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It’s Not Me, It’s You

14 Jul
What an inviting mascot.

What an inviting mascot…from your nightmares.

So…after enough years at the same job, I quit.  I worked there so long that I needed help from my roommate and friends to remember all the crazy ass stuff that I’ve seen and that has happened to me while working there. As many of you know I worked at a restaurant at a theme park in Southern California. (Figure it out.)Also, the mascot looks like a GIGANTIC Klan member…I didn’t just put a creepy racist clown photo up to creep you out for no reason. stupid people That job made be realize how INCREDIBLY stupid people are. I got  sick of explaining what penne is….PENNE! Where do people eat that they don’t know what a simple form of pasta is? Speaking of forms. It doesn’t matter what shape your pasta is assholes. It ALL tastes the same and it will all leave your stink hole the same way. Adults who bitch about what shape pasta they receive were the shit head kids that don’t eat crust and only wanted buttered noodles. And how is buttered noodles an acceptable dinner for kids?? There is ZERO nuterion in that. I didn’t even know that was an option for a dinner until I started that job in my twenties, why? Because my parents didn’t let me decide what I ate. Why? Because as my Dad said about parenting, “This is a dictatorship, not a democracy.” white devil! Most importantly, stereotypes are true. But the worst kind of  people (this is not limited to my place of work) are parents. Hands down. I’m sure those of you with kids are thinking, “You don’t have kids, you don’t know.” I’m not a parent, I’m a sane (angry) person. What I do know is, letting your kid pull their pants down and drop a watery deuce in the middle of our patio seating makes me want to punch you in your reproductive organs. Yes, that actually happened.merp Or when a kid crapped so hard, it shot up it’s back, the Mom washed it off in one of the bathroom sinks. She clogged that sink with poo, switched to the other sink, clogged that one and left the people crapping in the stalls with no sink to wash of their dooky hands. Those are just SOME of the gross stories I have. asshole kidKids are evil, but they are evil because of crappy parenting.  For example, parents letting their kids beat me with balloon animals like I was Joe Pesci at the end of Casino, or let them run around me while I carry 16 drinks…assholes. Little kids who have cellphones make me want to drop kick them into a fountain. Who are they texting? One, they don’t know how to spell. Two, when you’re 6 years old, the majority of the people you know in life are at the same dinner WITH YOU! I’ve seen a teenager, sitting right next to her Mom, tell her to “shut up” then threw a FORK at her Mom’s head! I wish the story ended with, ‘and then the Mom took her outside and beat her kid’s ass,’ but  she ended up calmly asking her violent hell child “what’s wrong?” GAH!  Once while I was taking an order, I had a kid look up at me and cough INTO MY MOUTH. The parents said nothing, dicks, I didn’t even excuse myself, I just walked away. Here’s a tip for other servers: If  the Mom is in the bathroom when it’s time to order, don’t go to the table because all modern fathers are useless. I truly mean that, they are just walking sperm donors. They don’t know what they’re own children are “allowed” to have. GOD DAMN IT! You’re a man, pick for them. Juice or water? Stop being a little bitch. Now, a happy story: One time a kid ran straight into a lamp pole. I laughed SO damn hard. eww get off meNow, I don’t have to deal with gross co-workers touching me or saying inappropriate things to me. What do I mean by inappropriate? ” I want to put olive oils all over your body and massage you with my feets, then put my big toe in your butt.”  Gross and I hate olive oil. Or customers wanting me to join them for a threesome, barf. People need to stop.

After all these terrible stories, do I miss it?  Well, it was easy, aside from all the assholes, and I made really good money….so kind of. 

Haters Gonna Hate

12 Jun

Hater gonna hate, guuurrrrl.

