wrong.  My children will be stellar athletes because I am, and there is no such thing as second place.  You’re either a winner or you’re a loser.  This is why children today have zero anything.  Cry babies and whiners.  Maybe if they lost once in a while they wouldn’t be such dick heads. 

5. Do you like the beach and/or traveling?

6. Smoker? Drinker?

7. Drugs?

7a.Yes- Bye bye

     No- next question

8.  What do you do for a living?  Do you like it or is it a filler job?

9.  Food- favorites… go.

10. Ideal lifestyle/home/kids

11. What are your goals? Long and short term?

12. What is your idea of marriage?

13. Whats are your thoughts on religion?

14.  How is your family relationship?

15. Who are your friends? How did you meet them and why are they your friends?

16. Do you like to entertain guests?

17. Favorite book?

17A. "I Hope they serve beer in hell"= get the fuck out of here     

      Something more appropriate= question 18

18. Do you curse?  I love to fucking curse.

19. Do you have weird younger siblings that ask you to write lists of potential questions for potential husbands?  Cause I do.  

20. How do you feel about polygamy?  Monogamy?

21. You’re not a hippy right?  I don't do hemp smelling, pot smoking, honk if you love Jesus and nature people.

22. How many more questions do you need?

23.  If I was to talk to an ex wife/girlfriend would she say good things or bad things?

24. And lastly... Are you willing to take STD tests today?

            I mean, I don’t know any better being that I am not married and I don’t plan on getting married like ever, but I thought that these were acceptable questions to ask.  Right?! 

            Then I asked her why she wanted to know these things and she answers me, “Don’t worry about it.  For future references!”

            “OMG, you little shit.  You are trying to set me up with your co-worker.”

            “Whatever.”

            Needless to say, I was right about her end game.  She is a tricky little shit. 

            I don’t know this person she is trying to hook me up with and I don’t know why she is even trying, to be honest.  I don’t like being hooked up for many reasons.  I don’t feel like naming these reasons but everyone knows being hooked up is probably going to blow up in someone’s face.  Most likely the one being introduced to the random man because that’s just the way the world turns.  

Vanilla Sex Cream

            Sorry for the lack of blogs, but unfortunately for me I have fallen into a stale routine.  Being that it is pouring buckets of snow since my move, I have yet to really move everything into the new place.  I feel like I'm paying to be a squatter, but whatever.  (Only I would fucking pay to be a squatter).  That and being that I am officially old, and have my own place, I don’t go out as much.  Which is good on 2 accounts.  1.  I am saving more money for rent/food/booze here at the Double Decker (new name for the place… I'll get into that in a few).  And 2.  My liver isn’t shriveling into a prune nearly as much. 

            Reg and I have dubbed the apartment building here the Double Decker, being that she is upstairs and I am downstairs and it’s just our two apartments.  Ergo, Double Decker.  It’s kinda awesome.  Kinda.  Kinda all the time awesome.  Obviously. 

            Not to mention, I have a frequent guest to the Lower Half of the Decker.  This whole thing with Mase has gotten to be a little more interesting than I thought it could have been.  He stays a few nights a week, and we stay up into the wee hours of the morning listening to music (cause I don’t have a TV, and probably wont get one because I am a cheap bitch and I don’t really watch it anyways), and chatting and making fun of people.  Which usually ends up in silent, stomach pain-type laughter.  We don’t want to wake up Reg and NITSI! 

            The other night I was sitting here alone, (which is interesting after living with someone, whether it be a boyfriend or a friend for the last 10 years) and I was playing this stupid fucking game called Candy Crush (thanks to Finny for that one) that I am obsessed with on a level that should be illegal, when I get a text from Mase.

            “What up”

            “Home.  Probably going to die.  You?”

            “At a friend house.  Whats wrong?”

            “Just haven’t felt well.  Kids at work are all sick.”

            “That sucks.”

            “Ugh, I know.”

            “If I get back at a decent hour do you want to hang out?”

            “If ya wanna.  I probably wont be good company.”

            “I'll call you if its not too late.  Hope you feel better.”

