Amazon Awesome-ness.

There's a popular new past time AZ helped me discover and that is the sport of reading Amazon reviews. I don't see how this has gone unearthed for me for so long as the comments section of Amazon is about as good as Speidi's performance on "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here."

Take the Zubaz Pants for example. Described as, "Elastic Waistband with Drawcord for Wide Range Fit" and "Loose Fitting Pant Legs with Sharply Tapered Ankle Cuffs," I knew I had a potential gold mine of reviews on my hands. As I scrolled down the page, the first one to catch my eye was from Alan E. Schmidt. Alan writes...

"I was searching for clothes that speak to me.. These pants not only spoke to me, they entered my soul and transformed me. When I get out of my bitchin 78 camaro wearing these bad boys, there's no question who the boss man is..."

The first questions that popped into my head are, "Who are these people? And how can I make them my best friends?"

Another great piece of clothing featured on Amazon is the Three Wolf Moon Shirt ( FYI - this shirt also would make a smashing combination with the Zubaz Pants). B. Govern tickled my fancy the most with his "real life" experience wearing the mythical Three Wolf Moon Shirt saying, "I arrived at Wal-mart, mounted my courtesy-scooter (walking is such a drag!) sitting side saddle so that my wolves would show. While I was browsing tube socks, I could hear aroused asthmatic breathing behind me."

Pure gold.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

The never ending move.

So I've been trying to move for well over a week now. It has been quite the process and somehow it is still not over.

It started with my mom, FSD and sister coming down to take the majority of my stuff over to the new condo I'm living in and back to house in the 'burbs since where I am going to be living is furnished and I need alot less stuff. If you knew my family, you would know that anytime there are a number of us trying to complete a task, it is filled with mishaps and injuries so I was more than apprehensive to begin this foray into my move. Shockingly, it went off pretty well and I didn't have anything broken (not like my move out of my apartment sophomore year when my mom and my ex-boyfriend managed to break my UW snowglobe I had received for my high school graduation, needless to say I had to "excuse myself" to shed a few tears on my porch, still haven't had the heart to replace it).

My next adventure in the great move was I had to rent a U-Haul for all of my furniture because my Dad decided to "re-possess" my car like some sort of cracked out Toyota collections agent (fyi - my dad sucks) and since I was suddenly unexpectedly sans car, I got to spend a hot $160 on an oversized U-Haul that I barely filled. Luckily, my FSD jumped to the rescue and helped me load up the thing and I brought it back to my mom's house where I'm storing all my un-used furniture for the summer.

My final adventure into the wonderful land of moving is supposed to happen today. I'm moving into my new digs off of Michigan Ave. I'm excited to see and enjoy a new part of the city. Streeterville is so different than Lincoln Park that it will be cool to live in an area that feels more like the city.

We'll see how it all goes, but I'll be happy when I have it all behind me. Moving is such a pain in the ass.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

Public transportation telephone use.

You know what is one of my biggest pet peeves? Using your cell phone on public transportation.

This week I am commuting between my house in the 'burbs and the city because my mom is in Ireland visiting my brother. Since my mom treats my little sister like she's a 7 year old with a wooden stump as a leg and a propensity to set things on fire (when she's really an 18 year old who scores 34's on her ACT and her IQ is higher than every member of our immediate family combined), I have to make the miserable trek back and forth from the 'burbs to the city, shlepping myself after work on the Metra back to my house.

I've forgotten how much I hate commuting, but what I forgot even more is my hatred of people who think that's it's is socially appropriate to use their cell phones on public transportation. I don't give a shit if you are going to pick up little Timmy from soccer practice so your wife doesn't have to anymore. I could give a rat's ass that your meeting ran over, so you didn't catch your "normal train" and you're going to be late for dinner.

A ride on the Metra shouldn't equal my ears being forced to listen to short vignettes about suburbanites painfully boring lives steeped in dinner scheduling, train arrival times and the myriad of practices/recitals/school functions they are trying to sort out.

I give working parents tons of credit. I couldn't imagine having screaming children to go home to when you have the pressures of work to deal with all day which is exactly why I don't want to hear about it. Suburbanites lives stress me out. I don't want to live like that and I DEFINITELY don't want to hear about it when I am trying to unwind and catch up on celeb gossip on my TMZ iPhone app. I prefer living in fantasy land bliss post the 5pm work end time, your harsh reality of responsibility and children frankly pisses me off, so please leave it behind and don't bring it to my train ride home.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

The band is breaking up.

