back in the day

This is one about me, brian, and Murph.

....And then some dude's party with the Chuck's crew. Me, Brian, and Murphy were leaving when Murphy suggests we take these roadcones that were on the sidewalk. Brian and myself (drinking since seven) thought that it would be funny.

We load up the cones, and just when Brian is about to take off, some douche knocks on my window. I casually rool it down and here's teh conversation:

Him-"Did you take those cones?"

Murphy (in the back of the car)-"No. (then to Brian)Go!"

Him-"Well I saw you take them and kids could fall in the hole there."

Me- "Don't worry, dude, we're gonna be sweet."

At this point Brian takes off and we are laughing so hard we're crying. "Dude, we're gonna be sweet" was the saying of the night.

Brian probably still has the cones in his trunk.

Sunshine Days

One of my favorite things to do is go hiking in the Cuyahoga Valley parks. I like going in early summer, before it gets too hot, and too filled with bugs. It's a good time to think about things that your normal everyday life has crowded away in the far corners of your mind.

Now usually I try not to over analyze things, because most of the people that I interact with know I'm a neurotic mess and thinking about shit too long tends to make things worse.

I was watching tv the other day, and they were talking about subconscious decisions. basically, your brain makes a decision about an instant before you realize you want to do that decision. So while you're off thinking that YOU actually decided to do something, your brain already knew that. It doesn't want to hurt your feelings, so it lets you think you're the boss.

I wonder when my brain is gonna let me go hiking. I've got some shit to think about.


more dating

I'm currently dating a great guy. He's super awesome and has put up with a lot. But hey, he doesn't know about blogspot so that gives me free rein to tell dating stories.

Well, lesse, I've dated a fair bit of weirdos and losers. Although to be honest I have had bad taste. Hey, everyone's been young and having fun.

There was Super Shy Guitar Guy. See, I'd had a thing for him for awhile, and had finally gotten him back to my place. The guy, to be honest, wasn't that attractive. He drank too much, had thrown up on my car, and had so far refused any kind of sexual below clothes contact.

Cut to my apartment. We're going at it, and, in the middle of things, he asks, "Hey, can you do me a favor?" and gestures to his penis. I ask, "Um, you want me to go down on you?"

"Yeah, like..a favor.."

So I obliged.

Oh man.

Worst man-bush ever.

There's a phrase from gay guys called 'The Shield'. It's where you take your hands, and make a trianglular hole (between both of your first fingers and thumbs) to let the penis through but not the rest of that stuff. The rest of your hands block the bush from tickling your nose, and making you sneeze (you know your jaw clamps sometimes when you do that? Yeah, bad idea.)

If you do it right, the offender won't even know you're trying not to get a hairball.

Damn, last time I did THAT guy a 'favor'.


Our Former Downstairs Neighbor

I am so glad you're finally out FOR REAL this time. I will give you a list of reasons as to why I am so happy.

-The first month you were there, you called our landlord (a very cool person) and complained about us having a 'marching band' upstairs every morning. Well, it's an old house, as you well know. We actually have to get up that early FOR OUR JOBS. We do try to be as quiet as possible but maybe you should stop sleeping in til noon??

-When you told us we were 'too loud' and you had a daughter that was hearing us. I've never seen this daughter. I would know if I saw her, cause we live in the same house as you and I woulda heard a kid. It's just funny that your mysterious 'daughter' was never around when you and your buddies smoked so much pot, it drifted into the vents in our place and made it smell like a Grateful Dead reunion. I never told the landlord about that.

-Ooh, or how about for Memorial Day, when I had some people over (three girls, who I took all the way upstairs to our finished attic so as not to disturb you), YOU CALLED THE COPS AND SAID THAT MY BOYFRIEND WAS BEATING ME. You've met my boyfriend. He likes fluffy things and plays video games. Really? I know we live in a semi-bad area, and maybe all the baby mommas and ghetto fucks you associate yourself with do those things to each other, but we don't. Thanks for not letting me ever have my friends over again, cause they're terrified you're gonna call the cops.

-Yeah, okay, you're black. You're tough. I get it. How about you don't go towards the sterotypes? No? Okay then. Play extremely loud rap music downstairs in the middle of the week, when normal people have to work tomorrow. Smoke a whole bunch of pot with your retard buddies. Oh yeah, by the way, that one friend of yours that has a handicap sticker in his car and a back brace? He doesn't look so hadicapped when he's helping you lift stuff and work on your car. Oh yeah, and talk on the phone really loud about how you live with a bunch of 'motherfuckers'. And play your car stereo SUPER LOUD when you drive by or wash your car for two hours.

-Oh, that note you left on my car when I parked in 'your space' was hilarious. The house is on a street. I parked in front of MY HOUSE. Your car wasn't there. Oh yeah, that's right YOU HAVE TWO CARS AND FULL USE OF THE GARAGE IN THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, WHICH CAN HOLD TWO CARS. I'm so sorry me and my bf had to park on the street, getting our cars dinged up and vandalized.

-When you said you were moving out the first time, a few months back, I told the landlord we wanted to see downstairs. Oh man. The recycling bin full of 'Meukow vs. Vanilla' was awesome. I had my bf walk upstairs on all the squeeky spots. Hmm, I didn't hear shit. It's funny that way, huh?