            So I am laying in bed now watching Johnny Depp movies and trying to find a comfortable position to lay in because my stomach was punching me from the inside.  It was like there was a creature in there trying to get out and it was killing me in the process.  So I am laying, and dying, and my phone goes off…

            “Hey, just asking… Do you want me to back off and not talk to you as much?  Be honest.”

            WOAH!  I don’t know how to interpret this one.  I mean its one of two things right?  Either he is getting sick of me and wants me to play it cool by saying, “nooooo!  Of course not!” so he can be the cool one in the end that says, ‘all right, well I need space!’ or he wants to know if I am sick of him, and he wants to learn the answer by asking me this because I would be honest.  This whole time I was wondering if I was the one bothering him, so of course I come back with this…

            “No, what makes you ask this?”

            I am a tricky fucker.  Now I have him where I want him.  I have reversed the tables on him!  Muahahaha.  Now he can either be honest in saying, “I think we hang out to much so I want to not do that,” or he can say, “ya know, I guess I dig ya, so its cool.  Just wondering.”  But instead his answer is this…

            “Just have to ask.  I don’t wanna make shit weird.”

            Don’t wanna make shit weird?!  Don’t wanna make shit weird.  Dude, by playing ring around the Rosie, your making shit weird.  Just let it be what it is!  Don’t ask me questions dude!  I don’t like playing games.  Fuck.  Snuggle.  Sleep.  Waken.  Bye.  That’s an ideal thing right?  I mean, I don’t want a relationship and I have come to that conclusion a while ago.  I don’t think I need one man in my life when I could have many men and opt for one to poke holes in condoms with.

            “Well, it’s not weird.”

            “I hope not.  I just want to be open and honest with shit and I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries.”

            I didn’t think we had any boundaries.  But I guess I was mistaken.  He is a boundary kind of guy with his fuck buddies.  Whatever.  I, apparently, don’t give enough of a shit to build boundary walls.

            “Your not.  I would tell you.”

            “So you wanna hang then?”

            I say, “Its up to you really.  I am boring company tonight.”

            “I would rather be bored with you than bored alone.”

            “Well come on over then.”

            Now, I don’t know about you guys… Why build these weird boundary walls then say he wants to be bored with me instead of being bored alone?  I don’t know.  Sometimes I think its too hard being me.  I mean, I am just that awesome.  Men are like putty in my artsy fartsy little hands.  I am a regular fucking sculptor. 

            He comes over and true to my word I am in bed and watching Johnny Depp and he comes in and goes to sleep next to me.  I’m OK with it.  At least I woke up next to someone on Valentines Day instead of being completely alone.  (Which was weird as well.  First one in 6 years I was alone for.  But I made up for it by eating red velvet cupcakes and dark chocolate cake with marble icing and silently crying into a big iced coffee.  Moving on).

            Whatever, I go to work and I come home.  I called my friend Slim to come over for a little bit because she is moving to Florida and I wont see her for a long time.  Were sitting around and bull shitting for a few hours and I was telling her about Mase.  She says, “OMG!  I love him!  Tell him to come over!”

            Mase comes over and were all sitting around drinking these shitty little Bud Lime margarita things.  Clearly a summer drink because drinking them in an apartment on a cold winter night isn’t as refreshing as drinking them while floating in a mini pool on a deck at a squatter house.  Just saying. 

            Slim leaves and Mase and I stay up drinking these little fucking things that cause instant heartburn and a sugar rush.  Then we go to bed.  I throw on a movie and I am half in the bag because of the margaritas and I lay down.  He lays down next to me and grabs me.  I’m not gonna lie… I LOVE being man handled.  Throw me around like a rag doll and I am a happy human being. 

            In my sugar high stupor I reach down into my goody drawer, which he wasn’t aware existed until last night, and I pulled out some vanilla flavored cream.  I am laughing at myself just reiterating this because it’s hysterical.  He is looking at me like I am a whack job and I am looking at him like, “I'm just gonna eat ya!” Needless to say, he liked the cream. 