So…I haven’t been writing about any weird dates lately because I’ve been dating a nice guy for over a year now. Everything is great, but when I tell people about him, they think it’s ok to voice their absurd opinions about it. I understand that may seem normal, most people’s  friends dole out all kinds of unsolicited inputs about their friends’ boy/girlfriends. But, those musings aren’t that of an Indiana Jones super villain… typically.

indy

The guy I’m dating is of the Jewish persuasion. I didn’t really think people hated on Jews anymore. I mean, this isn’t 1930s Germany (these events happened before Russian decided to time travel their crazy balls thinking back to WWII.) Well, I was way wrong. There’s a woman at the school I went to who was very religious and I didn’t mind having little theological discussions with her, I mean I was there 9 hours a day, I had to pass the time some how! One day she told me that she wasn’t prejudiced against anyone… “except the Jews! They killed Jesus and all they care about is money.” WHOA!  Holy shit, right?

j1j2

I told her that I thought Jesus’ job was to die…like, that was  his reason for being, so why get mad about him successfully completing his job, regardless of who helped him accomplish it ? Didn’t matter. She would say “Jews” and then hiss like a vampire seeing the sun. WTF, right? How do I meet these people?  I got to listen to a few months worth of this from her. I get it, she’s old…old people don’t give a shit about what’s politically or logically correct.

how bout no

Then I met younger people who, as soon as they found out I was dating a Jewish guy, verbally barfed up their ignorant ass views. During these incidents, I wasn’t the only one around, other people my age were present and NO ONE ELSE thought, “hmm, that was, I don’t know….inappropriate!”

hile myself

After experiencing this more times than I thought I ever would in my life, I figured I must secretly be in a Mel Brooks movie because this has to be a joke. I was just waiting for someone to burst out into a flamboyant song and dance number. Surely, people aren’t actually like this! Had Indiana Jones taught people nothing? If you hate Jews, this will happen to you…every time:

melt

Am I trying to say that only Christians are simple-minded, bigots? Nope.  I’ve been ignored by my Jewish side of the family for being Gentile. I met the majority of the Goldberg side of my family while watching my grandfather die of cancer in the ER….treasured family memories! I’ve been hated by ex-boyfriend’s mothers for not being “Christian enough.” Just like Jesus would want, right?

hate rita

I enjoy hating as much as the next person, actually probably more…it just feels so good. But hating is an art form, don’t be lazy about it. Hate someone for something really personal, something that, if you told them why you hated them, would probably send them into years of therapy. That’s the kind of hating I love, it’s much more fulfilling. Hate someone for being dismissive, rude, arrogant or just for being a gigantic asshole to you.  Don’t hate someone for their religion, you unimaginative, mundane, pedestrian, hack!

 

I’m Going Slightly Mad

29 May

adult1 adult2

So…for the past year I’ve been learning a trade so I can write more and smell like pizza and kid farts less. At this “institution”…which it totally felt like that to me when my time was coming to an end….I got a greater realization that 18-22 yr olds are not adults. I know society thinks they are, but this is not 1943, none of them are running farms or going off to war…they can barely wipe their asses.

crazy mo fo

While being surrounded by these people for 45 hrs a week, I started to think I lost my ability to be funny. Maybe I was exhausted from all the school plus work? Yes… but no, that wasn’t it. Then I thought I must be going crazy instead because I didn’t/couldn’t believe that people like this actually existed and had not gotten themselves killed yet.  I already told you there is a person I have met, in real life, that can NOT read a clock. So, clearly, I’m not insane because that  person shouldn’t exist.

iamcalm

There are people don’t know who American treasure, Tom Hanks, is. I have met people who have never seen Hocus Pocus or Back to the Future.  Do people hate their children? Does no one watch TV, because BTTF (as the cool kids call it) is almost always on TNT every weekend? God damn it! What else could be on TV that is better than some young, fine, Calvin Klein MJ Fox? Come on! Also this generation thinks Anne Bancroft is “thick.” If that is true, I must be an elephant in their stupid, young, eyes.

ihatepeople

I also think there is a major problem with the way girls and guys speak to each other in their early twenties. There was a girl in class telling me about this guy that she started dating, maybe a week prior to this conversation. She was already talking about marrying him, he got a tattoo of her on his back…oh yeah, this is real life. She said he was so nice to her and she had me read one of his texts where he said he was glad they “smashed guts” last night.

ugh

………………..”Smashing guts” is what guys are calling sex now. I’ll let you think about that for a minute.

 

I’ll say what everyone is thinking, we need a draft. These assholes need to go. Soon.

