You Just Had to Pick a Crazy One.

About three and a half years ago I met a Mr. S. He was older than me, but that’s nothing new with the men I like.

We became really good friends, and both were equally attracted to each other. He was this long-haired hippy, with the most beautiful eyes ever. swoon. 

However, my age was kind of a problem. He was in his late twenties, and though I was adult I had the unfortunate ‘teen’ still at the end of my age. But we still spent a lot of time together. Some nights when I was bored at home, he would ride his bike over to my house. Which was an impressive 4 miles uphill mind you. We would smoke cigarettes and just talk. For hours. Like the sun would come up and we wouldn’t even realize it. It was fucking awesome.

Then one magical alcohol infused night we slept together. It kind of freaked us both out. I didn’t know what this would do to our friendship, and he was still hung up on my age… So, sadly, I lost my best friend for a while. But a little while later we patched things up, and decided we actually liked sleeping together… and being friends.

I soon realized that I was pretty much head over heels for this man.

Everything was going pretty awesome. Then my dad asked me to move to texas, because he wanted me to figure my life out. So, being as my father is my absolute favorite person in the world, I agreed. Me and Mr.S were going pretty good, up until i took a trip to San Francisco. Because when I came back we were done. Like, he told me we couldn’t even be friends again.

Anywhoozers, he began dating this girl E, and she absolutely despised me… Like ive never felt such hatred from a person ive never met before. Apparently she had liked him for a while, but she slept with his friend. yadah yadah yadah I don’t give a fuck.

But me and him barely spoke before I left. Broke my fucking heart.

So I moved. And I didn’t hear from him in over a year then out of the blue he send me a message on Facebook. apologizing for not talking to me and ignoring me. I try to forgive him, but it didn’t really work out. I got mad and told him he sucked (but with a lit more cuss words).

But she found out about it. So she decided to send me this message, from her account, telling me how i was just this big joke and how i need to get over him. And im just fucking laughing. Like, firstly, im across the country. Second, she sounds like she needs to see a councilor. Like, that message was probably the meanest thing ive ever heard. Ever. (which is saying something since in my childhood i had no friends because i would hiss at people like a cat).

So i respond. Its pretty much a really descriptive message about how she can kindly, and gently, go fuck herself.

Later i found out she ended up going to jail because she showed up at his job and flipped a bitch switch about him talking to me.

But the whole point of this, is in about 6 months im moving back to that town, and they are still together (I have no fucking clue why. I think her vagina is magical or something). But im worried im gonna see them out one night, and she’s going to either:

a. punch me in the face.


b. Throw acid in my eyes.

Come on Mr.S, Why’d you have to choose a crazy one?


So You’re Not Dead Afterall

A couple days ago i put up a post about the guy im seeing, and how he is just a flaky little bastard.

Anywhoozers, I finally heard from him this morning. Praise the almighty he is alive. No horrible accident has befallen him, he lives on another day.

He had been working a lot apparently- Good for him. Because any working man can’t carve out an hour for sex. No wonder married people don’t sleep together, if this is any indication.

He promised to come over this afternoon, bringing my highly expensive jacket with him. Happy, i did all the feminine preparations. Shaving, washing my hair, all that nonsense i wouldn’t deal with if i was celibate (which is never going to happen).

Also, my sleeping schedule is totally backwards. I go to bed around 3pm and wake up between 9pm and midnight. Just call me a vampire (like, seriously, please call me a vampire).

So around 3pm my eyes are getting heavy, and i hadn’t heard another word about when he would be showing up. So i fell asleep, and woke up around 11:30. There were no texts, so i figured he just wasn’t going to show.

I go to the local bar for some water, since im trying to drop a few El-Bees (pounds). I stay about 10 minutes before shooting my head seems more enjoyable than making small chat with the other 5 patrons.

I go to see my friend who works at the gas station near both Mr.M and I’s houses.

As im leaving, im rounding the block to turn to go down the road, and who other than Mr.M himself comes riding his bike.