            I then realized that I have done a complete 180 and I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about me.  I am completely comfortable being naked around him.  For Christ’s sake, I pulled out sex cream!  I am an awesome fucking individual.  I have body creams and lubricating lotions and things that go buzzzz in the night.  Not to mention, I am not afraid to play with them!  HA HA!  (Malicious laughter inserted here).

            I go to the bathroom when I am done with him, I had rubbed him down because it’s an edible lotion, and I wash myself a bit then I go back to bed.  I wake up in the morning to my hand under my head and a smell of vanilla in my nostrils.  ‘What the fuck did I do last night?’ was my first thought.

            Then I look over and see Mase kind of waking up, and through my contact-less eyeballs I can see my vanilla Lickity Stiff sitting on the nightstand.  Mentally I put my hands in my head and shook really hard.  I am a dirty whoremonger!

            He is going to leave and as is now his custom he gives me hugs and kisses and goes on his way.  Typically after doing something silly like pulling my pants down and giggling, or pinching my butt, or saying something snarky, he kisses me and leaves.  I like the banter in the morning.  It really starts the day out right. 

            (I just reread the blog before publishing it.  I realized something.  The title isn’t meant to be spooge or anything.  It’s the actual cream I used! HAHA!  Eh, I guess either idea works really!)

Super Bowl Christening Party

            Fortunately for me I was off on Super Bowl Sunday, so Reg decided she was having people over for the big game that no one, living in New York, really gives a shit about.  Giants fans only watch Super Bowl when their team isn’t in it for the commercials and the half time show.  Both of which I thought sucked donkey nuts.  But that’s just a personal opinion.  However, I think that the people I was with feel the same way about it as I did.  (Aside from the horse and the Sandy Hook children singing).  And Beyonce; just stop, you’re a sweaty mongrel.

            Mase had bought a ticket to go to OPH for the game.  I guess they were doing something there for X amount of dollars where you could get food and drinks.  Whatever.  I was expecting him to be beyond intoxicated. 

            So come the end of the game, you know after the power outage and the bullshit, I decide to say fuck it.  I am going to see what he’s doing after the game because I enjoy sex and I would like to have sex after drinking 2 large Twisted Tea Donkey Dicks.  So I shoot him a text…

            “Hey, whatcha doing after the Super Bowl?”

            “Not sure you?  I might have to leave my truck here.”

            “Oh no!  I didn’t have plans but I am home at the moment watching the game.”

            “Not too banged up, but it’s a bad night to drive.”

            “Yes it is.”

            “If you wanna hang out let me know.”

            “I would like to but it’s a matter of getting around.”

            “I can control my drinking.”  (LOL).

            “So you are driving tonight then?”

            “Sure.”

            “Wanna come over?”

            “Up to you.”

            “Yea, come if you wanna.”

            “OK.  I am going to have one more drink then I will call you when I leave.”

            “OK.”

            About an hour and a half later, and more tall boy Twisted Teas, and one power outage, and buffalo chicken dip, and pulled pork sandwiches, I get another text from him that says…

            “Still want me to come over?”

            “Yes, yes I do.”

            “Should I get anything from the gas station?”

            “I am fresh out of drinks, so get whatever you want.”

            “OK.  See you soon.”

            So now Reg and I are downstairs in my apartment talking and hanging out because the other guests have left and were listening to old school music from the 90’s.  It was awesome.  I love old music.  “Old music”.  Bahaha. 

            Next thing I know the door is being knocked on.  It’s Mase.  He comes in with more Twisted Teas.  Ughhhh…  Were all chatting for a while and Reg decides to go upstairs and go to bed.  So now it’s just me and him.  We were sitting around looking up hysterical youtube videos and telling stories and drinking… a lot.  I don’t mind getting a good buzz on but after about 7 Twisteds I am DYING to go to sleep.

            We chat for a while and I was telling him about how I wanted to get more shit from my parents’ house for my apartment because my living room resembles the Squatter House and I have a table 2 chairs for said table, and 3 unnecessary bar stools currently taking up residency in my living room.  Ergo I have no pictures or things on display. 

            “Do you want me to help you move things?” he asks me.

            “I would love for you to help me move things…” then I took his face in my hands and kissed him on the lips.  “Thank you.”