 

*Yes, they broke up after 3 weeks. Thank God he’s got that tattoo, right?

fuck nuts

Roger teaches English at this “institution.” He informed me that his students had no idea there were beaches in Orange County. (Yes, they were all raised here.) And one person wrote in an essay, which was turned in for a GRADE, stating that MLK Jr. freed the slaves.  These numb nuts have phones, which they are on CONSTANTLY which can access GOOGLE and look up who freed the slaves. Instead they literally pull shit out of their asses and smear it across a paper and expect an A. Psychos.

selfie And lastly, the amount of selfies I witnessed on a daily basis was staggering. If you watch someone take a selfie, they look like an insane person. Why are you suddenly happy? Duck lips aren’t sexy, it looks like you’re making an “oops, I farted” face. And maybe you did.  I can’t comprehend why these girls think they look so great that they need to document how they look EVERY DAY. Especially when we wear uniforms and look the same EVERYDAY!

 

So, basically, I thought I was going slightly mad, but in reality, I’m just mad.

 

M.I.A

19 Mar
Shoot me.

Shoot me.

So….have I turned into a hermit ala Little Edie? Unfortunately no. Have I stopped writing because I don’t like it anymore? HELL NO. I’ve been back at school (AGAIN) for the past, almost, year. The reasoning behind it is that I can get a nice job, that doesn’t involve kids slapping me in the ass with balloon animals and be able to have more time to write. I have plenty of stories from school and a never-ending ocean of rage at some of the dummies that go there with me. I really should wait until I’m done before I write about all the ridiculous goings on there, but here’s a preview: I have met a 20 something “adult” who doesn’t know how to read a clock. I’ll let that sink in for a moment.

stupidI have also met a roomful of people who don’t have any idea who Angela Lansbury is.

birdI promptly left that room.

I know what you’re thinking, how am I not a full blown alcoholic yet? I don’t have time to be. School is 45 hrs a week work is about another 20-25 more. I have also been dating a really nice guy for a year…so, sorry, no more crazy dating stories. I know, they were always a fun read. I won’t miss those kook-jobs though. That said, I AM going to TCMFF 2014 and will give everyone a nice report back. Party pal Alan and I will be in full affect, so it’ll be a good one.  See you soon.

Young Americans

8 Apr

dumbassSo…as I have said many times, I deal with an unusually high amount of idiots at my job…well, everywhere actually, they’re just more highly concentrated at my work. As I was getting my section ready one night I heard David Bowie being piped in and commented to a coworker about the song being so good and how I’d rather hear his songs than that stupid ass violinist playing the theme to Schindler’s List every night. (Because nothing says happy vacation time like the theme song from a movie about genocide, right?) Smart coworker agreed with me and then Dumbass chimed in. “Who the fuck is David Bowie?”

pray for brainsI Bea Arthured that d-bag. My eyes rolled back so far, I think I bruised them. Thankfully Smartie started the smack down for me, “Um, The Labyrinthine?” DA, “What the fuck is…how ever you say that word?”

I know what some of you hippies are thinking, “No, young people are smart. They’re always researching things on the interwebs.”

realpeople1 realpeople2

Me and only a handful of my friends use the computer for learning and not finding out where to buy a chin-do . Example: The trailer for Behind the Candelabra came out today. I looked up when Liberace died, then what happened to Liberace’s lover, which lead me to finding out what happened to his brother George. Welcome to my brain.

abby normalDumbass is a perfect example of what is wrong with the youth of America, they are not ashamed of their stupidity. Actually, they are proud of it, they flaunt it. I blame anti-bullying. I can hear you now, “Don’t make them feel bad for being stupid.” Why not? They try, with their abby-normal brains, to make me feel bad for being smart. If they could successfully put me down, they would essentially be bullying me. That seems to be ok with everyone though. It’s PC for dumb people to make fun of smart people but not vice versa. 

Thinking is hard, reading is hard…Smart people should be celebrated and dumb asses should want to change their ways. That probably won’t happen.  Maybe I should…lower expectations

and then….

kitty

…maybe I’ll only do the second thing. Come on dummies, stop being such…dummies!! Go learn one new thing today. Just one. And here’s some Bowie, for those of you who don’t know who he is.

Status Update

4 Mar
If you think this is directed at you...it is.

If you think this is directed at you…it is.

