A Love Letter

Dear Robert Pattinson (aka Edward),

I am writing you so that I can thank you. Your ridiculous hair, brooding stares, terribly pale skin, plump red lips, and amazing jaw line have made me a tween all over again. I saw you in Twilight, and I fell in love. My instant reaction, other than wanting to rip your clothes off, was to immediately purchase everything Twilight related. I want to buy posters of your face to wallpaper my room. I have even considered buying lunch boxes, giant pins for a jean jacket buried in the back of my closet, sheets, dolls, magnets, and trapper keeper folders of you -- all so I can see you everywhere I go. I don't even know if these items exist, but the last time I had this urge was circa 1989 for Joey McIntyre paraphrenalia, and so I daydream of buying similar items of your face now. I have even considered purchasing the entire Twilight soundtrack so I could hear your song, and I'll admit, I don't even know if I like it. But it's you. It's nice to break-up my adult life with these little girl fantasies. You remind me of a simpler time, and the thoughts I have of you are so reminiscent of never-ending days of doodling my initials with my boy crush of the hour's initials. (RED + RP 4-EVA!) The only difference between my thoughts of you and my thoughts as an actual tween is that my fantasies of you sometimes include sex. Super hot sex.

Love always,

Your #1 Fan

Vacation Plans 2009

So I've been trying to figure out where I want to vacay next year. I've had my heart set on Hawaii for some time, and I'm sure I'll still go. BUT -- the other day, H and I came across this place in France:


DOUCY-EN-BAUGES


I must, must, must go to this place. Why? Have you not figured it out? The name of the place is basically Douche Bag. Or Douche-y Bag. Hilarious. This is the most phenomenal geographic find ever for me. I love the words "douche bag." Or "D-bag," "douche-pon," "douche-cape," etc. It's perfect for my 14-year old mentality. Yes! Who else wants to travel there with me?

Worst. Analogy. Ever.

So B and I are watching OTH - and an ex-heroin addict who is a bartender is on the show. Here's how the conversation went down:

B: "Wait, don't you think that being a bartender is a terrible job for an ex-addict?"

Me: "Yeah, that's like becoming a stripper to get over your prostitution addiction."

B: "Who's addicted to prostitution?"

My daily dilemma

Sidenote to my readers: So clearly I took the summer off from blogging. Maybe I'm back . . . maybe I'm not.

Today's dilemma:

My good friend Niki asked me to post this tale, and well, what Niki wants, she almost always gets! This time is no exception. Anyways . . .

Allow me to explain the set up of my work restroom. These are important details, so pay attention. There are six (6) stalls. Each has a role, you could say. Well, I walked into the bathroom to pee - yes we're being this honest - and my pee stall was occupied. Pee stall is stall #1 typically. I once read somewhere that the first stall in a restroom is usually the cleanest because it is used less. That stuck with me, no matter how ridiculous it most likely is. But now my favorite stall was occupied.

So, I couldn't use stall #2 b/c that is just plain creepy to pee in the stall right next to someone else doing their business, when you are the only two women in there.

Well, stall #3 was and always is out of the question. Whenever you sit on this toilet, it sounds like the toilet is about to rip out of the wall. This is disturbing on many levels, because last thing I want is my pants around my knees, in the process of alleviating my bladder when boom--toilet falls off wall, water and pee go everywhere, and I bust through the door with my ass in the air. AT WORK. Let's not forget that my self-esteem plummets when you sit on a toilet and it fucking creaks. How fat do you have to be for your toilet to yell out in pain? No. I will pee in the sink before using stall #3.

I go into stall #4. This could be the one--a good option. Far enough away from occupied #1. Some whore peed all over the lid. Nice one. I have a feeling it's one of those bitches who insist on using the paper bib for the seat every time, and even then, she hovers over the stool. Now she's obsessed with not sharing germs, but has absolutely no qualms about pissing all over the toilet lid so NO ONE ELSE CAN USE THAT. Hate her.

Now we're at #5 - the handicap stall. No one and I mean no one uses the big stall. Don't know why--but it just doesn't happen. I cannot be the first to pop this stall's cherry. Not to mention that using the big stall makes you feel fat too. I mean--what am I simply too giant for the normal people stall that I would need the big stall so my fat ass doesn't hit the sides of the wall? No - I will not have that belief floating through other people's minds.

That leaves us at the last stall, #6. The shit stall. Everyone knows that you only go into that stall to poop. I'm not making this up. How do I know for sure--it's the ONLY STALL with a can of spray in it. We all know what you do when you're in there. There's nothing worse than using the poop stall and not pooping. If anyone else sees you in there, she will automatically assume you are dropping a deuce. You can't then explain "no no, I was just peeing, I promise." Yeah, right. If the situation was reversed, I'd take one look at you, hold my breath and run out.

