Super Bowl barf

Yesterday on my sojourn to school, I passed not one but TWO separate piles of barf.  In different neighborhoods (leading me to deduce that if it was the same perpetrator, they barfed, rode the bus to campus, and then barfed again); but my detective skills honed from many episodes of CSI: Miami (the best CSI) lead me to believe it was two different barfers.  I blame the barfing on the Seahawks going to the Super Bowl, and having a team that can actually play the sport they get paid to play is something so astounding for the denizens of Seattle that the only way they could express their joy was to throw up. 

I only expect the fervor to increase in the coming weeks, and so I assure you I will keep an eye out for more piles of Super Bowl barf.  (Spoiler alert: there will be a huge pile of Super Bowl barf during the half time show and his name is Bruno Mars).

This one's for you, pal.

A text exchange between me and my bestie/BFF/BFF4EVA:

Me: What are you going to wear tonight????

BFF: I'm going to kill you.

Me: Well I will kill you if we are wearing the same thing.

BFF: Im not worried about that.

Me: Maybe you should be.

BFF: Oh are you planning on wearing yoga pants and an oversize t-shirt?

Me: Now I am!

BFF: I hate you.

Scene. 

Happy new year, everyone. 

Ruh roh.

So remember a few blog posts back where I wrote a really asshole strongly worded open letter to Comcast?  The gist of it was that some jerk lizard was parking the company van on my block for his booty calls and taking up precious parking space.  This prompted a reply to my blog from someone at Comcast who trolls blogs for mentions of the EVIL MONOPOLISTIC BILIOUS SOUL SUCKING CORPORATION THAT IS COMCAST.  My intention with that blog post was to vent, not to get anyone fired, so I did not reply.  Also, it turns out that I was, cough cough, wrong.  Home slice from Comcast actually lives on my block, so I guess he can park on this street.  Although I still call bullshit on putting the cones around the van.  Flash forward to yesterday morning when I was leaving for work and I saw the driver of the Comcast van.  And he's pretty hot. And he smiled at me, so ostensibly he's a nice person and we're going to married and then I'm going to have to tell him about the blog post and then we'll probably get separated but then maybe we'll get back together and have adorable little babies who come out of my good time genetically programmed to set up a wireless router.

So do you think I've mentioned Comcast enough times to get them to give me free ESPN, ESPN 2, Fox Sports 1, and Root Sports for the remainder of football season?

Calling bullshit.

I have two things on my mind: one, whoever broke into my apartment and stole my deoderant can go to hell.  (And by 'hell', I mean that godawful shopping center, University Village.  I hope this blog comes up when people google "university village."  University Village shopping center provides umbrellas to its shoppers so that they're precious highlighted hair won't get wet when they go from Restoration Hardware to Lulu Lemon to Starbucks to Hanna Anderson to Patagonia to FroYo.)

ANYWAY...WHO HAS MY FREAKING DEODERANT?

Second thing on my mind: stupid fucking Movember.  From what I gather from my sources (my sources are mostly Twitter  and what I overhear on the bus), there is a month where men don't shave and then they are celebrated and adored for it and also this has something to do with their prostate.  As someone whose entire sex is subjected to the belittling "support" for breast cancer awareness via athletes wearing neon pink and teenagers wearing 'I heart boobies' bracelets, I object. Strongly. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised: our culture and mainstream media sanctioning and praising men's lack of attention to hygiene and/or grooming norms in order to support a deadly cancer while a FAR MORE WIDESPREAD cancer that affects woman is supported by efforts that are overtly linked to femininity and/or sexuality is unfortunately not shocking.  Please let me know when I get to stop shaving something and it will be both socially acceptable and a philanthropic act of benevolence.

Shit, I just got political up in my own blog. 

(This post brought to you by graduate school.  And caffeine. And my feminist beliefs for which I will not apologize.)

Zach Braff eat your heart out.