            Then I went to the bathroom.  Twisted’s just run through me so I have to pee every 14 minutes.  I come back out into the living room and we chat some more. 

“I’m tired… wanna go to bed?”

            “Yup.”

            So I go into my room and strip all my clothes off because I have zero cares at this point concerning hairy legs and or patchy hair due to missed spots from attempting to shave, or nudity in general.  Well, I had a tank top and underwear on, so it wasn’t quite nudity.  I am also comfortable enough around him to be not quite nude, so it was cool. 

            Ready for this one?

            I throw on a DVD…

            BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER!  The fucking original!!  Love that shit!  And we go to bed.

            He’s not making any moves on me and I am wondering why.  I lie there for a while and contemplate my next move.  What should I do?  What should I do?  Fuck it!  I take his face and kiss him square on the mouth.  I haven’t had sex in that bed in almost 3 years.  (It was mine and the Ex’s bed, but we got a new one when we moved to Brooklyn so this one was in storage for a while).  Needless to say, my bed started out on one side of the room and wound up on another side.  It also explains why my phone wasn’t charging all night, because the charger was ripped from the wall in a frantic, bed slamming into it, kind of way.  So anyways…

            My phone goes off in the morning and in a frenzy I shoot up and reach over him, to grab it because I think it’s my alarm.  I am laying on him fiddling with my phone because now we have been sleeping for maybe 4 hours.  I slide the button over thinking it’s the alarm and I am turning it off but, alas, tis not my alarm.  It’s my boss…

             "(Name) Hello!  Just wondering if you would wanna come in for some over time this morning?”

            “OMG.  What time?”

            “Hmm… it’s 7:30 now… sooo?  9?”

            Fuck that gives me one more hour to sleep. 

            “Sure.”

            “You’re awesome, thanks!”

            “No problem.”

            Then he interjects, “you should have said no.”

            As I hang up and roll back to the other side of the bed I tell him that I am greedy and that I love money.  He laughs at me and says, “Still should have said no.”

            That morning was the ONLY time he kissed me in the morning… EVER.  We lay there for another 40 minutes or so and I have to start moving my ass.  I get up to get in the shower… I am still ass naked… and not kinda naked.  I am ass fucking naked.  I don’t typically sleep naked because it queers me out for some reason.  He doesn’t typically sleep naked either.  But there we were naked as jay birds (lol). 

            I get up and get in the shower and it was one of those showers where you kind of just let the water hit your face and you’re holding yourself up with one arm on the wall type showers.  I thought I was dying.  I need to sleep more.  I get out, in my towel I start my post-shower thing; lotion, deodorants, bla bla bla…

            He is up and trying to get his shit together.  I offered to make him something to eat.  I offered him snacks, water, juice.  All to which he said no.  (Thank god because I don’t DO mornings… like… ever).  Then he gives me a hug.  I am still in my towel and my hair is wet and curling into a fucking mess down my back.  Then he takes my cheeks and gives me a kiss good bye. 

            Interesting…

            What think you?  I find it to be a little odd.  Is it me or is my fuck buddy enjoying my company far too much in a non-sexual way?  I mean, I don’t know.  Let's be serious for a second though; I am fucking awesome.  Clearly.  I am hysterical.  (Also obvious).  And I am adorable!  (Too much???)  HAHAHAH.  I am laughing writing this because though I am funny, I do not find myself to be adorable. 

            I need some kind of feedback here!  I have a problem!  I can always figure out other peoples shit, but when it comes to my own shit, I cannot make heads or tails of it!  Let me know how you feel about this because I would do it for you!  THANKS!

Moved Again!

            Don’t worry guys the non-sex thing and the North Carolina thing wont happen again!  (Well at least not for now.  Maybe when I'm 30 and still alone).  But anyways, I have moved again!  But this time its about 3 miles down the road from my ‘older roommates house’ (AKA my parents).  I call them my older roommates because they were good roommates.  Well, half of them, and most of the time.  Whatever.