So I haven't been blogging because these past couple of weeks have been absolutely insane. I went to Europe for two weeks, AZ came to stay with me for a week and I am moving out of my apartment with my room mates who I have lived with foreverrrr.

It's pretty scary/sad that we are all going our seperate ways. Just due to circumstances, it doesn't make sense for us to all move into the same apartment together again and I can't help but feel like, "the band is breaking up."

I have lived with M for the 4-5 years and with S for the past 2 so imagining not having them to come home to is really bizarre. I am moving into my best friend's mom's condo because her mom is moving to Denver for the summer. It's pretty exciting because I get to live there rent free and it's right on Michigan Avenue, so it will be cool to live in the city part of Chicago instead of one of the neighborhoods.

It will definitely be a switch though. Going from always having someone to come home to, have a glass of wine and talk about your day to only having yourself is going to be a major change for me. I'm not sure that I'm really going to like it because I like having people around much more than I like being on my own. I think it is definitely going to teach me to get out there and do more random things which is actually great in terms of timing because Chicago summer is right around the bend.

The official move in date is the 15th so we will see how it goes, wish me luck!

No one's getting out alive,
heels

LOLLA 2009!

I am SO SO SO SO excited for Lollapalooza this year because the line-up is AMAZINGggg. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Lollapalooza it's a three day concert in Grant Park, full of amazing artists where you can lie in the grass and enjoy the Chicago skyline while listening to some of the best music around.

I've gone almost every single year that it's been in Chicago (with the exception of the year after I graduated college and I was in South America) and it's by far one of my favorite parts of Chicago summers.

Last year I went with my sister and we saw some bomb acts like John Butler Trio, Tally Hall, Iron & Wine, Amadou & Mariam, G. Love & Special Sauce, Girl Talk, Flosstradamus, Gnarls Barkley and Kanye West.

This was my sis and I in front of the Tally Hall stage which I'm pretty sure was her favorite act that year. We got really close and were in the shade which isn't a common combo in a giant, open space like Grant Park.

I on the other hand, was obsessed with Girl Talk last year. His performance was so incredibly amazing it wasn't even funny. Gregg Gillis was literally so close to me I could touch him. He crowd surfed right over my sister and I.

Then he landed in the middle of the crowd and spun from this booth they had set up. My sister and I were mere inches from him, it was insane.

This year seems EVEN better than last year. According to this blog, and his source states that ten percent of the artists he lists may be incorrect, but the potential line-up has acts like:

• The Killers
• Kings of Leon
• OK Go
• Regina Spektor
• Atmosphere
• Ben Harper
• Franz Ferdinad
• Ra Ra Riot
• Silverspun Pickups
• TheDecembrists
• TV on the Radio
• Vampire Weekend
• Yeah Yeah Yeahs

3 days passes go on sale March 31, and I know I'll be the first to swoop mine, I CAN'T WAIT.

Also, this weekend I'm going to see another one of my favorite bands, Bloc Party at the Aragon Ballroom. I've never seen them live, but I've heard they're great and I'm amped to see them. Concerts are such a great way to hang out over the weekend without the usual bump and grind of blacked out frat boys that you have to beat off with a stick at Lincoln Park bars. This weekend, I can rage in the comfort of two of my good friends and quality tunes.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

Moving forward, high school is dead.

So I suck at posting lately, but in my defense I've had so much going on at work that I've barely had time to come up for air. Moving forward, (this is one of those classic lines you fine integrated into your 24 year old lexicon that you couldn't have paid your 18 year old mouth to say) I am going to try to be better at posting and not let other things affect the amount of time I dedicate to said blog.

That being said, and I'm going to hell if she ever finds this blog, but last night I went to dinner with one of my high school friends. This friend I grabbed food with, was one of my best friends from high school that I literally used to be inseparable from and I've known since I was in 8th grade. Now whether you have a 60 year old perspective while reading this blog or a 16 year old, everyone knows that one of the basic tenets of being a human is that people change. That is the best way to explain the dinner dynamic I had to endure last night.

My friend from high school, let's call her Red, has been been mad at me for the past year or so because I "haven't dedicated enough of my time to our friendship." She's one of those classic needy friends, everyone has them, that takes every little move you make as a personal accost to her humanity and can't really understand that you are busy living your life and drinking beer in your basement as a 16 year old doesn't hold any sort of precedent in your life anymore.

Regardless, she took the time to send me a really sweet card for my birthday and in the card was like, "I just want to wish you a happy birthday and I would love to take you out to dinner or drinks for your birthday sometime, let me know when you are available." As nice as the gesture was, she didn't come to my birthday party so I kinda thought it was just one of those reaching out sort of things people do without any follow through.