So…stupid ass Facebook updates. I’ve been wanting to write about this topic for a long time, but apparently I wasn’t annoyed enough to do so.  I know what you’re thinking, if someone’s annoying, why don’t you delete them? I did, but these dummies are everywhere. After a conversation (read: bitch fest) with Kim, I found that I was not the only one who can’t stand this crap. There are a few different kinds of status updates that are especially annoying.

dunt do that

Hash tags. Facebook is not Twitter. I feel like I’m playing a sick grammar game about being able to read things that aren’t properly written out. Hash tags are used to help people search for things. I HIGHLY doubt anyone is searching for #ilovehimhelovesme. Write it in your diary. #Choke yourself.

sitonaknife

Attention seekers. Yes, I understand, most people want attention, but I’m talking about a certain sort of attention.  People who complain about being sick, do you realize that is exactly what you’ll be bitching about when you’re 80? Call your Nanna and ask her how she’s doing…it will sound exactly the same as your latest update. Hip and cool, huh? Asking for hugs and telling people you feel overwhelmed or sad makes me want to smash your computer…call your Mom or get a pound puppy. Better yet, get a damn therapist because at least someone will get paid to listen to you…whiner.

f u

People who are constantly stating how amazing their life is. No, I’m not jealous. Of what? Your vacation? (That you loser husband let your Dad pay for.) Your (second) marriage?  Honestly, I think these people are convincing themselves that they are actually happy…or they’re assholes. If that is the case, I can’t wait for you to break-up/get divorced (again).  My black heart will enjoy every minute of it and so will everyone else, I’m just the only one ballsy enough to tell you.  And stop using phrases like: the hubs, the fam bam and the bestie. No one likes that.

offensive

What about me, aren’t I annoying? I’m a single chick in her late 20’s on the verge of becoming a cat lady, what do you think, genius? Of course I am. Unlike everyone else, I at least try to make my eccentricities entertaining to the world instead of making them want to scratch their eyeballs out after they’ve read whatever it is I wrote about. Plus, going to this blog takes a smidgen of effort, you don’t have to come here if you don’t want to. Seriously.

Do what you want, but entertain me.

Who Can It Be Now?

28 Jan

story of my life

maid 2

So…I starting using an online dating site ( my Grandma thinks the name is “It’s OK to be Stupid”) to help me meet someone before I give up on life, adopt 38 cats and begin wearing only Muumuus. I figured that since you have to answer questions and fill out profile crap, that would probably knock out enough idiots.

I thought wrong. Let me share some of the best messages I’ve received.  I have not altered these in any way, just copied and pasted them from my inbox. For those of you who don’t believe me when I tell you how tedious it is to wade through these morons, your brain will probably crap out the side of your head after this, so grab a wet wipe.

  • glass-essay1: “Pardon me for asking, but I’m very curious. What’s your bra size? Honestly. 34C or D?”

respect me1

respect my boobies

  • wineanddineyou: “Wolfgang Puck. Wine tasting in Santa Barbara. Sunday brunch at Hotel Bel Air. A night at the Four Seasons Westlake Village Spa. Good morning! Is there anything I can do or say to say YES to seeing me? I am a work a holic so I am seeking something casual. In exchange I am more than happy to help with your bills to see you maybe once every 2 weeks. Please…. You are really adorable and cute and I promise to show you a great time. You will have fun with me and laugh and you won’t regret it. I am happy to send you a photo of you’d please give me your email address.”
Since when do I look like Pretty Woman?

Since when do I look like Pretty Woman?

  •  issaaa: “hi there what ethnicity are you? :)” 
a brain..a heart..the nerve

Because my extreme paleness makes me racially ambiguous?

  • madiman: “just the ex-girlfriend I’m looking for.”
Really, dude?

Really, dude?

  • greatbirds: “Hello..? Could i be your slave…?”
boombox

Idiot.

  • glidingsaucers: “You almost capture the elegance of the mammary grope of the original. You must be the next Rodin.”
What are you even trying to say, dum dum?

What are you even trying to say, dum dum?

  • smartcutewriter: “Ok just read my profile and contact me. Nuff said :)”
Good writers don't use the word "nuff," jag weed.

Good writers don’t use the word “nuff,” jag weed.

  • ANDREW_IS_HORNY: “OMG!!!! i would soo fuk u hard in the ass nd pussy i’ll eat u out send me a naked pic of u nd i’ll send u 1”
My thoughts exactly.

My thoughts exactly.

