RobPat Wednesday

Well, my dream came true today. I saw Robert Pattinson in person. He was gorgeous ladies (and gents). His hair was glorious. He really does shimmer and unicorns do surround him.

I also learned an important lesson. I learned that pretending to be an extra to learn film locations does a body good.

And I learned yet another lesson. I learned that you're never too old or too busy to stop life and do something ridiculous, like stalk one of the hottest celebs known to man. I hope that when I'm 60, I'll still run across town for a glimpse of some hot celeb ass. God, I'm awesome. So are You.

In that kind of mood . . .

I love this site called "Dear Old Love." It has little short notes about love, and you can almost relate to all of them in some way. When I'm all nostalgic, I like to read them. Anyways, I'm sick of seeing that damn eye tat thing every time I open my blog and decide not to write. So enjoy some of my favorite Dear Old Loves (disclaimer: I mean favorite on the 1st few pages b/c I was not going to read these all day) . . .

I punched you in the head to pay you back for the hundreds of times you punched me in the heart.

I pretend I hate you when you ask me for girl advice. But secretly I love that I still know you better than any of them will.

If I had known that I was going to meet the woman you would leave me for when we stopped at your office, I would have put on make-up.

You smiled at me and flipped me off before speeding away. I know it's your way of telling me you'll always care. [Hysterical]

This has to be the most painful thing - ever

I've been toying with the idea of getting a tattoo for some time. Therefore, I've been really thinking about what I want to get. Tonight I stopped by a tat parlor and checked out their pictures/samples and got some ideas. When I got home to do some internet research, I came across the MOST DISTURBING thing ever -- Eyeball. Tattoos. Yes, on your friggin' eyeball. Um, no.

Now not only are your eyes probably watering, but you might be thinking the same thing I thought when I first saw this (other than who in their right mind would do this?) -- What is up w/ the bright ass smurf blue? Well, I found this article that has a slideshow link where you can see the finished product.

Did you look?

Yep, just a bright as blue eyeball. Not that creative. Not awesome. I mean if you're going to do this, might as well get something sweet - like an actual drawing of something on your eye. A big smurf eye is lame. And I'll be honest - I'm a little pissed at this guy. I mean, I winced when I saw the picture, but then, it wasn't even worth seeing. Thanks for nothing.

I need to be stopped

I was in the NBC store the other day w/ the fam, and I discovered that they have a Tim Riggins' #33 jersey. For a split second, I almost purchased it. Then, I realized that I was holding a fictional character's jersey, and if I did go through with the purchase, I'm pretty sure I would have reached an all new low. What is happening to me? Are the men in my real life so unappealing to me right now that I would rather wear the jersey of a hot dude on TV? Or am I so scared of commitment (again) that I am running away from real intimacy and focusing my crushing on a hot dude on TV? Or could it just be that I'm not that sad, and he really is such a ridiculously hot dude on TV that it's somewhat okay to contemplate the purchase? Please, please, please be the latter. . . because I still really want the jersey.

I hate you, PAM

First, and most importantly, there will be a future post dedicated to the hotness that is Tim Riggins on FNL, but something came up that needs posting -- immediately.

Ok. . .

I'm on staycay w/ the fam this week. It's nice. For the past THREE MONTHS, I have been douchebag free at work. Meaning -- I have not worked w/ some super annoying Passive Aggressive Movers, aka PAMs. So when setting out for work, I let all of the people I have been working with know that I'm out but still very available via email. Since I'm so available on email, I did not put out an "out of office" message. My bad, I admit, but I had not heard from other humans at that place for months. I was rushed on my way out, and it slipped my mind.

Well, b/c of my "failure" to do this, the. world. has. ended. at. the. shithole. i. call. work. Today, I see I have a voicemail from PAM. I ignore it. Then, I get an email from PAM asking me to do research. I respond, promptly -- Sorry, I'm out of the office, blah blah blah. I get this gem back:

"I'll get someone else to do the research because we need it done in the next few days. I waited to hear back from you to give you the first opportunity. You should add an 'out of office' message to your email and change your voicemail message so people know you're out. Have a nice break."

OH MY GOD. Can you get any more passive aggressive? Give me the first opt, huh? Um, you basically kicked me off your case months ago. Change my voicemail? NO ONE has ever done that. I really love the "have a nice break" too. I'm sure you reeaaallly mean that one. Why not just say what you want to say:

"You suck because you did not put an out of office message. I will now never think of you again for an assignment, so have fun looking for a new job since I have blacklisted you, bitch. I hope your break sucks and you get a flesh-eating virus b/c I wasted a few hours on this research waiting for your damn reply. Die in hell. Thanks!"

I would respect that. I would want to work for that. But no, I'm stuck w/ PAM -- that ole bitch.

Whatevs, You'd Still Hit It

Given my love for RobPat, naturally, everyone is asking me how I feel about his stinky ass hair. You'd think people would be more concerned with my cougar-self crushing on a teen heartthrob, but that's a different post on how I reject adulthood altogether. Back to the point. . .

Of course, it's foul that he won't wash his hair, but WHO CARES? I'd still do it. And be honest, so would you. So. Would. You.

p.s. I am entirely aware that his face is actually kind of screwed. It looks like someone pushed his nose over. Still those eyes. Those eyes, people.

COMING UP NEXT: Post on my other ridiculous obsession - Riggins. FNL. Refuse to call him by real name. It's terrible.

Operation Barista: Day 1

I had been really good at lunch. Instead of the soup in a giant bread bowl that I love, I opted for a cup of soup and Greek salad. I resisted the cream cheese and blueberry croissant, the marshmallow brownie, the cherry cheesecake. But an hour after I returned from lunch a chocolate craving overwhelmed me. This was a new feeling for me. I'm not the chocolate girl usually. But today I couldn't help but scarf the mini-Butterfinger in my desk and then steal a bite-sized Milky Way from my co-worker.

Not enough. I could not get chocolate out of my brain. More specifically, I could not stop thinking about the chocolate-caramel-covered pretzels at the coffee shop across the street. Could. Not. Stop.

Fuck it. Grabbed my purse, nearly sprinted to the coffee shop for my fix.

When I arrived I realized it wasn’t coffee or the pretzels that the fates had sent me for. No. It was The Barista. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he prepared the iced latte for the bearded dude in front of me. Unlike most of the people around here, he did not seem to be a caricature, rather, he seemed like an actual, cool person -- The Barista, not the bearded dude.

Then it was my turn. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until time was up. Witty banter, flirtatious grins, boob flash?

It was over too soon. The decaf skinny mocha did not take nearly long enough to prepare. We had so much more to discuss, so many more jokes to crack. So many more times for me to undress him with my eyes.

I had used my “Perks Card” to pay, and after our shared moment, I felt like I needed to tip. I paused as I was about to walk away, while he helped the next customer. Crap. Only a $20 bill! Couldn’t do it. For that much money, I'm pretty sure it would be like prostitution after all the things he did to me in my mind. I looked up sheepishly. He was watching me, but I don’t think it was for the tip. He knew what was I was thinking -- at least that's what I choose to believe.

So I flashed the smile (not the tatas) again, “I’ll see you later.” “See ya,” he smiled back.

Now, I have to go back to the coffee shop every. Single. Day. Hot Barista, you will be mine.