May 19, 2011


Old People Say The Damnedest Things.

I had the MOST awkward experience the other night. While at dinner at the Woodstock Inn with the S.O, his father, his father’s girlfriend, one of the head professors of the Business major at my college, and a Business student who had just published a book and given a reading at the S.O’s dad’s bookstore, conversation turned to age differences in relationships. After regaling the table (minus the S.O, who had excused himself to the bathroom,) with tales of my 15 year old mother meeting my 23 year old father and getting hitched 2 years later, and the eerie coincidence of my first boyfriend being 24 when I was 16, I made some flip comment about how the magic age difference in my family is 8 years. This prompted the Business professor— one of my S.O’s leading professors and influential people— to ask what the age difference was between my S.O and I. I told him, truthfully, that the S.O is 4 months younger than I am. And he replies,

"Well, then this relationship is doomed."

The table PLUNGED into silence. Me, my S.O’s father, and his father’s girlfriend were in SHOCK. Finally, after some playing with my bracelets, I piped up with, “Actually, it’s going well, and is, um, my most serious relationship to date…”

To which my S.O’s father asks, “After a month?”

I ended on the stellar note, “I was a little bit of a heartbreaker in high school.”

And then the S.O came back, and I got to tell him the story over a VERY dirty martini later that night and we had a great tipsy laugh knowing that we’re “doomed.”

Long story short: Most awkward of awkwards.

XOXO

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May 22, 2011


Girl Talk: Why I Should Not Be Given Sensitive Information.

  • And tests were neg? And, after you answer that, tell me what you had at the Green Room.
  • Madison: Yes, neggo.
  • Oh, good. Neggo preggo? Not in your eggo?
  • Madison: Exactament.
  • XOXO

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June 3, 2011


Story of. My life.
I just chirped at a man the same way I chirp back at the cat. Who am I and why did they let me out of the nature preserve from whence I came where I was obviously raised Romulus and Remus style?
XOXO

Story of. My life.

I just chirped at a man the same way I chirp back at the cat. Who am I and why did they let me out of the nature preserve from whence I came where I was obviously raised Romulus and Remus style?

XOXO

(Source: muffliatos)

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June 4, 2011


Things That Make Me Laugh:

The look the S.O and I whipped around and gave each other when while barbecuing yesterday with the Deathriders, happily sipping beers and minding our own general MC business, my ex strolled by the front porch:

While it was on the more awkward scale of awkwards, I think it is now safe to assume he knows his ex is dating one of his old school chums. We were all very pleasant and grown-up. He invited us over later for a party. And no one died. Huzzah!

XOXO 

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June 18, 2011


For the last umpteen years of my life that I’ve spent co-existing at home with my parents (barring the last 4 years I’ve lived away from them, but most definitely including the times I’ve come home,) my mother’s always had this habit of popping over the top of the couch while I’m reclining in supreme relaxation, and either chatting away with me while (from my point of view, upside down,) or conversely, pecking me on the forehead in maternal affection.

Someone popped over the top of me this afternoon and promptly started kissing me, a la Spiderman. I had the briefest moment, mid-snog, when I found myself thinking, “You know, I didn’t get a really good look at who this was before they attacked me, and as I’m being quite passionate, I SINCERELY hope this is the S.O and not my mother, like it very well could mistakenly be.”

Ooer.

Luckily, I was correct in my assumption and there was nothing Oedipus-esque going on in the fair kingdom of Denmark.

Tra-la-la.

XOXO

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June 22, 2011


Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

The other day, the S.O and I were grocery shopping when I turned a corner, turned around again on my heel, and flattened myself up against the granola display. He gave me a look that rightly said, “Crazy woman, what are you doing; this is not a safari hunt where we have to hide from the native head-hunters while foraging for our food!” 

"It’s TGIS’s ex-girlfriend!" I hissed at him. "I’ve never seen her in real life!" (As opposed to, obviously, all the hours spent staring at her profile picture on Facebook during the duration of our relationship.)

He ran off to investigate. I hid in the dry goods section.

Good to know who’s really brave when it comes down to it; I think I’ll forever be the awkward one hiding in amongst the dried fruits and organic pastas going, “You don’t know me, you don’t know me, you don’t know me.”

XOXO

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July 1, 2011


Ice-T’s wife Coco (yes, THAT Coco of epic proportions) has released a single. It’s called “Shoe Freak.” There’s a line that legitimately says, “I love my shoes. I wanna FUCK ‘EM.”

The punch-line of this is that the beat is Eurotrash nightclub AWESOME.

Whyyyyyyyyyyy. I can never listen to this in public. I might be forced to pop a shit-ton of E one day and just dance myself to death over this dilemma.

XOXO

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Music Hilarious Drugs Shoe Porn Awkward

July 8, 2011


My boyfriend clocked me in the face with a bag of trash today, after missing the dumpster I was holding open for him, but finding my face. Oh, this is love.

XOXO

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July 16, 2011


I really hate writing uncomfortably formal business/money related emails to my exes for things that happened months ago. 

Long story short, it goes like this: You stiff me my cash, I WILL sell your shit that I still have to make up for it. Call me a bitch if you like, but boom. DONE.

XOXO

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August 4, 2011


The Best Morning After Story. Ever.

There’s “Dear god, my make-up has smeared all over my face,” awkward, and then there’s awkward awkward. 

This story is about the latter.

Once upon a time, having just started my relationship with the ex, before I went to Italy, I discovered just how sound a sleeper he was. Having an alacrity to wake up before he did, I usually ended up trapped between him and his bedroom’s wall with only the books within arm’s reach to keep me company before he woke up and let me free from the bed. One such morning, I was staring at the posters adorning his walls when I heard a girl’s voice in the living room. I knew it wasn’t one of his roommate’s girlfriend, because I knew her well enough to be able to discern her speech patterns, even through the closed door, and when I heard his other roommate start talking to Mystery Woman, I assumed that maybe he had brought someone home. So I was really confused when I heard footsteps across the hardwood and the sound of her getting closer to the bedroom door. 