I stop him and just give him a stare that says, ‘Go fuck yourself.’

He offers up the explanation that it was his friends birthday so he wasn’t able to come by today, then he asks me to wait there and goes back to his house to get the jacket. Mind you its like 36 degrees outside, and im fucking freezing.

But i wait, and he returns with my jacket, and he make our ‘see ya laters’ and im struck with the thought that if we stopped seeing each other i wouldn’t completely mind. Though our intimate relations are completely amazing and out of this world, im not sure this annoyance is worth it.

I demand a certain amount of respect from those i am intimate with, and though typically he shows that to me, i don’t think i can admire his complete disregard for manners and punctuality.

So i wonder how this story will end.

My Boobs Keep Calling the Police

About a week and a half ago i got a call while i was out at a bar with some friends and i got a call from some random number. It was the police. Now mind you i am heavily intoxicated.

“Uh, hello?”

“Yes mam, this is the police. We received a call from someone at this number. Is everything okay?”

“Oh. Yea. Im fine. Sorry!”

They then took my information and i was definitely beyond confused.

Then tonight, there’s a voice coming from my boob! “HELLO! HELLO MAM?”

And again the same process.

Its like my boobs think im in danger or something. This time the police showed up just to make sure i was okay.

Now it’s not like i dont like the cops, but they definitely kinda freak me out.

I just wish my boobs could trust me more. I mean calling the police on me? I need to have a talk with the girls.

Are You There Watermelon Pucker? It’s Me Birdii

If you have yet to read my ‘About’ section, i am a bartender, with a deep appreciation of cocktails and shots.

I recently moved to a very small town in the middle of nowhere. There are three bars in this town open until two am, and only two of those bars are open on a regular basis. I moved here from a town in Texas that specialized in ‘Starfucker’ shots. Holy Moses they are delicious.

But no bar in this town has the key ingredient. Watermelon Pucker… Sure, they have midori, but it’s just not the same.It;s so upsetting.

So if any of you lovelies out there are over 21 and would like to taste this Nectar of the Gods here you go. It’s super simple and amazing. Please thank me later.


1.5 oz Crown Royal

1.5 oz Watermelon Pucker

Shake in a tumbler with ice

Strain into short glass

Fill with redbull

Like i said, super simple.

I just really wish i had one…

Bruised Legs, and a Messed Up Back

So im going to go on about something a little more serious. Over a year and a half ago i met C. We worked together at a hotel back in Texas. I was the bartender, and he was the front office manager. The first time i saw him i thought he was just drop dead gorgeous. He was aloof, and seemed unattainable.

Then one night i ran into him while i was out drinking with some friends, and unbeknownst to me, he was hitting on me. I was still in shock that he was even talking to me.

A week later we started seeing each other. It went on for another three or so months, before i moved to Tennessee. We kept in contact for about two months, then we got in some huge fight and didn’t speak to each other for three months. When we did start talking to again, he asked me to move back to Texas to live with him. I was so overjoyed and my heart grew so much, i didn’t know i could be so happy.

Then he changed his mind.

Then he changed it back I wasn’t ready to believe him, so i asked for sometime to think about it. And four months later i decided it was a good idea. We had been talking everyday. We would text from the moment he woke up to the second i fell asleep. We skyped twice a week, and called each other two times a day. I was so in love. I always had been.

Then he told me he wanted to marry me. We even picked out our first sons name. Connor.

I was just through the moon.

Finally the day came. I got on the plane and when i arrived, his back was to me, and i just jumped. We were laughing and smiling. It was the best day of my life. We kissed for the first time in almost nine months.

The drive back to our house was a little over an hour, and the second we were through the door, our clothes were on the ground.

Everything was going great. I got a job my second day back in town as head bartender at a fancy pants restaurant. We were spending our free time together. Making food for each other… being domestic and happy.

Then after about a week, i felt him pulling away. It was the weirdest feeling. It’s not like i can give you an exact moment where i can be like ‘this is when it all fell apart.’

