I Couldn't Make This Shit Up If I Tried

I'll admit it. Sometimes I bring on certain circumstances. I am probably more at fault for some of the crazy shit that happens to me than I want to acknowledge, realize, or admit. But there are just sometimes when I swear, I couldn't make it up if I tried.

So, let's just say I made a new friend - a friend met through a friend, if you will. I kind of knew that there probably weren't going to be sparks or anything after the first conversation revealed a certain propensity to say my name, repeatedly. Now, I don't know about you, but it makes me nervous when someone states and restates and then restates my name. It's sort of like a dirty salesman (no offense) who can't help but make you feel cheap because of their constant desire to sell themself (themselve?) to you. Anyway, I decided what the heck. My expectations were low, and I thought - why not, I have nothing to lose. Girls, let me tell you. Sometimes, you just should stay at home. The second inclanation I had that this meeting would be less than the whirlwind Joseph Fiennes type romance I envision for myself, was in the time (9:00 p.m.) and choice of establishments for our encounter. I gave him the choice of three. He chose the one I would prefer to go to with a few good friends for a Sunday afternoon football game beerfest. So me, being the good drunk girl I am, said sure. After all, I'm agreeable. Why not, nothing to lose, right?

Now, I'll give the dude props - he did bring me a little gift - one of thoughtfulness for my love of the OHIO STATE BUCKEYES. That was nice. He reiterated that I am truly a thing of beauty and desire. He was not a bad guy. Ok, I made the beauty thing up. But, we did have lots to talk about. Lots more in common. Clue numero trois this was going to go nowhere: phone rings - it's the ex-wife. He takes the call. T-A-C-K-Y. Tacky, tacky, tacky. I think at that point, whatever dude. Nice guy - probably would hang out with you but no further interest in making you a fixed part of this girls life. He seemed to want to pound the beers. Me being the lush I am, says rock and roll, Axl. Show me what you've got. We do shots of Jaeger.

To make the rest of this otherwise completely long and rambling story short...well, let's just say I've added a new "must" to the ongoing list of "must not haves." Let's just say, that I am, as anyone who knows me would tell you, the worst of the worst kinds of drunk. I am the one without the know when to say when switch. The one who suddenly passes out or who sneaks off. The one who goes from fine to forget it in seconds. I will admit. I am a drunk asshole. Cute but an asshole. BUT, there is one thing that I don't do. One thing that frankly, I would say could be the clencher of all clenchers for even the worst drunk like myself. Let alone a man. A man on a first date.

I don't, well, how do I put it nicely. Well, I believe I've firmly established my questionable judgement regarding my tolerance. And well, I would expect that a thirty year old male would be able to drink me under the table...Not puke those cheese fries after a few beers and a couple small shots of Jaeger.

Oh ya. He did it. He puked.

I told you, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.


*******************************************************************************

So on Saturday, NB-C and I went to my newest obsession in the LV - Culver's. Let's just say a big freakin' YUM-O on the cheddar butterburger and crinkle fries. Not to mention fabulous rootbeer and strawberry sundae. Is it really so wrong to be in love with a hamburger? So it's the one bad meal I have a week. Sue me. I would have taken a picture if I could have. I also would have murdered the annoying, undisciplined 2-year old asshole that was rolling all over the floor in the table next to us. I am not kidding when I, the one who LOVE LOVE LOVES the babies and kids, said outloud to this FloorWalleringAsshole "I hate you" in my nicest nasty voice, while he laid on that dirty floor looking directly at me. I know it's not really his fault. I blame the idiot parents who never ONCE told the kid to sit his unruly butt in the chair. I'm not sure but I'm pretty certain my mother would have taken me outside and busted my hind end if I would have acted like that. Now you understand why I can't watch Supernanny. Those parents should be shot, flogged, or beaten for rasing their children like that.

*******************************************************************************

The Belgian will be here in one month and 3-days. So excited! Oh wait, that means I have one month and three more days to freak out about this little conference that I'm planning and that is otherwise consuming my life and taking me away from you my little blogosphere readers. I'll try to keep up with new and refreshing adventures of my profoundly un-exciting life, I promise. Please don't leave me or lose interest in this little thing we have. I love you, really. I just need a promotion more. Remember, my finances are for shit.

Kisses.

*******************************************************************************

In case you were wondering how the story ends...The answer is no. No, I will not be going out with the puker again.

Ever.