            I actually have moved into the apartment underneath Reg and Nitsi, so I am excited about it!  Not to mention, as stated in the previous blog, I am judged about mostly everything that I do in my life so being on my own is going to be awesome.  I can now bring anyone home!  I can come home whenever I want!  Did I mention that I could sleep with anyone I want?  In my own bed?!  I can also smoke whenever I want and I can be one classy single lady.  Fuck yes. 

            The only thing I am bitter bout is not having all the shit I have bought over the years I was with the Ex.  It is scattered throughout Brooklyn I am sure.  Fucking jerk off.  Not only does he have my favorite knife, but he has my fucking wine rack!  Well, lets not name all the things that were left down there because it would cover an entire blog and I would be infuriated by the end of it!  So, moving on!

            I started moving my things in the day I signed the lease.  I thought I had the day off of work, but being that the children hate me, they all decide to act out, in which case I am called in for back up and now I have some OT hours under my belt.  Ergo, I don’t have time to move my happy ass into the new apartment.  Not only that, but I had to work a double the next day (6AM to 10PM) and I sure as shit didn’t have time to move then.  Not to mention it was supposed to snow!  Basically I figured I was screwed and I was wasting the first 3 days of my rent because I could not physically get in the house. 

            Fortunately for me, I am awesome.  I signed the lease, I went to work, I got out of work, I went to the rents’ house, and then I packed and started moving!  I moved my kitchen and some of my living room things before the snow.  (Which was flurrying for maybe 37 seconds).  Then of course I had to christen the place!

            So I had Reg and Rae over for some wine! 

            (You dirty birds, what did you think I meant?!)

            (You aren’t THAT far off…. In time, grasshoppers, in time).

            Anywho, were sitting around my kitchen table and we all smoke a butt.  I don’t know man, but I love smoking inside.  I don’t really like the way I smell or my things smells but its winter and I am OK with it!  So were sitting there and were bull shitting and were talking about Nitsi and Mase and Danger and who should text me but Mase at that very moment??

            “Whats up?  You doing anything tonight?”

            “Hanging out with my new neighbor/BFF, Nitsi.  And I have to work at 6AM.”

            “OK.”

            “What are you doing?”

            “I’m off tonight.  No power at work.”

            “Oh very nice.  You should come by!”

            “Come by where?”

            “My new apartment.  At Regs and Nitsi’s”

            “Let me know.”

            “Come by Boo Bear. HAHA.”

            “When?”

            “Now, duh.”

            “Maaayyyybbeee.  You at your place or theirs?”

            “All in the same really.  Just signed the lease today.”

            “I know.” He says.

            “Did I tell you?  Girls downstairs, Nitsi upstairs.”

            “Well let me think about it then.”

            “Think fast!”

            “Be over in a few.”

            HAHAHAHA it’s too easy!  I am fucking awesome!  So yea, he shows up and goes upstairs to talk to Nitsi for a little bit then he comes back down and he is talking with us about some things.  He is sitting in one of my high stools with the girls and honestly he looked a little uncomfortable.  I think he was put off by how forward Rae is. She was mimicking him and being weird, as usually.  But he eventually started laughing about it. 

            I have yet to talk to him since then (but its been less than 24 hours) so I am really not that concerned about it.  But I think once I get settled and get the rest of my shit in there, like a bed, and a couch and ya know, shit, he could turn into a frequent guest.  I’ll keep you all posted on my shenanigans.  

Holy Flying Dr. Pepper, Batman!

            As is typical I go out on Wednesday nights.  Wednesday happens to be Mase’s day off so when I get out of work late night I typically get a call asking what I am doing and bla bla bla. 

            “Nothing, just waking out of work.  Whatcha doing?”

            “I’m at OPH, come by.”

            “OK.  See you in a few then.”

            I get there and he is drinking and has been drinking for a while and here I come all sober and boring.  I fear this though; people are going to find out about us boffing because we are in the same places together, we sit together, we talk all night to each other, and then we leave together.  Is that inconspicuous?!  I submit that it is not!  But whatever.  I mean, shit happens right?  Do you think I care what people think about me or say?  Cause I can tell you right now that I don’t give a dead moose’s last shit.  (I fucking love that quote by the way).