After about a twelve-hour shift at work, he came to pick me up and we went back home. He asked to talk to me, and i was so confused.

“You know all that love you have for me?” he asked. I just smiled and nodded. “Well i don’t have that for you.”

My world fell apart.

I began crying. And he went on to explain he would pay for me to go back to Tennessee if i wanted. But i couldnt go back. It hadn’t even been two weeks!

I asked him if he still loved his ex (who i later found out he was dating and took her virginity when we were first together). HE nodded, so i reeled back and slapped him as hard as i could. You do not ask me to fly across the country to be with you when you have feelings for someone else.

Anyways, about a week later im still at his house because i havent found a new apartment yet. He comes home and comes into the bedroom, which is weird because he was staying in the living room. He climbs into the bed and starts to fucking cry. cry. I don’t know what to do. I still loved him.

He then begged me for another chance. Telling me he was just confused. So much was just happening.

So we decided to start over.

I moved out to an apartment he helped me find about five blocks away, and we went out together at night, and he would come over to my place for sexy time.

After about two weeks of that, we were at my place and he told me he loved me and how he still wants to marry me, and wants me to be the mother of his children. It was everything i needed to hear.

Then it all fell apart two days later.

I ran into him while i was out with some friends and he was out with his. I ran up to him to give him a hug, and his friend gave me the weirdest look (i found out later he hadn’t told them we were back together). He smiled awkwardly and then left. Shrugging it off because i was drunk, i figured he was going to Houston like he usually did.

I left that bar and went down to a different one by the beach. He was there. I laughed and asked him how his night was going He just walked away.

And every time i would try to talk to him, he just walked away.

At the end of the night he sent me a text breaking up with me because i was being to pushy.

Overcome with anger and confusion, i asked my friend to drop me off at his house, and she said she would wait downstairs for me.

Im about to knock on the door, but i hear the familiar sound of Call of Duty on the TV, so i turn the door handle and open the door.

i step in and ask if we can talk about things.

And this is when things get real fucking shitty.

He freaks out, tells me to leave, so being stubborn, i say no and sit on the couch and asks him to explain what the fuck happens. He grabs my arm, and throws me down on the ground.

He had done MMA for a while and decided to practice those moves on me. Such as choke holds, dragging me, and something that just really fucked up my back for a while.

My friend heard what was apparently my body being thrown around and came the rescue.

We got out of there, and i was just in fucking shock.

But alas, it was not over. Because i was an idiot, he begged forgiveness, and i gave it to him. Many more times. He never touched me again like that, but he definitely fucked with my head emotionally. It was the worst four, that’s right four, months of my life.

And after i moved away, to where i am now, we talked. He said he freaked out because i ‘loved him to much.’ the fuck?

But anyways, what i guess the whole point of this is, what that douche bag did to me, said to me, and made me feel, was terrible. But im still willing to love again. I know every single one of us has the potential to do bad things, but i hope one day i find the one who chooses not to.

So thats the end of my mildly depressing story of good ole Mr.C.

Tastes Like Fancy Water, Drinks Like Cheap Vodka

Im gunna get up here and say, that i have a super fucking clean driving record. No parking tickets, no speeding tickets, just no tickets of any kind. Ive have only been pulled over once in my life, when i was 16, and even then i managed my way out of some pretty hefty fines… And that was a great one indeed.

So i was babysitting this adorable little monster all day, and her parents came home around like 11 pm, clearly pretty drunk. They pay me (120$) then give me an extra 20 for gas. i was fucking stoked. Being 16 with 140$, no bills, and a kick ass fake ID.

I drive to my friend’s house a couple blocks away and change into this white dress. And when i say white i really mean see-through, but with like a white sheen on it. Then its time for these hooker heels i got myself a few weeks before… I look in the mirror and its no fucking wonder i pass as 22, i mean my boobs are fucking huge.