And those are messages from the guys I did NOT go on dates with. One guy I met up with had a list to help him know when he was in love, also, he’s never been in love.  I got catfished…or Manti Te’o-ed, either way, that was weird and lame. Another guy told me he was into BDSM, banging old chicks and having them use strap ons on his b-hole.  That was on our first (and only) date.  And my personal favorite, I got dumped because, apparently, I’m “too sarcastic.” I feel like anyone who’s had more than a 10 minute conversation with me would figure that out rather quickly. It took him almost two months.

Damn, is this too sarcastic?

Is this reaction too sarcastic?

Thank you, my parents’ generation, for making the “men” I get to date. I love wasting all my pretty years weeding through this discouraging, never-ending, garden from hell.

This Ain’t My First Time At The Rodeo

11 Nov

Clearly, this is the bane of my existence.

So much for my momentary respite from dealing with the epidemic of asshole guys in my life. I turned around from writing about my last foray into dating, just to be hit by another  iceberg. Honestly, I’m not trying to become the Taylor Swift of blogging, but clearly life has other plans for me. Sadly, people either relate, sympathize or laugh with me when I write about this crap, so here I go again. Sit back while I tell you a tale about someone who told many tales.

The first time I made the acquaintance of this guy we met for a few drinks on the same property where we both work. For all intents and purposes, let’s call him “Woody.” He was a talker, it was almost as though someone was obsessively pulling his string! That meant I just sat back, enjoyed my drinks  and listened to him prattle on about himself since he asked me, maybe, one question. “Woody” hales from the Central Valley, near where I grew up, so I figured he wouldn’t be as asinine as the boys down here tend to be. He touted his chivalry from the word go, “I have two sisters, I know how to treat women.” Then the bill came and he said we could spilt it.

Oh yes, we’re almost 30, let’s go Dutch!

“Woody” also informed me, “If you want to hang out again, text me.” This guy seemed kind of funny and we had a few things in common.  But, as we all know by now, I’m a blunt person and want to be treated like a girl, NOT a bro. I told him, “I do want to see you again, you can call me.”

We both work very odd hours so, we started hanging out at my apartment afterwards. We would watch stand up specials. He likes comedy and thinks I’m a “comedy snob” like him. First of all, that’s not even a thing. Secondly, I know more about comedy than he does. I studied it, I’ve written/write it, I’ve performed and to me, what’s funny is funny–that’s it. (And you need to learn your stand up comedians better if you want to keep this “snob” title up, son.)

I, too, thought we were both on the same level of nerdiness. I have a secret love, not so secret anymore, of Star Wars. While discussing what celebrities we’ve hobnobbed with, I mentioned that one of the most impressive stars I’ve ever met was Debbie Reynolds. This guy, a self-proclaimed geek, didn’t even know that she is Princess Leia’s Mom.

Choke yourself.

Debbie Reynolds is a God damn delight to behold and the only reason Carrie Fisher became anything in the first place. Why do I know so much and others know…nothing?!

“Woody” even had a podcast and some stand up of his own work that I listened to. (No, I won’t post a link, I’m not giving some jerk free publicity! I’m not sad enough to be stupid.) To prove that I’m not a completely heartless, vengeful, bitch, I won’t say that he’s stuff was shitty because it wasn’t. One of the main reasons I liked this guy was because I thought I had finally found someone with whom I could be creative. His stuff needed work and the idea of doing that together was an intoxicating thought. Clearly, I got a little too drunk on the idea.

Woody: I don’t want to hurt you like the last guy.
Me: Then DON’T.

“Woody” and I got pretty close. He opened up about his past relationships. He reassured me and said “not to worry about” certain other girls from his past.  He was well aware about the Hindenbergh of my last jaunt into dating.  He even told me he didn’t want to lead me on like the last guy did. Unfortunately, he thought a certain blog entry  about the last doucher was directed towards him. Just like a man, thinking every little thing is about him. I liked “Woody.” So much that I even wrote another entry, expressing how sorry I was about “Woody” feeling like I had written something awful about him when he hadn’t deserved it…yet. At the time he was also expressing that he didn’t know if he was ready for a relationship, which is why he found a few similarities between the post and his life. Trust me, I felt like I was watching the same, crappy re-run. Like that episode of ‘Saved By The Bell’ you hate, but always end up catching on WGN when you can’t sleep. Just like that!