But sure enough, come Monday, I sign onto gchat and she IMs me saying, "Hey have you gotten my card yet, would love to take you to dinner if you can?" Since she was really trying to reach out I felt bad pulling away anymore than I already had so I agreed to go to dinner last night.

Even though this was supposed to be my "birthday dinner," she insisted on me picking the place and telling me how poor she was. Due to these disclosures, I tried to pick a local, cheap spot that I knew had specials on Tuesdays.

She called me to let me know that she had gotten to dinner 45 minutes early and since the bar was more in my neighborhood I offered to have her come to my house while I finished getting ready. She refused and little did I know until I showed up at the bar that instead of coming to my house a mere four blocks away, she sat in her car.

When we went into the restaurant, there was a half hour wait. While we waited it was butt-clench central. It couldn't be more apparent that we had just drifted apart, through no fault of either one of us, we just weren't the same people anymore. There was nothing left for us to connect upon and we had grown and changed from the 16 year olds, excited to have our licenses, to 24 year olds who had nothing to talk about.

We spent the next hour and a half at dinner, re-hashing high school drama that I could care less about before going our separate ways. Finally, when the bill came, after she had ordered the majority of the check, she asked if we wanted to split it. In my head, I'm thinking, okay you've managed to harass me into a dinner that I didn't want to attend and into paying for food that I didn't want to consume with you, but please, can we split the bill! Either way, I ended up accepting my debit card fate and throwing it down.

Moving forward, it just goes to show you that no matter how many tears you've spilled in sweaty garages over emo talks while guzzling Mike's Hard Lemonades as a teen, there comes a day when there's just nothing left to talk about.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

The Snuggie Revolution.

So because I work in PR, I get these emails from editors requesting information about all sorts of subjects asking for images, spokespeople, experts, information, etc. that they want us PR folk to provide. The other day an editor from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette sent a request asking for information on the Snuggie. He was planning on writing an Op-Ed about whether the success of the Snuggie had any correlation with the recession (Did anyone tell you yet that we are in a recession? If not you heard it here, first!). His thoughts were that because people are trying to cut back on expenses during these "faltering economic times" they were choosing to invest in things like the Snuggie to stay warm. He wanted us to provide him with any statistics or experts who could speak to his hypothesis.

Now unless you're blacked out like Amy Winehouse and have been living on a remote Caribbean island to heal your heroin scars, I would hope by now that you are aware of the Snuggie. It esentially looks like Lord Voldemort's cloak, except instead of it housing a a nose-less demon, it can keep you, Bobby, Billy Sue and Ginger Ann warm for only $19.99. It also comes in three stylish colors like Burgandy, Royal Blue and Sage Green so if you didn't think you were hideous enough swathed in polyester cotton, you can look like a giant period stain, cookie monster or a booger, simply smashing. It's the most absurd thing I have ever seen since it is essentially a bath robe put on backwards. It reminds me of the kids from my high school who used to wear their backpacks on their front instead of their back to give off the look that they are pregnant, socially inept or both. It made me want to punch them in the face, I feel the same way about people who wear the Snuggie.

And now, coming to a Chicago-land area bar near you is the Snuggie Bar Crawl which is the only thing that could actually break my disdain for the Snuggie.

Alcohol -- Check
Costumes -- Check
Looking hideous in costumes -- Check
Blacking out while looking hideous in costumes -- Check and Double Check

Count me in!

No one's getting out alive,
heels

I'm having a gchat affair.

Flirting on gchat is just awkward. I find myself twitterpating after every single gchat I send AZ because I'm concerned that my sarcasm won't come through, my line won't be as funny in text as it was in my head, he won't understand that what I'm saying is a joke/isn't a joke. In a world where so much of our lives are lived through text, do our true messages actually come through or are they at the mercy of how they are interpreted in the texto/gchato-sphere?

It was while pondering these thoughts that I realized I am engaged in a full, fledged gchat affair. Not from my end what so ever, but from this guy, let's call him Tokyo, who has a girlfriend and gchats me like it's going out of style. I met this guy a few months ago when he had his current girlfriend. They were having some troubles and after the 3rd or 4th night of hanging out he tried to kiss me. Knowing he has a girlfriend I quickly dodged away from him and ran inside.

Since that awkward.com moment he has refused to go more than one day without talking to me through gchat. To make things even stranger, he doesn't live in Chicago and has tossed around the idea of coming to visit me to which I quickly replied with a resounding, "Ummm totes no way."