Anyways, im driving downtown, and im trying to find a parking space and i take a right turn on a completely dead street without stopping fully… Fucking red, blue, and white lights go off behind me.

I pull over in a pretty decent spot, and the cop parks behind me I turn off my car, and try to hide the cigarettes in my car.

I roll my window down when he gets near the car, “Hey there miss, have you been drinking tonight?” Not yet.

“No sir.”

“License and registration please.”

I fumble through the glove compartment for the registration, then i hand him my Permit… See i didn’t exactly have a licence… i had a Florida permit, that honestly had no real use in the state of California (you also need a sober adult in the car with you, but pshh whatever).

He looks at the permit, and raises an eye to me.. you know the look, like ‘are you fucking kidding me?’

He asks why i’m out driving so i think fast and tell him my mother is hammered and im on my way to go pick her up because she didn’t have cab fare, and im just worried about her.

His face softens and he tells me not to let this happen again, and he just saved my mom a world of hassle because hes not going to tow the car or give me a ticket. Fucking thank God. He lets me park there and i was so fucking nervous to get out of the car… i means i look like a prostitute, and he knows im 16.

I step out of the car, lock it, and say thank you to him… He looks me up and down and kind of just shakes his head like, “Im not fucking dealing with this.” and gets into his car and drives away.

I walk to the bar like 4 blocks away, and the bouncer puts me in the VIP line and i get in in about 5 minutes much to the Chagrin of the other bitches. I start dancing when i notice something.

My mom.

And she’s kissing some Man.

Nope- some very Butch lesbian.

I go over to say hi, and the lady is super sweet, she hands me her drink and tells me to watch it while she pees. I do as she asks, in a slight daze because just what the fuck is going on?

My mom is completely hammered, so at least i was kind of telling the cop the truth. The lady comes back and takes her drink, she asks if i want to try a sip. Obviously i do.

I told her i thought it was pretty good, so she got me one. The hangover i had the next day let me know that just because something tastes like Fancy Water, doesn’t mean it wont hit you like Cheap Vodka.

Buying drugs wasn’t easy when i was 13

So I made the careful decision when i was the ripe old age of 13, to buy some weed. I was so stoked. I had smoked some before, but this time it would be MINE. I decided on 30$ worth… i felt like it wasn’t too much, but that it would be enough. I got into contact with a friend in my class who i knew sold some. Me and my friend S were supposed to meet them down at the beach, but then we ended up meeting him at Borders Books. We give him the money, and he goes to get it…

Okay, looking back, there were so many problems with this whole deal… From start to finish. I should have just saved my money and stolen some from my mom…

Anyways he comes back.. Why he didn’t have it with him in the first place is just beyond me… like the cops are gunna go up to this rich little white boy and ask if he has any weed… whatever…

He hands us the ‘package’ and walks away. My friend and I are so excited, we can barely contain ourselves… We hide it in my bag, and walk down to the beach. I had taken some rolling papers from my moms room earlier in the day… so it was on. 

We found a nice little spot in the sand that hid us from people, and opened the package!

If i could type the sound of disappointment i would… maybe waah wah waaaaah.

The amount of weed in that package would fit on a dime and still have room for more. It was literally nothing. not even enough for a joint! NOT ENOUGH FOR ANYTHING.

I spent thirty goddamned dollars on pretty much what you would be in a pipe after 10 people had already hit it. Ridiculous.

I didn’t know what to do… it’s not like you can file a customer complaint with you local junior high drug dealers office. Not like i was going to go home crying to my mom about the worst weed deal in the history of the planet earth.

The only shred of joy that came from this experience is when the guy who sold me the stuff was sent to rehab by his super strict Jewish parents. I laughed so hard, and thats when i knew karma was just the best.

Even to this day, the thought of what that little shit gave me pisses me off.

I don’t smoke weed anymore… i don’t like not feeling… and the insane munchies and the paranoia suck as well.

Moral of this story: CHECK YO SHIT BEFORE YOU BUY IT… or just dont buy it.. Drugs are bad… M’KAY