-And then when you told the landlords 'Oops, sorry, I'm not moving out' after they'd already been interveiwing people for the apartment? REAL FUCKING CLASSY. It made them look like assholes and well, you already know you're a stupid dickhead, so I guess there wasn't much change there.

-Thank whatever deity is finally putting you out of our lives. I like how your stupid ghetto friends drove their truck right up on the front lawn so you wouldn't have to walk so far with your shitty belongings. And I like how they banged on my door, laughing and shouting 'what's in here?'. That was icing on the cake.

-But you know what? I'm just so fucking glad you're gone.


To the People Who Should Not Be Allowed To Use the Bathroom Alone

Sigh. I know when I got this job, there was nothing on it about cleaning our restrooms. But like many employees, I am a multi-tasker. Mostly because I get the shit list from my managers and have to do it.

So here's a list of People Who Should Not Be Allowed To Use the Bathroom Alone.

-Children. I know you want your five year old to learn to use the potty without mommy's help, but this isn't the time. Public restrooms are dirty, filthy germ magnets (no matter how often they are cleaned), and your child is touching every available surface. They cannot pee in the toilet, but all over the seat and floor, they take FOREVER because mostly they play around in there. I can't count how many times I've had to plunge the toilets cause your precious darling used half a roll of industrial toilet paper. Oh that's right, let them in there by themselves. YOU ASS.

-Old People...REALLY SENILE OLD PEOPLE. I'm sorry you're old. I really am. But especially to that one ol lady that I thought had died in the handicap stall, dude, you should have a helper. Your daughter was out shopping the whole TWO HOURS you were in the stall!!!! I finally had to come in there, mostly because customers were coming out complaining about the stink. Knocking on the stall, you had thankfully managed to get your pants up, BUT COULDN"T FIGURE OUT THE HANDLE TO GET OUT. FOR TWO HOURS. I let you out, and escorted you out. I then made the mistake of going back in to look at the stall. OH DEAR GOD. There is exploded shit everywhere. Smeared all over the seat, on the handrails, on the toilet paper dispenser, and on the doorhandle. All of which I had to clean.

-Mentally Slow People. Listen, I know that might not be PC, but seriously. If you need handlers to even go in a store and look around, you prolly need handlers when you take a shit. I can't really get mad at you cause maybe you don't know better, but ew dude. I don't wanna walk in a bathroom covered in shit and oh hey, there's a smiley face drawn in shit on the wall. Where's your fucking handler? I should make them come in here and clean it up.

-Fat People. Take a shit at home. Seriously. You are the worst toilet cloggers ever. I know, I know, those gallons of velveeta coursing their way from your stomach to your asshole can't feel good, but do that at home. Ugh. It's like if I entered the poop lotto, I would've won the grand prize plus powerball. You don't do that to your own toilet do you??

All this from your once again, FRIENDLY CASHIER.

ah jeez

I was dating this one guy, let's call him Red. Now Red wasn't that attractive, and frankly, he was a raging alcoholic, and treated me like crap. But I was young, and he could be very funny and charming when he wasn't raging drunk.

Our sex life was at best, mediocre, mostly because he lived with his Grandma, and anything we were able to do would have to be done very quietly. I lived with my parents at the time, so sometimes we would sneak into my house and make out, eat food, have sex, etc.

Well this one incident happened towards the tail end of our six month relationship. As usual, we had snuck into my house after drinking, and I was giving him a blowjob whilst he was sitting on the couch. I was going at it with my usual drunken enthusiasm, when suddenly...FFFTTTTPPPPTTTT! Right in my face, accompanied by a horrible smell.

That's right. He farted in my face while I was giving him a bj. His excuse? "I was relaxed."


This is the same boy who, at the end up our relationship, explained why HE was breaking up with ME (I still argue it was mutal). "Well, see, you're the hottest girl I've ever been with, and other girls see me with you. So I figure if I break up with you I can get someone hotter."

My parting line? "You know why I'm breaking up with you? You're fucking crazy."
Hey, Smelly Guy at My Job, I just wanted you to know that whatever you're doing, it's working.

Maybe it was the smell of rotten cheese and b.o. that wafted up my nose when you walked by, or the fact that you are an immense human being, but damn, that was sexy. Maybe Maxim tells you not to bother wearing clean clothes around women, or even in public. It works.

The pit-stained t-shirt that was too small to cover your grotesque stomach or the sweatpants that had large holes on your left side ass cheek was something sooo right my panties totally got wet.

I like how I could see your fat hairy ass through the pants holes, and the fact that you were subtly advertising the fact that you weren't wearing any underwear. The old sneakers and no socks trick was just making me want to beg you for some lovin'. I know, I know, it's hard to be so fat and walk upright, so I like how you were using my store's carts to lean your man tits on for easier walking.

I licked the hand bar of the cart when you waddled and wheezed out of the front doors, leaving that precious cart you used behind, much like my heart. Sigh.

No man will ever best you in my mind, you have ruined me for any relationship I might have. Sigh, I wish you could come in again, for that smell is the only thing now that I look forward to.

Love, That Cashier That Was Making Gagging Sounds Behind You