Now that I have a boyfriend, it has almost upped the antee of his gchirting. It's like everything AZ does for me, Tokyo has to explain how he not only did it for his girlfriend, but he did it 10x better. "AZ sent you a dozen roses on Valentine's Day, well I sent my girlfriend TWO dozen roses." "AZ is taking you on a trip, well I'm taking my girlfriend around the world."

I mean come on buddy?! I don't get it, what are you trying to prove? Do you want to wooo me through gchat? Do you escape your pathetic relationship by living vicariously through our gchat banter?

I mean, I get it, you're miserable, you don't like your girlfriend, but you're too co-dependent to dump her so you mindlessly flirt with anything that will pay attention to you because you have no other outlet to channel your un-satisfaction, but seriously find someone else to transfer your unhappiness onto.

Therefore, to remedy this little gchat bee buzzing in my ear, I realized that is why another miracle of modern technology exists: the gchat block.

So Tokyo, I'm sorry to say, but you've just been blizocked.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

I heart Valentine's Day.

I don't care how mushy or lame it is, I heart Valentine's Day. I know that it's a Hallmark holiday that was basically constructed to help increase flower and candy sales during a month that is known as "the most depressing month of the year" in which the thermostat usually reads -10, but you know what, I love it.

I think that it is important to pause for a second and reflect on those that you love and I don't think that Valentine's Day needs to be all about your significant other, but to flats' point it should be about those who are in your life that you care about. Which is exactly why flats got a shout out drunk dial at midnight courtesy of Jack Daniels.

Usually, I don't have a Valentine so I'm typically all about that girl power, chicks before dicks sorta mantra, but this year I actually did have one. I am starting to see someone who lives in Arizona, we'll call him AZ for purposes of this blog. He used to live in Chicago so this wasn't some sort of MeetAnInmate.com type of situation. He actually is best friends with my cousin from high school I've known him for years.

Anywhoooo, now that I'm done justifying why in God's name I decided to partake in a long distace relationship, AZ actually won a free trip to Playa del Carmen, Mexico earlier this month. And when I say free I mean FREE, para libre, totes everything including, airfare, food, drinks (and not Coca-Cola people, any type of whiskey my liver desires), spa, golf, activities, it's absurd. Shit like this doesn't happen to me and only because it's 11 days away, and him and I talk about it everyday, do I actually believe that it's happening. Part of me kept thinking that whatever golden horseshoe enema I had received in my sleep would lose its charm because the whole thing seems way too good to be true.

Ultimately, though, it ended up that he does have to pay for part of the trip because of taxes or something like that, but he said instead of splitting it, this trip would just be my Valentine's Day present. Therefore on Valentine's Day because AZ, well, lives in AZ, and because of the aforementioned Mexico gift deal I really wasn't expecting anything. Even though I sound like a ridiculous teen, I really do love Valentine's Day and I wanted at least a card or something but I knew nothing was coming my way.

I started the morning by waking up to a text from my FSD wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day, which although incredibly sweet and thoughtful, was secretly hoping that the text would be from AZ. The night before S had been taken to a wonderful dinner at this awesome restaurant called Perennial with her boyfriend and shortly after waking up to FSD's text M got a dozen, beautiful red roses from her Grecian New York lover, so I knew that the romantic in me was going to be a little down since I couldn't even see AZ on the actual day. I decided to go get my hair done to take my mind off of things and by the time I was done with my hair I realized it was five o'clock and not one word out of AZ.

I don't think that I have unreasonably high expectations, and I think that hearing from your boyfriend on Valentine's Day should be kinda a given but I felt myself get more and more bummed as I didn't see my phone buzz with his name. Finally, at six I see my phone light up and its him. At that point I'm so annoyed I don't even want to answer. I was complaining to S about the situation just seconds before and she convinced me to pick up.

Immediately after I did, I regretted it because I knew that I was going to lose my temper as I heard his upbeat greeting as if there wasn't anything wrong with calling your long distance girlfriend at 6pm for the first time on Valentine's Day. Instead, I quickly told him I had to call him back for fear that I would rip him a new one and decided to re-group with S about how to handle it.

S thought I should just call him back and tell him straight up, yo, calling your gf as the sun sets is not kosher so I did just that. He took it in stride but his apology was a tad weak, knowing that I was growing more annoyed by the moment I tried to get off the phone. As I was saying my good byes, the door bell rang.