(NB: If you haven't seen the film Garden State starring an earnest Zach Braff and a weirdly child-like Natalie Portman, the gist of this post will be entirely lost on you).

I have recently had occasion to coin a new dating phrase/phenomenon:

To be Garden Stated. 

As in, "Oh man, I totally got Garden Stated on my last date with so-and-so."

Let me explain: in the movie Garden State, Zach Braff's character returns home because his mother has died and/or because he has not confronted any of the issues of his youth that continue to plague him as a hypochondriac/neurotic adult.  While home he re-connects with old friends and family and meets the winsome Natalie Portman, for whom he instantly falls head over heels in love with.  They have a series of surreal adventures and interactions that are both charming and heartbreaking.

Dear readers, imagine my surprise when on a second date with So-and-So, I casually ask how his week was.  He says he's had better, and that it was kind of a hard week, because his father passed away.  THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENED.  It turns out that there exists ABSOLUTELY NO set of guidelines for this type of date; the date where you don't actually know someone, but you're kind of into them, and then they share something so personal and heartbreaking that you are instantly connected to them in a way that is hard to blog about flippantly.  So while I am going about the usual process of vetting a guy, I am now also considering that this guy's father passed away less than a week ago. 

Date one with this guy was a motorcycle ride, a walk along the ocean, dinner and music and ping pong (read: winning).

Date two was preparing food for a barbecue at his father's house where family and friends would gather to celebrate and be with one another in their sadness. 

You can't make this shit up.

No, YOUR the best :)

Hi friends.  It's been awhile, I know.  What can I say?  I've just had so much free time on my hands, and I've been so relaxed and not stressed out that I couldn't bring myself to blog about how spectacular my life is.  Oh, wait, I got that backwards.  However, I have recently entered the shitstorm/maelstrom/impending disaster that is dating.  Some of it online, and some of it the result of what happens when I blithely give my number to strangers. 

I have been on a few dates this week, and there is a lot to be said about each. Here's a teaser:  on the first I got the ole "bait and switch" wherein the photos of said person were clearly from another era in their life/taken from a sufficient distance to entirely misrepresent the person's appearance.  I also was the unwitting audience for what I can only assume was a dress rehearsal of a recitation of this man's medical history.  Not joking.  On the second, I went out with someone who unabashedly answered and made phone calls without any explanation or apology.  Call me old fashioned, and I'll call you a dick.   On the third, there was a lot of nervous and enthusiastic rambling accompanied by spitting.  He later admitted to drinking a Red Bull prior to the date.  Sweet.

Additionally, I think you can say a lot about a date judging by the follow-up texts.

Dude #3:
I can't stop smiling :) your pretty great.

Me:
Thank you.  I had a good time.

Dude #3:
:)

_____________________________________________

Dude #2:
Miss u already.

Me:
--------- (no response and filing paperwork for restraining order)

How my parents chose my name

Yesterday while attempting to learn how to spell "wilin' out" as in "all of my white friends and I are wilin' out!!" (said no one ever)-I was alerted to the hilarity that is typing your own name into Urban Dictionary.  Srsly.  Try it.  Here are some excerpts found when I typed in my name:

"Usually a some what shy girl who you find out is really funny once you get to know her. People can't get mad at ______ since you can't take her seriously. She likes to have a good time with her friends and get's along with everyone. She's extremely artsy. She finds a way to like everything and is overall always happy." Uh, yeah.  ALWAYS happy.  Riiiiight.

"An ______ is something very clean, polite, and well kept. Distancing herslef from anything dirty or anal, _______s tend to remain superior. They also obtain the tastest bags of food that are frequently stolen by inferior surrounding beasts." I think my old neighbors wrote this one while they were taking a break from their weekly RPG session.

 

"Don't ever overlook and ______, theyre beautiful, hot, funny, crazyyyy lol and you will deff have a hella time with an ______. And they loveee guys who flirt flirt flirt, none of tht serious shittt." Duhhhh.

And my personal favorite:

"A crack whore whose really cool"