            We talk all night, people are coming and going and we are sitting in the corner by the fun game machine playing games and shit and it’s around 2AM when he says, “listen, I don’t think I can drive out of here tonight.  Could you bring me to my car in the morning?  I mean, that is, if you are staying over (wink wink).”

            He just knows me so well! How did he know I was sleeping over?!  Weird!

            “Yea I can do that (wink wink).”

            So we get in the car to go home and he walks in the opposite direction of my vehicle.  So being that I am a good fucking person I drive to where he is and ask him what he is fucking doing!?

            “Getting my things, shit!”

            “Well, get your ass in the car!  It’s cold, damnit!”

            “Mind your tongue devil woman!”

            This is how a typical conversation goes.  I think its hysterical because I can say whatever I want and he doesn’t take offense to it; in fact he laughs it off because what else is he going to do?  He thinks I am an absurd human.  And guess what?  I think he might be right!  So were driving home and I see that my gas light is now on.  And I think to myself, ‘shit, now I have to get gas in the morning!’

            Did it occur to me that when I got the said gas for my vehicle that Mase would be in the car and we would be seen at the ass crack of dawn together driving around because I had to be up the next morning?  Nope, that didn’t occur to me.  So now I have Mase in the car and were driving down the road the next morning after a night of sweaty, long lasting, hot, (did I say sweaty?) sex.  But that’s neither here nor there…

            As were driving, I then realize that, ‘oh shit, my mom is working today!  And she is there!’

            “Ummm… So, listen, Mase.  My mom is working down the road and she judges everything I do sooooo…”

            “Are you telling me right now that you want me to put my seat back and pretend like I am not here?”

            “I mean, would you do that?”

            “Seriously?”

            “I mean, I guess it’s not that big of a deal.”

            I pull into the gas station before OPH and get some gas then as I am pulling out I realize that there is a semi coming down the road.  Brilliant idea!  I shall drive parallel to this large truck and hopefully she wont look into the road and see me.  However, even if she looks she will see the big truck and not my vehicle!  Christ, sometimes it hurts to be that smart!  So I yank out and I am driving along side of the truck.

            “SHIT!  Why is he slowing down!? 

            “He’s not slowing down!  Remain calm!”

            “Sir!  Sir!  I am going to need you to keep pace, sir!”

            “Are you fucking kidding me!?” he asks and starts laughing again.

            “SHIT!  She is outside!  Look!  There she is!”

            “Calm down!”

            “Sir!  Please move your large polluting ass!”

            “Oh my god.”

            Fortunately, we get there OK and my mom didn’t play witness to my sins or anything, so it all wound up being fine.  I pull into a spot near him and we sit there for a second.  I am flushed and nervous and skating because of the close call there, and he kind of just looks at me.  I see that he is looking at me funny.  I don’t know if it was because he wanted to give me kisses or if he thought I was a fucking whack job for yelling at inanimate objects.  So what better thing to do than to avoid awkward morning situations?  I throw my door open and jump out of the car!

            Again, he is looking at me.  He gets out of the car and is still just looking like he wants something.

            “What are you looking at Boo?”

            “Don’t fucking call me that.”

            “Well, what do you want?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Wanna, like, hug it out or something?”

            “NOPE!”

            “OK.  Well then have a lovely day.  Bye.”

            I am walking away.  I am feeling all sassy and shit, in the same outfit I wore the night before looking like a two-bit, shweaty balls, mess.  I am trying to walk seductively.  (Which never looks good on anyone).  And then I get hit in the calf with something.  What the fuck was that!?  I turn around and he is standing on the other side of the truck, pointing and laughing at me.  He had thrown a Dr.Pepper at me!  (Granted it was empty, but whatever).  He waves like a little gay man and I pick up the can and throw it back.  He ducks and I missed.  Obviously.  Damn him!

            Long story short.  It was an awesome morning.  I like laughing that early.  It kind of gets the day going in a direction that is acceptable.  Nothing is worse than having a good night (in bed… or outside of bed, but whatever) and waking up happy, ready to start the day, than for someone to shit on you.  So yay for me for having an all around fantastic fucking day.