I guess i can’t have guy friends

So i recently started working as a server at this local diner here in town. Its pretty much a gathering place for Mormons and old people. I get tipped shit and my boss (who is Mormon) has the weirdest fucking rules. But the day that i started, so did W. Me and him became super fast friends, primarily by talking shit to each other. It’s the greatest friendship ever. Then i found myself becoming attracted to him. Like i hate to say ‘crush’ but holy shit do i have a crush on this man. He’s my best friend, and he also has a girlfriend. So im here trying hold myself back, because i dream about this guy all the time.

Im also friends, now, with his girlfriend, and im soooo not about the be that bitch to get in the way of that. I think im better than that.

Theeen, on the other hand, my old boyfriend from way back when, and i, have been talking, and i have so much feeling for this man, we’ve been through a lot, and he’s always been there for me. He wants to get back together when i move back to Cali, which would be AWESOME, but theres a problem.

I know i want to get married, and have kids one day. But he doesn’t. Its just not his thing. And im sitting here debating whether its worth it or not. To go into a relationship that you know wont get to the place you want it, but still be in a good place. Or try to find someone else who wants the same things. But i do really care about him. Gah, its all just so confusing. I wish someone would just tell me what the fuck to do.

I hate being an adult.

I need a drink.

So it Wasn’t Cocaine it Was Salt.

When i was 14 years old i moved to Florida to live with my Aunt and Uncle. Things just weren’t very good at my house with my mother, because shes nuts, so my aunt took me in.

We are inherently very different people, with our basic beliefs on life and love and just some pretty basic other shit.

I tried to be perfect for them. I enrolled in a super competitive program, maintained super high grades, took college courses at the same time, and didn’t really have a social life.

I woke up at 5am every morning to work out, went to school at 7:30, then went to school until 4pm, came home and did homework all night.

I as just trying to be perfect for them. I am not a religious person. And if i were to stand next to a religion, it would not be one based a Monotheistic value. So pretty much not Christian, Jewish, or Islam. They themselves, were very dedicated Catholics. They didn’t understand me, or approve of me. They would try to make me go to Church for holidays, always with a fight from me. Because in my opinion, it just an injustice to those in the Church who are there for their beliefs, and im just there because i was forced.

Towards the end of my Sophomore year i started to just not care as much about making them happy, and more about making me happy. I started rebelling, secretly, a little more.

I gave myself a tattoo of a heart on my ankle. I started smoking cigarettes. I went to a party. I had started seeing this older gentleman from my college, no sex obviously, but some serious emotions involved.

What really got me kicked out of the house was when i went to get my bellybutton pierced.

So i got it done, and i loved it. They give you a little bag of salt to mix in with water to clean the hole. Apparently my aunt went through my bag, and found the empty plastic bag. I mean, i understand, it totally looks like a coke bag. But i was 15… seriously?

Anyways, the next day she makes me take a pee test. It come back positive for Methadone… Which is a synthetic heroin.

I was freaking out… It was later to be revealed as a false positive. But it didn’t stop her from sending me back home.

Like come on bitch. I called you mom for over a year, and trusted you. And she couldn’t even trust me. Whatever. Like if i say that bag was filled with salt, take my fucking word for it.

So the second i got back to California, i decided to start living for me, not anyone else.

I was smoking a shit ton of weed, drinking, having sex and actually did start to do coke. But i got my shit together, and now im pretty fucking awesome.

Just Because I Bought a Pregnancy Test Doesn’t Mean You Can Judge Me, Good Sir.

So, first some background. I have an IUD- and for those not familiar with Female Birth control… its a birth control. Boom. Simple shit.

It effects everyone differently. For me, it means my ‘monthly guest’ only comes around like 4 times a year. And as recommended by my doctor, i take 2 pregnancy tests a year. One in June, and one in December. Because i can go months, like up to 5 months, without my little red visitor.

And i never know when they are going to come! It’s absolutely terrifying. Like, how do you women put up with this on a regular basis? Maybe its just a shock to me, because im just not used to it.

But this past year, in addition to the one i already took back in June, i took one after that. Now if you haven’t realized it yet, periods not happening are usually the first sign for a girl to be like, ‘oh shit, i have a baby in my stomach.’ I don’t get that glorious luxury. Because like i said, it can be months between each, so each month without one is not a big deal.

But, and this is kind of embarrassing, i confused my PMS symptoms with pregnancy symptoms. I was freaking out. My boobs were sore, my stomach hurt, i was eating all the time, i was emotional. Jesus Christ it was fucking awful.

So i went to the store near my house, picked out the most reliable brand, and went to the counter. And this little shit of a cashier had the fucking nerve to judge me.

“We also have condoms on the same shelf, if your interested in any.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just look too young to have a kid. You need to invest in your future. You need to worry about a child every time you don’t use one.”

I almost leaned forward and punched that fucker in his face. like, at least im being fucking diligent! And of course i would want to know if i was pregnant! I mean, if i think im pregnant im gonna make fucking sure.

“I’m pretty positive that whether or not i use condoms, is really none of your business, and if that’s how you up sell, then i think your going to be jobless pretty soon.”

I took my little box of terror and walked back home.

I wasn’t pregnant, because i started my period like a day later (of course). But the nerve that jackass had. I hope he gets like ten girls pregnant at the same time.

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.

or

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.

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