Then, he stood me up.  YEA!!! That…again! A day later he got off his ass and text me back, “I’m horrible at communication. I don’t know how I feel.”

What? That’s such a stupid, dick head excuse.  It’s 2012, you’re 27, try again.

I know you saw the texts, you didn’t have the balls to respond until a day later with a lame excuse. He feigned an attempt to mend his fences, but I knew something was up. I’ve dated too many assholes not to know in my gut when something is wrong. I felt it coming, the Joan Crawford inside of me knew.

“This ain’t my first time at the rodeo. And don’t you forget it.” – Joan Crawford.

On Thursday, “Woody” had informed me that he wasn’t going to be driving back down from visiting family until the following day and we would hang out some time this weekend. *Ting* Something’s not right again.

As I drove around LA, going from lunch with a friend to having cocktails with Rog, I look into the craptastic Los Angeles traffic and saw….”Woody.”

Oh, helllll naw. I did NOT just see that!

I see weird crap all the time, but this really took the cake. I raced to Musso & Franks for a stiff cocktail. I texted “Woody,” telling him I saw his twin, just to see if he would cop to his lie.

“Fucking Doppelganger. What sort of car what he driving?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Nothing enrages me more than a liar…except for when that liar thinks I’m not smart enough to unravel their crappily planned lies.

“Stalker Staus. We’ll talk soon”

Oh, I see. I was in LA when you were SUPPOSED to be up north. I caught you in a lie and I’m the crazy one. Ok, yeah. That makes sense.

Seriously, you think you are smarter than ME? Go back to Fresno, amature night.

A few days go by and I get some texts from a friend that wake me up. “Woody’s” got a girlfriend and it’s not you.”

God knows he wasn’t man enough to tell me this glorious news. I’m sure he thought he was playa enough to pull off juggling two girls. I told you I KNEW something was wrong.  I have a very STRONG hunch that the girl he’s with is the girl he told me not to worry about. I’m sure he lied about a ton of other things too, but you get the gist of it. I don’t have to date every single guy to know 99% of them are assholes. I just really wanted him to be contrary to all the other drones. I thought I’d finally found someone who’d broken the mold, but he was just a cheap knock off.  And, he was right, he really does know how to “treat women,” he just didn’t define exactly how he liked to” treat” them.

“Woody,” that post was not about you, but you can bet your life that this post, right here, this one, is alllll about you, boy. I didn’t want to have to write this post, but you practically begged me to. Enjoy your self-made celebrity. You are King Shit of Turd Mountain. You did a play-by-play of what the last guy did to me. You manipulated my feelings, got me attached to you, erased yourself from existence and gave me, yippie, a reason to write a blog about another turd blossom I’ve dated. How original. That’s somebody else’s bit, think up one of your own, you HACK!

I’ll let the Queen of my heart, Mr. Mercury, express my feelings in song.

My Smile Still Stays On

8 Aug

Does this look like someone who’s completely disappointed? Give me an Oscar already.

So…Harry’s cousin, Matt, is back from the Army, and after two and a half years, I got to see my pals again! Unfortunately for me, they wanted to go to my work. Totally where I wanted to be on a Saturday in the middle of summer, but for Harry, anything.  I remembered how much fun we used to have and just knew it was going to be like old times. I couldn’t wait!

I had gone over what seeing him would be like a million times in my head. But, in reality, it was like most reality based things, underwhelming. I sat at the spot where we were to met and he walked right passed me. Apparently he didn’t recognize me because he was looking for red hair…even though he knew I’ve been blonde for years. I got a lame, short,  hug and a polite, “What’s new?”

OK, after a few years, maybe things are a little rusty, I get it. Not everyone thinks about life like they’re in a movie…like me.

Ever observant, Matt pointed out that these hats looked like a bra. I tested it out, yep.

