Single and Sober
I went to my friend’s engagement dinner/congratulatory party/death sentence on Friday and there wasn’t a bar. We toasted the soon to be bride and groom with sparkling apple cider. Boo.
Yes folks it’s gotten to the point in my life where if someone tells me their pregnant I can say, “congratulations!” instead of, “Oh sh*t, what are you going to do?” And when someone announces an engagement I have to show up and pretend to care. Well, deep down I do care. I’m really happy for my friend, but engagement parties and baby showers are not really my forte. I prefer something a little more erotic and captivating, with a bar.
There is nothing like a Friday night, mingling sober with other singles who ask you stupid questions like, “when are you getting married?” Well, you have to have something called a man to get married to first, genius.
Then I started to panic. Why am I single? Should I go to the Humane Society to start picking out my 20 cats now? (Naw, f*ck that, I hate cats). Could it be that I’m greedy klutz who has no idea what she wants? Eek! My disastrous dating past started flashing through my mind…
I remember this one time, when I used to date this one guy, (and this one time, at band camp) I was over at his house waiting for him to get off of work. On the coffee table there was a giant glass bowl of M&Ms. Instead of reaching and grabbing just a few M&Ms, my greedy ass went and grabbed the whole bowl. The glass crushed in my hand. (Stupid cheap bowl, grrr). M&Ms flew everywhere and my hand started squirting blood.
I called 911, but they wouldn’t give me any medical advice over the phone and it wasn’t serious enough to call an ambulance. So with blood running down my arm, I quickly picked up all the M&Ms and glass. When he came home about ten minutes later he had to help me get the circulation back into my hand, which had turned a nice shade of blue.
Another time I was dating this other guy (not at band camp) and right before he came over, fatty ate a whole package of red licorice. When he got there we got into this discussion of things we liked and disliked in the opposite sex. One of his vices was when girls threw up, it was a turn off to him. Needless to say, not too soon after that conversation, all that red licorice kicked in and I started projectile vomiting (uncontrollably) a funky red liquid all over him.
Oops my bad. :(
The first time I had sex with my ex, I had stuffed my bra with socks. Usually when I (would *ahem*) stuff my bra I’d do the quick pull out when nobody’s looking. Unfortunately that night I wasn’t quick enough and when he felt me up, he found my thick ass socks. (On the plus side he did end up wearing them to work the next day).
Dating sucks. So do engagement parties without alcohol. I don’t see what the big deal is about being single. I’m enjoying this thing called life people!
Reality TV Makes Me Feel So Intellectual
I haven’t had cable in my house for two years. Before that, my roommate and I used to have bootleg cable. One of our neighbor’s friends had a crush on me, who also happened to work for Comcast. He got to take me out for dinner and I got free cable. (I guess I got the better hand of that deal).
So anyway, we had cable for a year, until the 86-year-old woman who lived downstairs from us died. Just kidding. She moved out and our new neighbors, that we have now, moved in. When Comcast came to hook up their cable, they sure did shut ours off.
Now we don’t even get NBC, ABC, nada. Boo.
However, not having cable has been surprisingly good for my self-esteem. Not necessarily how I view myself physically, but my intellect level has gone way up. I don’t understand words like F@%&!@ or A@$!!**& or S*!!#@%&@H&6$*$^! anymore.
I caught a little of that Rock of Love show on Vh1 the other day and, I swear, (ha) every other word out of these people’s mouths was the F word. I watched Snoop’s show, Dancing with the Stars, The Bachelor, what else? I don’t know, but I guess I’m not missing much. I hate to say it, but with all the reality TV shows out there now, we are basically watching ourselves, and it’s not pretty.
Today I overheard some people who kept saying “Day 26, Day 26”. I’m like what happens on Day 26? What is Day 26???! Are we all going to die? Is Anna Nicole Smith going to come back from the dead and make another Trim Spa commercial? Is rent due early?
They’re like, “uh it’s the group from Making the Band 4, duh.”
Whoa! My bad. I guess I have to wait until they drop their album to get in on that conversation.