So here's the dilemma - where do I pee? Do I wait outside or pretend to do my hair, waiting for #1 to open? Or do I bite the bullet and use one of the other horrible alternate stalls? I'll never tell.

He can lay me down on a bed of roses . . .

Lay his hands on me.

Make a memory with me. . . . Always.

I'll be there for you, too.

Ok any more bad Bon Jovi puns? Don't like them - I don't care. I saw this band, more importantly, this man, perform in Central Park last weekend. For the first time in a very VERY very long time, I was speechless. Dear God - he's hot. So my 14-year old self is dedicating a post to my new "slippery when" wet dream man-- Ok I'll stop.

(While this is clearly an older picture - he's still a huge fan of the open hand, fingers spread, arm in the air move. And I'm so very glad--he's super hot!)

(This pic may actually be from our concert. His 1st shirt was very similar to this. So tight, open in all the right places. His 2nd wardrobe change was into a super hot, button-down red shirt though. He was truly a work of art. Kate - these pics don't do justice. Trust me on this - you would have loved him. More than Pacey. I'm that confident. Note the arm move here as well.)

Stupid Bitch Lesson #4

That's right, get out your note taking materials - you're about to be schooled.

So the other night, B and I went to a comedy show. We were sandwiched between the stage and this god-awful couple. (Sidenote: sitting next to the stage ended up being Awe---some!) Anyways . . .

Since we were humping the stage, of course, each comedian talked to us. Now, it's pretty simple - you voluntarily came to a comedy show, you sit up front, you can just about bet your life that they will talk to you - GO ALONG WITH THE SHOW. Don't try to be the show. You're not funny. You're not a comedic writer. You may watch 30 Rock every Thursday, but that does NOT make you Tine Fey. Shut the hell up and give the one line response the entire room expects, so the show can go on.

Simple rules, right? Common sense you could say. But no - this stupid bitch, who had a perm mind you, had to go against the grain. She had a smart ass thing to say about everyone, and in response. Example - rando comedian talking about how girls never have to pay anything. Points in our direction - fully expecting us to nod in agreement. This bitch goes "What's a check?" He didn't hear. She yells louder "What's a check?" I'm pretty sure she had to yell it again. Now I and the others sitting around you had to hear her terrible ass joke multiple times. NOT AWESOME. But the best . . .

So this one comedian did some joke about a blow job. To simulate said act, he put his mouth on the microphone. Granted this is gross - but it is not your job, as an audience member, to point that out. We get it. So when the host takes back the mic, this dumb whore (sidenote: hmm, could there be dumb whore lessons?) yells out: "Ew. That was in his mouth." She cannot get over the fact that this guy was now talking into a mic that was in the previous dude's mouth. Again - not your job to scream this over and over. She can't let it go. She keeps talking about it. So much so, the host dude has to address her. She makes her point for the 90th time: "What has been in his mouth is now in yours." Yes, for real she said this.

This host dude in his moment of glory goes: "Well the pillow you're leaning on has other people's farts on it, and it's now on your back."

Stupid Bitch: "What was in his mouth is now on your mouth."

Host Dude: "What was in someone's ass is now on your back."

Host Dude - 1 Stupid Bitch - 0

Stupid Bitches never win.

God Bless America!

Well I completed my first week back home. I promise I've had no fewer than 78 cups of ice water. Glorious! It's been amazing watching TV. As a matter of fact, I'm watching The Soup right now and they're talking about bird-poop facials. They cost $180. Only in sweet sweet America can you get that and get that on TV. Glorious! Best part--being in my own bed and seeing all my friends again. But who cares about gushy crap, right?

So for my first post in quite awhile, I actually wanted to discuss this:


OMG--Corey Haim is so fat. Now, I knew that he got chunky b/c he was all chubs in his cameo in David Spade's movie Dickie Roberts. But for reals, he doesn't even look like himself. I'm pretty sure he has actually eaten Corey Feldman.

I wanted him to be my boyfriend so badly after watching The Lost Boys for the first time. I mean in the 80s, every pre-teen girl wanted him. Well, thank god for "unanswered prayers" and Garth Brooks. If I would've actually married him, I'd not be having sex with my disgusto hub with not awesome wrist bands. And I personally love the what I'm pretty sure is denim shirt, w/ one side of the collar completely tucked in. Oooh, the topper--he has a girlfriend STILL? I want to see this girl/rhino that I'm pretty sure she has to be.

Ok--gotta go now. Now I'm watching Walking Tall, and you all know how I think The Rock is one of the sexiest men alive. Well, the kissing/sex scene is about to come up. HOTTEST, KISS. EVER. OH. MY. GOD. I purchased the movie just for this scene. I have some constant rewinded to do. I heart DVR. And America.

**Note: I have chosen to leave the many mistakes in the last paragraph b/c I was typing and watching the kissing scene at the same time. You can see how distracted I was. I'm awesome.