I elbowed the ex. Nothing. Elbowed him harder. Nada. Hissed his name at him. Comatose. Elbowed him sharply in his prone ribs (he was very ribby) AND hissed his name. With something between a snort and a “whaaaaa?” he sat up. “I think someone’s here to see you,” I told him, casting an eye to the wayward pair of earrings on his windowsill that certainly weren’t mine, as I had somehow made it thus far in life without holes in my lobes. He grabbed the earrings, rolled out of bed, put the first clothes on that reached his fingertips, and slid out the door. I heard conversation begin again, and slid further under the covers, getting comfortable and preparing for some shut eye sans bed hog, when all of a sudden, the door opened again, and I heard the ex say a word of warning. 

It sounded a lot like “Uhhhhhhhhhhggggmmmm…”

Now, the ex was the one who introduced me to the many splendid pleasures of passing out post-orgasm and sleeping naked, and he is only one of three men I have ever adored enough to put up with their sweaty leg hair on my naked ass at night. So needless to say, I was naked. And a girl I had never met was standing in the doorway, stopped in her tracks. From somewhere behind her, I heard the ex say, “__________, Carissa. Carissa, __________.” (He always did have such great manners. That’s one thing they train them well down South.) And then she opened her mouth, and said the words that I will never forget until my dying day:

"Wow, _______. P.I.M.P. That’s awkward.”

What did I do? Me, naked, half under and half exposed from the down comforter, the brand-spanking-new girlfriend? 

…I pretended to be asleep. Obviously. I played dead for another half hour, then threw my clothes on and waved a hasty “hi” to her as I dashed out of the kitchen door.

About a year later, towards the end of allllllllll of my dealings with the ex (…no, wait, that’s a lie, because I definitely slept with him that night, too, damn,) I happened to be at a party and was finally, formally introduced to the girl who had previously only ever seen me naked. This time went better. Mainly, I was wearing clothes. After about five minutes of playing the “Are You Going To Bring This Up First, Or Do You Want Me To?” game, finally, I bit the bullet and looked at her. “Soooooo…do you remember walking in on me in _______’s bed?”

She gave a relieved laugh and grinned guiltily. “Yeahhhhhh, I do. I didn’t want to say anything in case you really had been asleep, because that would have been even more awkward, but, yeah. Just so you know,” she finished, “I um, I wasn’t there to get my earrings because I’d been like, sleeping with him, too. I’d lost them at the apartment the last time I was at a party there. I um, thought you might want to know. There was no naked involved for us. But I have to say…when people ask how we met, we kind of have the most kick-ass story ever.”

True.

Awkward, but true.

XOXO

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August 19, 2011


I was caught red-and-pink-handed today in Victoria’s Secret. He took a left for the loos, and I said I’d wait on a bench, but the bench just so happened to be riiiiiiight in front of Vickie’s, and it was like the gravitational force of all that underwear and lace and silk pulled me right in.

…I had to be pushed out.

How embarrassing. There needs to be a rehab program for this.

XOXO

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October 9, 2011


Thank God Daddy Was A Marine.

So, while I’m house-sitting, I’ve taken up residence in the large, ground-floor, window-filled family room, and am existing on the futon in the corner. I was lounging about, watching Netflix, minding my own business, pants-less, when I saw a man’s head bobbing up the driveway, about 15 feet away, through the big bay window. I, of course, am half-naked right next to the windows he’ll be walking by to get to the front door in about .23 seconds. What do I do? Roll off the side of the futon, army-crawl across the floor to my jeans, and wiggle into them, still lying on the floor, before hopping up and running to answer the door. 

I’m a real big fan of the awkward army-crawl.

XOXO

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November 3, 2011


I’m actually pretty stupendously awkward-looking in real life. I just caught my own reflection while gnawing off the end of a Fruit Leather and, needless to say, I’ll be refraining from doing that in public or around reflective surfaces from now on.

XOXO

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November 17, 2011


Co-Habitation Issues: What Good People Do.

So, I was searching for my cousin on LinkedIn today when I realized I had a mess of connection requests from people I didn’t know, which I went through and started deleting, until I got down to a name I recognized and was all, “Aww, my ex’s uncle wants to join my network; how sweet…” and then started to really think about it, and, with a dawning sort of horrifying feeling, when I looked up to the top right-hand corner by the log-out button…saw my ex’s name. Which would explain it ALL, right up to the people from Switzerland wanting to connect to me, when the longest I’VE ever been in the country was for a 48-hour layover on my way back from Italy; not nearly enough time to network and make friends. 

Of course I immediately feel like an idiot for messing up someone else’s inbox, and start panicking about permanently deleting HIS messages— but then again, he has to be the WORST offender for not logging out of sites when we were living together and sharing my computer (still logged into his LinkedIn, still logged into his Netflix, still logged into his Uncrate, still have his summer class files saved on my hard drive), so, at the same time— couldn’t do much about it other than call and leave him a message fessing up and telling him that I fucked up and deleted a few of his requests— awkward, but that’s what good people do.

So. #CohabitationProblems. Having to check WHO is logged in to every site on your own computer.

XOXO

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December 11, 2011


Pillow Talk

  • He Said: "I think we should do a do-over first date sometime this week."
  • I Said, while rolling over to look at him: "Yeah, because the end of that date isn't totally clear. We finish drinks and then we go home together. What a surprise."
  • Sarcasm in the dark. Yet another service I offer.
  • XOXO

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