The day went on and Matt and I were cracking jokes and ripping on weirdos like we’d done a million times before.  Harry was VERY quiet, not making  jokes or giving much to any conversation.  He showed less than zero interest in what’s going on in my life, which I always find to be a fabulous trait for a “friend” to have, but decided to ignore that for the time being. Roger met us for drinks and Harry, who has met Rog before, had no idea who he was to me or where I knew him from. (Wow! Beyond rude.) I had to repeat stories from when we lived together because he’d forgotten them and others that I knew I had told him and are even on my blog! God forbid he put effort into anything not regarding himself and read this. I try to make it, at least, mildly entertaining! I felt like I had been “erased…from existence.”  What really set me over the edge was when he told me he had been down here on vacation last year and didn’t even stop in to tell me hello. Hiroshima happened in my brain when I heard that bull crap.

At work, on my day off. The definition of a good friend.

My very own Harry Burns, my buddy, old pal had turned into a shell of himself.  A completely beastly, boring, bourgeois, zombie of what he once was. I don’t know how, in under three years, someone I cared for so much could turn into someone who, if I met them in a bar for the first time, I would never want to talk to again. I almost bawled my eyes out at the fireworks (but never let it show, thank you British genes!)  because I was so disappointed and upset at what he’d turned into and what I had lost. Luckily during this extremely depressing turn of events in my life, I listened to the theme music from movies of my childhood, and I realized that even though this feels like hell, I still have movies. I can throw all my energy into my (screen)writing.

I’ll follow Freddie’s sage advice:

One Percent

9 Jul

Due to the people around me, my face is close to permanently looking like this.

So…I don’t get offended very easily, but I suppose I’m due every couple of years. I received Harry’s wedding invitation in the mail the other day. It was not a surprise to me; I knew he was engaged. When he told me about the impending nuptials he said, “You can bring a date, if you can find somebody.”

Ha, ha, ha, I get it. It’s fun to rib me about the difficulty I have in the dating world and all the horrible dates that I do manage to go on. It’s even more hilarious because it makes no sense why it’s hard for me,  especially since I’m not a dumb, small breasted, troll.  Harry doesn’t understand how I’m single, nor does anyone else.

My Grandma, a former model who’s been married a few times and never had any problems dating, is convinced the reason I don’t get asked out is because all the men in LA are gay…out of the closet or not, all of them. My Mom, perfection in human form (just ask her), has never had to ask a guy out, or been rejected and certainly not dumped. Therefore, she’s unable to dole out advice to the Marty Feldman-esque  freak show she produced. When I talk to her about dating, she looks at me like a dog hearing something confusing.

Clearly, Harry knows I’ll show up to this thing SOLO. And I particularly enjoyed his ever so slow, twisting of the knife when I opened the invite.  He took it upon himself to fill it out for me, stating TWO people would be coming.

Is he taking some sick joy in me having to X out the TWO that he so carefully took the time to write in, just so I have to replace it with a sad little ONE? It’s not like I want to go alone but he’s not trying to help me out either. He straight up told me he’s not even inviting any attractive guys. Seriously?

99% of the time, I can go anywhere alone and really don’t mind being single (which is probably part of the problem) but this instance is the 1%. I also hate having a problem where I need someone else’s help. I’m not used to the damsel in distress role— it feels weird.

A few people told me to bring Roger, but you know what’s more sad than going to your best friend’s wedding alone? Going with your gay BFF. I might as well go in a Muumuu covered in Cheese It crumbs and bring my cat with me. Another option was to get the hot actor guy from my writing group to go with me and “act” like he’s my boyfriend. This guy is in the new Twilight movie. Let’s face it, he’s prettier than me.

Sure, nothing would give me more pleasure than showing up with somebody, just so I could tell Harry to “suck it.” (And I totally would, even on his wedding day.)  But, getting someone to “pretend” to be my date seems like it’s a horrible idea for a movie (because it was one, ‘The Wedding Date.’ It’s craptastic and you can catch it on TBS, probably right now.)

If I could fake it with some dude, I’d go big, so I could make it a legendary story. Prince Harry’s single and has been to a few weddings recently. But, he also likes the hooch and I don’t want to end up babysitting at the end of the night. Who else?  Well, of course, if there were a, smart, wise assed guy who would like to join a, how did his friends every so eloquently put it? Ah, yes, “young chick with big titties,” I would be beyond stoked. Especially if he had a sweet Brooklyn accent.

Hey, I heard that, you judgmental pessimist! Let the cold, bat cave I call my heart be positive for once. Dreams can come true…says the company I work for. Anyway, I’ve got three months to figure something out.