S ran to go and get it and was greeted by a small, Asian man who was grinning ear to ear. He shoved a giant vase of flowers in her hand and said "He love you." S quickly ripped out the card and realized the He was AZ and the flowers were for me. I couldn't believe that he actually sent them and that I had given him an earful of shit in my pathetic anti-Valentine's Day self loathing. Pretty comical to say the least.

The moral of the story is that Valentine's Day is not only about your significant other, whether you love or hate the holiday. If I wouldn't have been such a spazztastic prom queen about not getting flowers I probably would have enjoyed the day much more. Which is why I decided a night cap of drunk dials to besties and Jack on the rocks was a perfect way to kick cupid's ass for trying to bring a sista down.

No one's getting out alive,
heels

Does anyone else find this mildly disturbing?

Salma's Breast Feeding Bonanza

I understand the whole concept of one world and helping a starving child, but has Salma never heard of a breast pump? I think this woman just wanted to breast feed.

I mean, come on? You are a public persona and you are flapping your nip around like Janet Jackson's nipplegate.

Bill-do the Weirdo: The Final Farewell

Well fellow bloggers, we have reached a point where we must say farewell to our dear friend "Bill-do the Weirdo." As many of you must have assumed, after last post, BW was on his way out the door after his spazztastic email confessing his love (or whatever the F that was) to me. After circulating the email around my office, since material that good can't be kept to oneself, I really couldn't figure out the best way to respond to him. I was torn because part of me did genuinely feel bad for this kid, but the other part of me was legitimately freaked out by him. So I enlisted the help of S&S, one of my fellow colleagues, who helped me write the most excellent response that I pasted below...

Hi Bill,

Thanks for the email. I appreciate the kind words, but I struggle with what to say as I really don't want to lead you in the wrong direction. While Friday night was quite the experience, I don't see this relationship or friendship (whatever you make of it) going any further.

Please don't think this had anything to do with me just wanting to hang out with my friends on Friday (I live with them and see them daily), it is more a function of who I am and who you are. I just don't see us as a fit. Sorry if this is blunt, but I don't want this to carry on any further.

I wish you the best.
Heels

So I guess to all you guys out there who read this blog there are a few lessons to walk away from this with:

1) Berating females with multiple mediums of communication without any sort of reciprocation tyyyypically indicates that, "She's just not that into you."
2) Disclosing personal family emails does not endear women to you, it creeps them out and makes them go out to Home Depot and buy extra locks to install on their windows.
3) Writing a persuasive style email to a love interest enlisting the "reasons" you two should be together based off the ONE conversation you two have had is UNACCEPTABLE. period.

As I close the Bill-do the Weirdo chapter on my life, I'm starting to think that maybe I should start weeding out some of these guys and start focusing on the ones I actually like? Ahhh, I don't care what flats says, 23 or not, quarter life crises are hard to figure out! I guess only time will tell, maybe I have another 15 Bill-do the Weirdos headed my way?! On the bright side, I'll have new material for the next 3 years, on the down side my butt might become perma-clenched in an effort to stomach dates like these.

No one's getting out alive,

heels

Bill-do the Weirdo.

So in my last post I talked about the "promising prospect" I was going on a first date with on Friday and I don't know if my guy-dar is off or wintertime in Chicago brings the freaks out of their igloos, but this was one for the books, let me tell you. After experiences like Friday night, most people would want to hang up their dating hats, buy a cat named Sprinkles, take up knitting and call it a day. I, on the other hand, not only love these awkward.com dates, but they provide me with enough fabulous, butt-clenching material for weeks to come. So blogosphere, let me introduce you to the nightmare known as "Bill-do the Weirdo."

I met Bill-do last Sunday at Stanley's when my roomies and I were having a Sunday Funday. My room mates were at the bar grabbing drinks and I was hanging back, awkwardly people watching because I didn't really feel like chatting up the bartender, when said "first date nightmare" entered my life.

He seemed nice enough and confidently strode up to me and struck up a conversation, so I thought to myself, I'm willing to give this guy 5 minutes of my time. It ended up that we had a bunch of stuff in common, both Irish Catholic, both have two siblings, both went abroad to Spain, you get the picture, and I actually started to tune in and give this guy a legitimate chance. We ended up chatting for a while and as I was about to call it a night, I found myself hoping he would ask for my number. As we headed towards the door, he blundered through his amateur attempt to score my digits. To prevent myself from further suffering from his symphony of stutters, I quickly spouted off my number and hopped in a cab, success, or so I thought.

Knowing that hindsight is 20/20, there were definitely signs that this guy was going to be a head case, but since I am trying to "get back out there" and give dating a real chance, I thought that I would just roll with it and hope for the best. (life lesson #1,093,657: Never just "roll with it," This guy was a grade A freakshow and I should have listened to my gut)

Since I would like to prevent others from suffering through such disasterdom, I thought I could bullet out some precursors that hinted towards the verbal diarrhea Bill-tack he eventually sprung on me...

Bill-do the Weirdo Warning Signs:

• After I gave him my number, he texted me not :37 seconds later, "You're awesome -- billy." You're awesome? Did I meet Ted from Hey Dude by a mistake? Get real brotha' man.
• The next day he texted me, "Doing some reading before class, but all I can do is think about you." Reet, reet, reet, PSYCHO! Like are you for reals? You met me a hot 8 hours ago and all you can do is think of me? You need to get a hobby, or a friend, or both.
• Apparently said advice was not taken, he neither got a friend nor hobby, because he had plenty of time to begin badgering me with emails. Apparently, texting wasn't enough but we had to bring our relationship into Outlook. AND these emails were not just any kind of email mind you, they were emails riddled with :) AND this ;) and more exclamations than my eyes ever wanted to see. The subject of his very first email was ":)." I mean, come on, I couldn't make this shit up. I couldn't believe it, I felt like god was playing a cruel trick on me because we all know how I feel about textual smiley faces and that feeling is not good.

Upon reflection, I should have totally bailed. But even with all of these warning signs I forged ahead and planned to show up on Friday night. He picked a good restaurant, Hub 51, so I was excited for that. I realized now that no amount of food was worth the boredom of Bill-do.

First off, he ordered Bud in a can and me a Miller Light bottle. I'm not a snob, but we are at a nice restaurant in a city, we aren't going muddin' down on Blue Hole Road, order a beer, that comes in a glass, like a grown ass man.

He then proceeded to talk about himself for the entirety of the dinner, where he grew up, what his first job was, the names of his brothers and sisters, where he went to college, why he went to college there, I don't even think the guy knows my last name. I was literally counting the minutes till the date ended. When I thought I couldn't take the montage of stories anymore, I excused myself for the bathroom and sent S and M an emergency text that I needed some rescuing.

Once I returned to the table, we started trying to figure out what we were going to do for the rest of the night. I tried to ditch him like a bad habit, but he was impossible to shake. At that point, I knew I needed an intervention. So I told him that my roomies were at Zed 451 and we could go and meet them there. I knew that once I put him within S and M's talons, I would be able to ditch this dud and have a good night with my friends.

I didn't realize how easy this feat was going to be accomplished. We were at Zed for a mere 15 minutes when he pulls me aside and tells me that he "has to talk to me." I thought to myself, oh this should be good, what's wrong with him now? Does he want to tell me another enrapturing story about his upbringing?

He went on to tell me for a solid 5 minutes, how I wasn't paying enough attention to him, that he came here to spend time with me, I was only talking to my room mates, that was unfair and inconsiderate, blah, blah, blah. Newsflash BUDDY -- I don' t like you! I'm not talking to you because you are like talking to robot on crack who just keeps talking and talking and doesn't stop. Sorry but I think my ears are actually bleeding at this point, please leave me alone.

I didn't say any of this, because I didn't have the chance. After he got done lecturing me, he stormed out. I couldn't believe my eyes, it was perfect! I had unloaded this Bill-do thing and I didn't have to do anything!

I went back to our table and entertained my girlfriends with what just happened and after a few minutes of solid laughter, we decided to change scenes and headed over to English for a fabulous rest of the night.

I woke the next day with not one, not two, but three texts from Bill-do explaining how he is so sorry that he "unraveled" last night, that he is so "pissed at himself" and could we "talk?" Talk? Talk! Are you f-ing kidding me?! No I don't want to talk, you are Bill-do the weirdo to me now, there's nothing to talk about.

I didn't respond to his texts because there really wasn't anything I had to say to him. That was a mistake because then he upped the antee and started calling and leaving voicemails. I finally texted him back saying no worries about last night, just think we are on different pages, have a good rest of the weekend sort of thing. Instead of being like, wow, she was cool about me being a creepo, he sends back a spazztastic text of "Oh fine then. Let me know if I can ever be on your page. All the best." UGH. gross.

Well Bill-do the weirdo, thanks for the lovely sea bass covered in a delicious horseradish broth, it was scrumptious, really. Needless to say, you won't be hearing from me again.

No one's getting out alive,

heels